Crossing the Line

5 September 2017

You could say it began when I accidentally walked in on you… found you masturbating… saw you with MY pantyhose… heard you moan “Mommy”… No. No, it began way before that. It started when your father walked out on us when I was pregnant with you.

I sacrificed my own personal life to focus entirely on you and your every need. And you and I grew so close…

I’ve noticed you looking at me – in that certain way – when you think I’m not aware. And I know you’ve masturbated… thinking about ME. I… I’ve done it to you – to you, about you. I couldn’t help it.

I can’t help what happens in my dreams, the seductive thoughts I wake up with, how my body naturally reacts. I HAVE to deal with it.

I guess you could say things have reached a breaking point – the end of the line. You’re off to college soon, and I guess it’s up to me to make the decision, to address what we both want but are so scared of. It’s up to Mommy to cross the line…

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September 5, 2017 at 6:32 am

Darren says:

Psychologists and poets have talked about the resentment of getting born. What was unconscious warmth and peace becomes instant exposure to, as Hamlet said, “the thousand shocks that the flesh is heir to.” Hamlet is apt here, as this is another dark Oedipal exploration from Tara Tainton.

Tara catches her “son” masturbating with a pair of her pantyhose, and this sets off a swift collapse into lust and, finally, madness. What had been bubbling perhaps safely under the surface is suddenly at a raging boil. She uncontrollably masturbates herself, thinking of him. A day or two later, she seduces him.

It’s interesting that she makes herself the aggressor. Yes, the boy might be jacking off to thoughts of his mom, but a shrink would probably pat him on the head and say, “You’ll grow out of it, son,” and off he’d go to college. There, he’d find gorgeous red-heads, tan athletic blondes, bug-cute little scholars in glasses, young women of all shapes, colors, temperaments, tastes, and levels of experience … so many lands to conquer! (But enough about my life in the late 80s/early 90s, hah!) But Tara ends all that in 15 minutes. He will now be in her exquisite grip.

It’s the backstory that intrigues, as much by its ellipses as by what is revealed. We learn that the father walked out on Tara when she was pregnant. That trauma forged a hyper-close bond between mother and son, though Tara lets that implication speak more for itself rather than offer lengthy exposition — the urgency of lust doesn’t permit leisurely biography. Perhaps over the course of years she tried to date, have boyfriends. It’s hard for single mothers, though, even for one as beautiful as Tara. And now, no longer so young, it’s even harder, even if Sonny Jim is out of the house. A variety of pot-bellied store managers and such, bearing drooping dicks and ear-hair, await her on dating sites … and younger guys will be easily distracted by potential mates their own age.

TL;DR? This story is frighteningly plausible. That plausibility is what turns us on, makes us nervous at the core, and makes us admire Tara Tainton’s bravery in lifting the rocks under all our brains, exploring what’s under them as if she’s an erotic archaeologist. She gets right to the psychological sore spot: “the site where you were conceived — Mommy’s cunt.” The warm oblivion from which we emerged, and, in this dark fantasy, to which one young man returns.

Recommended for mature audiences.

September 22, 2017 at 6:22 am

YoyoMaImCumming says:

Torn between two reviews.
-Dirty talk in this one is hot, Tara and the viewer verbally addressing the fact her womb is where the viewer began his life, and now he is going to go back in, where he belongs. Pretty, pretty, pretty good.

Not a fan of the whole “too shy to take charge” attitude of the viewer, but that’s personal chioce. No big deal, hot to see her ripping off clothes and guiding things for a bit.

Then…she uses the word cunt. In key moments, cunt instead of pussy. Yes…cunt.

The word a meth head redneck calls his unshowered wife, the word a drunk British male calls anything, the word even someone who fucking cusses a fucking lot like me refuses to use unless I’m addressing Nazis or Republicans, which have become the same thing I think. Pretty odd, total boner killer.

Love to see more videos explore the “back where you came from” verbal sections while keeping the word cunt out of it. You’re not a cunt, Tara, and neither is that special pussy the viewer came from.

“I just wanted to thank you for all that you do, you are amazing!!”

Crossing the Line

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“I just wanted to thank you for all that you do, you are amazing!!”

Crossing the Line

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Buy the full experience now

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