Page 02
Several days later, notified that the DNA results would be ready in the morning, Mom and I got on the road early, I driving, she catching up on e-mails. At the university we bounced from meeting to meeting, from computer screen to computer screen. While much of what was said was for me an incomprehensible lingo, the discussions touched on a variety of subjects: the appearance of our two adult subjects, relatively tall, blue-eyes, dark skin; their diet, lactose intolerant but able to extract large amounts of vitamin D from their food; their ancestry, a surprisingly large amount of an Asian nomadic people; and superior teeth, a healthy oral microbiome.
And the million dollar question? Yes, the woman and man were mother and son; the new born their child.
Which is why, at dinner in the university's executive dining room with Ron Johnson, the school's public information officer, he was looking at me with eyes that said, "Who's this?'
Noticing it, Mom's tone left no doubt who I was and that I was staying. "Ron, I'd like you to meet Bradley, my son. He's part of the dig. We drove in together."
With a glance at me that said he still didn't like my being there he said, "We're issuing a press release tomorrow afternoon describing your remarkable work and findings. The original Scots, the mother and father of our people. We hope to generate enough interest for the local media to get interested, maybe you can do an interview or two. We suspect they'll be interested in you Dr. Cyriack, you're photogenic and well spoken."
In a fake flirtatious tone she said, "Are you saying I'm pretty? That's sweet."
"Wouldn't know ma'am. I'm not paid to know if people are pretty, I'm paid to know if they're photogenic.
"We are not, I repeat we are not going to announce that government funded research just established the earliest known Scottish couple, after committing incest, had a baby, or two, or three, or whatever. No disrespect intended Dr. Cyriack, but a year from now when you publish in the Journal of Archaeology - and I am sure it will be excellent - hopefully no one makes the connection. If they do I'm sure my successor will have a perfectly palatable explanation."
It was clear from the look on his face that Ron Johnson expected Mom to push back, but instead she said, "The science in your announcement isn't quite right, but it never is. As to incest? I could argue, convincingly, that its simply a cultural prejudice, that the choice made by the original Scots, as you call them, was a personal private one, that they were in love, but I won't. I understand the university's position. You'll have my support."
Looking pleased by Mom's response, he bade us a good night.
We got back to the house around 9:15 P.M. Mom looked tired, and who could blame her. She'd been up working since 6:00 in the morning.
"Honey, do you mind if I take the first shower, I'm pooped."
"Not at all. Mom, you're amazing. I'm exhausted and all I did was watch the meetings you've been participating in all day."
Kissing my cheek Mom said, "You underrate yourself, and thank you for your moral support. It means more to me than you give yourself credit for."
I heard her get out of the shower - she'd taken a long one - then distracted myself with my phone until I felt her kiss the top of my head. I turned to watch as she came around the couch wearing a long tee-shirt. It clung to her long lean body in several damp spots she'd missed with the towel. I don't think she was wearing anything underneath.
She saw me starring at her. "I borrowed one of your tee-shirts, I hope you don't mind."
Looking into her large hazel eyes, shaped like almonds, I said, "No, not at all. Y'know, that public relations guy was wrong, you are pretty, very pretty."
"You're sweet. Now go take your shower - I think I left some hot water - then come keep your mother company."
When I returned, wearing gym shorts, she was lying on the couch. I thought she'd fallen asleep, but at the sound of my footsteps, not bothering to open her eyes, she said, "Sit with me."
I sat on the end of the couch, placed her feet in my lap, started rubbing them, working the hard calluses with my thumb.
Eyes still closed she murmured more than said, "That feels nice."
Her breathing soon flattened out. I thought about letting her to sleep on the couch - she looked comfortable - but decided she'd sleep better in the bed. Carefully moving her feet off my lap, I scooped up her five foot ten inch frame in both arms. Her face turned towards me, her eyes drifted open, and in a sleepy voice she said, "What's going on?"
"You fell asleep; I'm taking you to bed."
"Thank you."
I lay her down and rolling onto her side so her back was to me she said, "Son, if you don't mind, would you lay with me awhile."
"Sure, what for?"
"Don't know, I feel like being held tonight."
I lay down, spooned her. She intertwined her fingers in mine, held my arm to her body, kissed my hand. "This is nice, thank you son. I love you."
Kissing the back of her heard I said, "My pleasure."
And with my arm pressed to her breast, my hips to her backside, I had thoughts I shouldn't. I slid my hips back a couple of inches and spent the night with her.
It was mid-afternoon. I was driving, Mom reviewing the DNA report. In a couple of hours the university would announce the discovery of the two reliquaries, playing up the female chieftain angle, giving the story a progressive feminist "First Scots Woke and Inclusive" angle.
Pecking on her computer Mom called up the terrain map of the dig site and surrounding countryside.
"Brad, let's take a hike. I have some ideas for potential sites for the village that I believe goes with our mound. We'll need to bring our gear; we may need to spend the night. We don't want to hike on unfamiliar ground in the dark."
"Won't everyone be worried if we don't show up?"
"No, I told them we might be two nights. They'll think we decided to say at the school waiting on the press announcement. It will be fun to get away for a few hours."
Thinking no one would believe Mom would give up work to attend a press conference, I said, "Sure, its been a couple of years since you and I went camping, it should be fun."
I backed the jeep behind a grove of trees. It should be invisible from the road, but still tucked a note under a windshield wiper explaining who we were and providing instructions on contacting the dig site.
The ground flat, the underbrush navigable, we made good times, but Mom was right, you wouldn't want to walk it in the dark. As we hiked Mom, eyes active and alert, absorbed details I didn't see, occasionally stopping to make notes and point out the evidence of the river that once ran through the area.
After two hours we came to an open spot and, taking advantage, sat, and drank from our canteens. While Mom studied her compass and map I wandered to what turned out to be an active spring at the edge of the glade.
"You were right Mom, there must be significant underground water source here."
"I usually am. It looks like another hour to the north end of the forest. If we want to get back to the truck we'll need to turn around now."
"Let's keep going. We'll camp here tonight. It's lovely."
I set up our small two person tent, laid a blanket on the ground. Mom got the burner going. After eating, the night closing in around us, I lay on the blanket, Mom lying perpendicular to me, her head resting on my chest. I played with her short blonde hair.
"The weather is perfect. We might not need the tent tonight."
I said, "You're right. You and I haven't been fun camping in years, it's always work camping."
"Yeah, you got to be a teenager, didn't want to hang. Mom wasn't as cool as she used to be."
"I apologize for that. My Mom never stopped being cool. Now, if you'll excuse me."
I wandered into the forest to pee, and returning to the clearing heard a splash of water. Mom was standing knee deep in the spring.
"Come on in, the temperature's fine and the bottom surface firm."
I took off my socks and hiking boots, followed her in. She was right. That was when, with a laugh, she splashed me.
I reached down to splash her back but she said, "Don't do that, no splashing your mother."
Then she splashed me again.
Advancing towards her I said, "These rules are not fair," and before she could object slipped a leg behind her and, holding her by her hips, lowered her over it and into the water.
She grabbed both of my legs behind the knees and jerked them forward, sending me sprawling onto my back.
My, "Hey Mom, be careful," was greeted by another face full of water sent in my direction.
Before I could retaliate she raised her hands in mock surrender and shouted, "Truce."
I could see her breasts through her wet shirt.
"Are you looking at my breasts?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"Don't apologize, I don't mind. I've always thought they were nice. One of the advantage of being small chested is that, even braless, they stay firm as you get older."
Standing up I said, "Old? You're a fricking dynamo. Okay you win, truce, your breasts distracted me, broke my momentum."
Taking hold of my extended hand she stood and said, "I'm old enough to welcome a hand getting up. I guess neither one of us brought a change of clothes. We'll have to hang these up and let them dry. Since you started this thing you go first."
"I started ..."
"Don't disagree with your mother. You first."
Seeing no point in arguing I walked to a near-by branch, removed my clothes, hung them up, turned back to Mom. She was stripping. She was beautiful; her active life leaving her a body whose every dimension was the same as it had been before I was born.
She tossed me her clothes and seeing my eyes on her laughed, adopted a muscle man pose, and said, "Your Mom looks pretty damn good, doesn't she? Still 34-26-36."
I stared at her, making no effort to hide the way I was drinking in her form, and said, "Yes, she does. I didn't know you knew your measurements."
"I'm vainer that you think."
"How about me, do I pass inspection?"
Resting her strong chin on a hand she said, "Turn around," and as I did said, "Very nice, you do. You must have good genes."
"The best."
I reached for her hand. We returned to the blanket, lay next to each other. I touched her foot with mine and said, "How do you think it happened?"
"How did what happen?"
"How did they become lovers, our mother and son."
"I don't know. What do you think?"
Rolling on my side to face her I lay my hand on her stomach and said, "I was pondering your sage advice, that it's best to live on the land your subjects lived on, it gives you insight into how they saw the world. Maybe something happened in their world that made them see incest in a new way, not as something that was forbidden, but as something that was possible. Maybe it happened like it happened just now. Maybe they went swimming, or skinny dipping, in the river that used to be here, or in the grandfather of this spring, and they took off their clothes and he kissed her."
I lowered my head, pressed my lips to my mother's.
"What did she do?"
"I think she was perplexed. He was her son, but he was more than that. He was her best friend, her support no matter what happened in the world, and so utterly handsome. And then he did it again."
I dragged my lips across hers.
Mom said, "And what did she do then?"
"Well, she thought the things she'd thought before, and then she asked herself a new question: Did she like it? Did she like it when he kissed her?"
"And did she?"
"I'm not sure, let's try it again." I kissed Mom, with more force, for a couple beats longer - I could feel my heart in my chest - and said, "What do you think, did she like it?"
Covering my hand with hers she said,"Yes, I'm certain she did."
Mom and I, alone in the forest, kissed. Not frenzied, but patient and sweet and deep. She was a good kisser, her lips moving on mine as if there was an extra part of her brain was devoted to that single function. After awhile she kissed my nose, my cheeks, my eyes, and I moved back and looked at her. There was a radiant smile on her face, the kind of smile that occupies your whole face, and she said, "This is nice."
"Yeah, it is. Are wee going to become lovers."
"Yes we are son."
I kissed her mouth, dropped my head to lick her breast with the flat of my tongue, blew a stream of cool air on it through pursed lips.
"Oooohhhhh."
"You have sensitive breasts."
"Always have."
Opening my mouth wide, moving it close to her breast, I exhaled, the warm air flowing over her wet nipple in a gentle warm wave.
"Uuunnnnhhhhh."
I kissed along the bottom of one breast, along the bottom of the other, brushing my lips on her warm flesh, then moved up the inside of her breasts, switching from one to the other, raised my head, kissed her mouth. Returning to her breasts I explored one of her nipples with the tip of my tongue, moving up, down and around it, tracking its shape, its contours while caressing her other breast with a single finger, using the lightest of touches. Goose bumps erupted on her flesh.
"Oh god that feels good."
Starting at the bottom, I licked up her breast with the flat of my tongue, pushing down hard as I rolled over her nipple.
"Unnhhhhh."
My lips cradling her nipple I sucked, rhythmically, harder, then harder. Her arousal spiking, Mom undulated her body, pushing her breast into my mouth
"Uuuunnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
Mom hadn't exaggerated, she had sensitive breasts, and deciding to push a little, to try something a little bit daring, I held a nipple between my teeth, sucked on it, licked it, then bit down with a bare minimum of pressure. Her reaction was immediate. "Oh god yeah, I love that."
Keeping pressure on her nipple - we'd explore these limits in the future - I rolled it back and forth between my teeth. Mom's head dropped back, her breathing deepened.
Emboldened, I moved my head down, kissed her bellybutton, and my eyes on hers captured her nipples with my thumbs and forefingers, rotated my wrists outward, tugging on her nipples. Eyes afire, she groaned and I moved my wrists in a full circle, pulling and twisting her nipples, then squeezed, forcing her nipples up and away from her breasts. I sucked and licked them.
"Oh god Brad so good, yes, but I'm ready. I need you inside me. Please be careful, go nice and slow, it's been awhile."
Sitting up on my knees between Mom's legs, my erect dick waggling in the air before me, I ran a finger on her labia, spreading her juice up and down. When I reached her clit I diddled; she squealed. Then asking, "Are you ready?" I moved my fingertip inside her with a rocking motion. Her pussy lips were swollen and hot and her vagina wet and I took my time, watching her face, making sure she was ready as I rocked my finger inside her bit by bit, sometimes stopping, giving the walls of her vagina the chance to stretch.
And when it was all the way inside I leaned forward and kissed her. Her tongue moved against my lips and, parting them, I welcomed it into my mouth, where it explored, slid and danced and curled on mine. I chased it back to her mouth where they played together.
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."
And the million dollar question? Yes, the woman and man were mother and son; the new born their child.
Which is why, at dinner in the university's executive dining room with Ron Johnson, the school's public information officer, he was looking at me with eyes that said, "Who's this?'
Noticing it, Mom's tone left no doubt who I was and that I was staying. "Ron, I'd like you to meet Bradley, my son. He's part of the dig. We drove in together."
With a glance at me that said he still didn't like my being there he said, "We're issuing a press release tomorrow afternoon describing your remarkable work and findings. The original Scots, the mother and father of our people. We hope to generate enough interest for the local media to get interested, maybe you can do an interview or two. We suspect they'll be interested in you Dr. Cyriack, you're photogenic and well spoken."
In a fake flirtatious tone she said, "Are you saying I'm pretty? That's sweet."
"Wouldn't know ma'am. I'm not paid to know if people are pretty, I'm paid to know if they're photogenic.
"We are not, I repeat we are not going to announce that government funded research just established the earliest known Scottish couple, after committing incest, had a baby, or two, or three, or whatever. No disrespect intended Dr. Cyriack, but a year from now when you publish in the Journal of Archaeology - and I am sure it will be excellent - hopefully no one makes the connection. If they do I'm sure my successor will have a perfectly palatable explanation."
It was clear from the look on his face that Ron Johnson expected Mom to push back, but instead she said, "The science in your announcement isn't quite right, but it never is. As to incest? I could argue, convincingly, that its simply a cultural prejudice, that the choice made by the original Scots, as you call them, was a personal private one, that they were in love, but I won't. I understand the university's position. You'll have my support."
Looking pleased by Mom's response, he bade us a good night.
We got back to the house around 9:15 P.M. Mom looked tired, and who could blame her. She'd been up working since 6:00 in the morning.
"Honey, do you mind if I take the first shower, I'm pooped."
"Not at all. Mom, you're amazing. I'm exhausted and all I did was watch the meetings you've been participating in all day."
Kissing my cheek Mom said, "You underrate yourself, and thank you for your moral support. It means more to me than you give yourself credit for."
I heard her get out of the shower - she'd taken a long one - then distracted myself with my phone until I felt her kiss the top of my head. I turned to watch as she came around the couch wearing a long tee-shirt. It clung to her long lean body in several damp spots she'd missed with the towel. I don't think she was wearing anything underneath.
She saw me starring at her. "I borrowed one of your tee-shirts, I hope you don't mind."
Looking into her large hazel eyes, shaped like almonds, I said, "No, not at all. Y'know, that public relations guy was wrong, you are pretty, very pretty."
"You're sweet. Now go take your shower - I think I left some hot water - then come keep your mother company."
When I returned, wearing gym shorts, she was lying on the couch. I thought she'd fallen asleep, but at the sound of my footsteps, not bothering to open her eyes, she said, "Sit with me."
I sat on the end of the couch, placed her feet in my lap, started rubbing them, working the hard calluses with my thumb.
Eyes still closed she murmured more than said, "That feels nice."
Her breathing soon flattened out. I thought about letting her to sleep on the couch - she looked comfortable - but decided she'd sleep better in the bed. Carefully moving her feet off my lap, I scooped up her five foot ten inch frame in both arms. Her face turned towards me, her eyes drifted open, and in a sleepy voice she said, "What's going on?"
"You fell asleep; I'm taking you to bed."
"Thank you."
I lay her down and rolling onto her side so her back was to me she said, "Son, if you don't mind, would you lay with me awhile."
"Sure, what for?"
"Don't know, I feel like being held tonight."
I lay down, spooned her. She intertwined her fingers in mine, held my arm to her body, kissed my hand. "This is nice, thank you son. I love you."
Kissing the back of her heard I said, "My pleasure."
And with my arm pressed to her breast, my hips to her backside, I had thoughts I shouldn't. I slid my hips back a couple of inches and spent the night with her.
It was mid-afternoon. I was driving, Mom reviewing the DNA report. In a couple of hours the university would announce the discovery of the two reliquaries, playing up the female chieftain angle, giving the story a progressive feminist "First Scots Woke and Inclusive" angle.
Pecking on her computer Mom called up the terrain map of the dig site and surrounding countryside.
"Brad, let's take a hike. I have some ideas for potential sites for the village that I believe goes with our mound. We'll need to bring our gear; we may need to spend the night. We don't want to hike on unfamiliar ground in the dark."
"Won't everyone be worried if we don't show up?"
"No, I told them we might be two nights. They'll think we decided to say at the school waiting on the press announcement. It will be fun to get away for a few hours."
Thinking no one would believe Mom would give up work to attend a press conference, I said, "Sure, its been a couple of years since you and I went camping, it should be fun."
I backed the jeep behind a grove of trees. It should be invisible from the road, but still tucked a note under a windshield wiper explaining who we were and providing instructions on contacting the dig site.
The ground flat, the underbrush navigable, we made good times, but Mom was right, you wouldn't want to walk it in the dark. As we hiked Mom, eyes active and alert, absorbed details I didn't see, occasionally stopping to make notes and point out the evidence of the river that once ran through the area.
After two hours we came to an open spot and, taking advantage, sat, and drank from our canteens. While Mom studied her compass and map I wandered to what turned out to be an active spring at the edge of the glade.
"You were right Mom, there must be significant underground water source here."
"I usually am. It looks like another hour to the north end of the forest. If we want to get back to the truck we'll need to turn around now."
"Let's keep going. We'll camp here tonight. It's lovely."
I set up our small two person tent, laid a blanket on the ground. Mom got the burner going. After eating, the night closing in around us, I lay on the blanket, Mom lying perpendicular to me, her head resting on my chest. I played with her short blonde hair.
"The weather is perfect. We might not need the tent tonight."
I said, "You're right. You and I haven't been fun camping in years, it's always work camping."
"Yeah, you got to be a teenager, didn't want to hang. Mom wasn't as cool as she used to be."
"I apologize for that. My Mom never stopped being cool. Now, if you'll excuse me."
I wandered into the forest to pee, and returning to the clearing heard a splash of water. Mom was standing knee deep in the spring.
"Come on in, the temperature's fine and the bottom surface firm."
I took off my socks and hiking boots, followed her in. She was right. That was when, with a laugh, she splashed me.
I reached down to splash her back but she said, "Don't do that, no splashing your mother."
Then she splashed me again.
Advancing towards her I said, "These rules are not fair," and before she could object slipped a leg behind her and, holding her by her hips, lowered her over it and into the water.
She grabbed both of my legs behind the knees and jerked them forward, sending me sprawling onto my back.
My, "Hey Mom, be careful," was greeted by another face full of water sent in my direction.
Before I could retaliate she raised her hands in mock surrender and shouted, "Truce."
I could see her breasts through her wet shirt.
"Are you looking at my breasts?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"Don't apologize, I don't mind. I've always thought they were nice. One of the advantage of being small chested is that, even braless, they stay firm as you get older."
Standing up I said, "Old? You're a fricking dynamo. Okay you win, truce, your breasts distracted me, broke my momentum."
Taking hold of my extended hand she stood and said, "I'm old enough to welcome a hand getting up. I guess neither one of us brought a change of clothes. We'll have to hang these up and let them dry. Since you started this thing you go first."
"I started ..."
"Don't disagree with your mother. You first."
Seeing no point in arguing I walked to a near-by branch, removed my clothes, hung them up, turned back to Mom. She was stripping. She was beautiful; her active life leaving her a body whose every dimension was the same as it had been before I was born.
She tossed me her clothes and seeing my eyes on her laughed, adopted a muscle man pose, and said, "Your Mom looks pretty damn good, doesn't she? Still 34-26-36."
I stared at her, making no effort to hide the way I was drinking in her form, and said, "Yes, she does. I didn't know you knew your measurements."
"I'm vainer that you think."
"How about me, do I pass inspection?"
Resting her strong chin on a hand she said, "Turn around," and as I did said, "Very nice, you do. You must have good genes."
"The best."
I reached for her hand. We returned to the blanket, lay next to each other. I touched her foot with mine and said, "How do you think it happened?"
"How did what happen?"
"How did they become lovers, our mother and son."
"I don't know. What do you think?"
Rolling on my side to face her I lay my hand on her stomach and said, "I was pondering your sage advice, that it's best to live on the land your subjects lived on, it gives you insight into how they saw the world. Maybe something happened in their world that made them see incest in a new way, not as something that was forbidden, but as something that was possible. Maybe it happened like it happened just now. Maybe they went swimming, or skinny dipping, in the river that used to be here, or in the grandfather of this spring, and they took off their clothes and he kissed her."
I lowered my head, pressed my lips to my mother's.
"What did she do?"
"I think she was perplexed. He was her son, but he was more than that. He was her best friend, her support no matter what happened in the world, and so utterly handsome. And then he did it again."
I dragged my lips across hers.
Mom said, "And what did she do then?"
"Well, she thought the things she'd thought before, and then she asked herself a new question: Did she like it? Did she like it when he kissed her?"
"And did she?"
"I'm not sure, let's try it again." I kissed Mom, with more force, for a couple beats longer - I could feel my heart in my chest - and said, "What do you think, did she like it?"
Covering my hand with hers she said,"Yes, I'm certain she did."
Mom and I, alone in the forest, kissed. Not frenzied, but patient and sweet and deep. She was a good kisser, her lips moving on mine as if there was an extra part of her brain was devoted to that single function. After awhile she kissed my nose, my cheeks, my eyes, and I moved back and looked at her. There was a radiant smile on her face, the kind of smile that occupies your whole face, and she said, "This is nice."
"Yeah, it is. Are wee going to become lovers."
"Yes we are son."
I kissed her mouth, dropped my head to lick her breast with the flat of my tongue, blew a stream of cool air on it through pursed lips.
"Oooohhhhh."
"You have sensitive breasts."
"Always have."
Opening my mouth wide, moving it close to her breast, I exhaled, the warm air flowing over her wet nipple in a gentle warm wave.
"Uuunnnnhhhhh."
I kissed along the bottom of one breast, along the bottom of the other, brushing my lips on her warm flesh, then moved up the inside of her breasts, switching from one to the other, raised my head, kissed her mouth. Returning to her breasts I explored one of her nipples with the tip of my tongue, moving up, down and around it, tracking its shape, its contours while caressing her other breast with a single finger, using the lightest of touches. Goose bumps erupted on her flesh.
"Oh god that feels good."
Starting at the bottom, I licked up her breast with the flat of my tongue, pushing down hard as I rolled over her nipple.
"Unnhhhhh."
My lips cradling her nipple I sucked, rhythmically, harder, then harder. Her arousal spiking, Mom undulated her body, pushing her breast into my mouth
"Uuuunnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
Mom hadn't exaggerated, she had sensitive breasts, and deciding to push a little, to try something a little bit daring, I held a nipple between my teeth, sucked on it, licked it, then bit down with a bare minimum of pressure. Her reaction was immediate. "Oh god yeah, I love that."
Keeping pressure on her nipple - we'd explore these limits in the future - I rolled it back and forth between my teeth. Mom's head dropped back, her breathing deepened.
Emboldened, I moved my head down, kissed her bellybutton, and my eyes on hers captured her nipples with my thumbs and forefingers, rotated my wrists outward, tugging on her nipples. Eyes afire, she groaned and I moved my wrists in a full circle, pulling and twisting her nipples, then squeezed, forcing her nipples up and away from her breasts. I sucked and licked them.
"Oh god Brad so good, yes, but I'm ready. I need you inside me. Please be careful, go nice and slow, it's been awhile."
Sitting up on my knees between Mom's legs, my erect dick waggling in the air before me, I ran a finger on her labia, spreading her juice up and down. When I reached her clit I diddled; she squealed. Then asking, "Are you ready?" I moved my fingertip inside her with a rocking motion. Her pussy lips were swollen and hot and her vagina wet and I took my time, watching her face, making sure she was ready as I rocked my finger inside her bit by bit, sometimes stopping, giving the walls of her vagina the chance to stretch.
And when it was all the way inside I leaned forward and kissed her. Her tongue moved against my lips and, parting them, I welcomed it into my mouth, where it explored, slid and danced and curled on mine. I chased it back to her mouth where they played together.
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."
- Previous page: Page 01
