SUMMER OF LOVE free porn video

Son-in-law's Summer of Love and SexbySusanJillParker©
This is a Summer Lovin' contest story. Please vote.

Wife abandons husband and baby for a wild life on the French Riviera.

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Glad for the experience, it had been a long, hot, emotionally charged and sexually frustrating summer spent with my mother-in-law. Surviving the heat, a record number of 90 plus degree consecutive days, no longer feeling sorry for myself, I was looking forward to the cooler temperatures of fall to clear my head for a fresh start. It all started a year ago last summer when my wife, Samantha, left me and our baby, Michael, for not only another man but also for another lifestyle.

I experienced some of the best times in my life with my wife, the love of my life, and I had some of the worst times after she left. Down, depressed, deceived, used, and abused, it wasn't until after she left me that I could clearly see her for the horrible person that she was. Sad and lonely, and forsaking my friends and family to heal myself alone, I hid myself in my house with my mother-in-law, Christine, and my son, Michael, as my only companions. I was devastated by her leaving me and it's taken me a more than a year to get my life back.

After my wife invited her mother to live with us in Massachusetts to help care for our infant son, Christine sold her house in California and moved east. Surprisingly and thankfully, perhaps out of guilt, loyalty, devotion, or the love of her grandson, she stayed with me, even after her daughter left. Maybe like me, she figured her daughter would return one day. Maybe like me, she was just as lonely as I was, that is, until I discovered that she was just as sexually attracted to me as I was to her.

Slow to simmer to a summertime boil, my sexual relationship with Christine started a year after Samantha left when I saw her unabashedly standing in my bedroom doorway in her sexy nightgown. A sight to behold, but a perilous bridge to cross, if I made love to Samantha's mother, that one act would seal my fate by putting a final exclamation point to end my marriage with her daughter forever. Still harboring hopes of her returning, if Samantha returned, she'd never forgive me for having had sex with her mother. Yet gone for more than a year, my wife already ended our marriage when she left me and abandoned our c***d. Nonetheless, with mother more woman than daughter could ever be, if I began a love relationship with Christine, she'd never leave me in the way her daughter had and she'd never forsake her grandson in the way that Samantha had abandoned our son.

"May I sleep with you?"

Preoccupied in thought over imagining Christine naked while fingering my cock through my pajama bottom, I was about to masturbate over her again, my regular nightly routine. As if I had imagined her voice floating through my u*********s mind, she surprised me. When I heard her voice, I was sitting on my bed contemplating my day spent with the woman of my desire while wishing I wasn't sleeping alone. When I looked up at my mother-in-law, the woman I now love, she stood in my bedroom doorway biting her lip, playing with her nightgown ties, and looking at me with sexuality, trepidation, and vulnerability. As stunned as I was sexually excited, I couldn't believe she was standing there so exposed in her most revealing dressing gown. I couldn't believe she asked if she could sleep with me.

Wearing makeup with her hair beautifully done and smelling of sweet perfume, I looked at her not believing she was really standing there. Was I dreaming or did she really ask if she could sleep with me? After sexually fantasizing about her for so long, was it wishful thinking that played tricks with my mind? A huge leap of faith in our quickly changing relationship, obviously with both of us lonely and sexually attracted to one another, already knowing the answer to her question, did she really think I'd say no? Just as I never said no to her daughter, I'd never say no to her mother.

With her standing in the hall, the nightlight behind her illuminated as if she was an angelic illusion. I couldn't help but notice the dark impressions her areolas, nipples, and blonde patch of pubic hair made through her sheer nightgown. Staring at her as if she was my angel sent to me in my time of need, I saw her glance down at the bulge in my pajama bottom before she looked up at me to make solid eye contact. I wondered how long she had been standing in the doorway. I wondered had she seen me fingering my cock, if she would have liked what she saw. Had she not said a word for a few more seconds with me not knowing she was standing there watching me, she would have caught me pulling out my prick and stroking myself over the naked thoughts of her. With her standing there watching me, I couldn't help but wonder, had she seen me masturbating, if that would have killed or encouraged my chances of sleeping with her.

A man who needed to be hit over the head with a baseball bat to understand when a woman was hitting on me, did she look down at my cock so that I'd understand that she didn't want to sleep with me but wanted to have sex with me? With her wearing her low cut and nearly transparent, blue, pastel nightgown, looking so much like a blonde, busty angel dressed in a soft cloud of silk and satin, she showed me more of her beautiful body than I've ever seen before. She showed me more of herself than I was showing her of myself. Being the horny and perverted son-in-law that I am, after seeing her standing there so exposed, I was eager to return the sexual favor and expose myself to her.

Just because she was nearly naked with her big breasts nearly hanging out of her nightgown, not wanting to ruin things, I didn't dare be so vulgar as to flash her. Not wanting to scare her off and extinguish what we had before taking the time to heat up our sexual fire, being that she was already eager to give herself to me, I thought better of whipping out my cock. Suddenly having second thoughts, I felt guilty for what I was about to do. Even though she just asked if she could sleep with me, even though she's wearing her sexiest nightgown that exposed most of her naked body to me, she's still my wife's mother. If the shoe was on the other foot, I wouldn't want my brother-in-law sleeping with my mother. Only, I didn't have a brother-in-law and my mother looked nothing like Christine.

As if the past year fast forwarded in my mind, thinking back of all our times together, it was then that I thought of all the subtle signs she had given me and all faint hints that should have told me that she wanted me. How could I be so dumb not to notice her wanting me? How could I not know that she was as interested in bedding me as I was interested in having sex with her? Having never seen so much of her body, even on the beach in her barely there bikini, as if she was my new bride instead of my old mother-in-law, not that she was old, just older than me, she was wearing something that I imagined she'd wear on her Honeymoon. Being that my 30th birthday had just passed and with her nightgown looking more like thin, tissue paper than expensive sleepwear, I thought of her as my belated, gift wrapped, birthday present sent to my room psychically by my wishful thinking.

"Yes," I said staring at her with lust in my eyes and love in my heart.

A sexual fantasy come true with me saying yes, all that was needed to seal our romantic union, one word and one syllable meant so much more than giving her my permission. It meant the start of something life changing. It meant that I was about to sleep with Samantha's mother, my mother-in-law. It meant that I wouldn't feel lonely and horny again, so long as Christine stayed with me and so long as we continued this sexual relationship.

When she walked in my bedroom, not knowing what else to do, I stood as if standing for a lady entering the room. Ready to embrace this new sexual relationship, I stood poised to hold her, touch her, feel her, caress her, kiss her, and make love to her. Only, as soon as I stood, as if seeing me standing with her from afar, I balked. Suddenly feeling so very perverted and having second thoughts again, I felt that I was cheating on Samantha, even though she had been cheating on me. My brain was saying no but my cock was saying yes.

Now embarrassed as much as I was excited by seeing her so exposed and vulnerable, the bulge of my semi-erect penis was obvious in my pajama bottom and I was embarrassed by my own sexual expectations and anticipations. With my emotions flip flopping, being at a disadvantage physically by involuntarily showing her how I felt, I was embarrassed by my emerging erection but excited at the same time that she saw the lust that I had for her. This wasn't just any woman that I was about to bed, this was my mother-in-law. A sexual taboo, the forbidden sexual family connection resonated in my mind. Of all people, how could I be so lonely, so needy, so horny, so desperate, so despicable, and so perverted to want to have sex with my mother-in-law? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with her to solicit me for sex, her own son-in-law?

Had her daughter still been with me, I never would have considered having sex with her mother. Then, again, had she not been my wife's mother, because of how gorgeous she looks, the sexy body she has, and the sexual attraction that I have for her, I would have tried to have sex with her months ago. Even after developing feelings for Christine, so afraid to approach her and make my feelings known, I became frustratingly content to lust over her from afar. Instead of trying to bed her, instead of embarrassing myself by making a pass at her, my nightly routine was to masturbate while thinking of having sex with her. Wanting to have an intimate relationship with her for months and still too nervous to make the first move, my sexual frustration may have endlessly continued and culminated with neither of us getting what we wanted had Christine not asked to sleep with me.

Taking her by the hand, I led her to my bed. As if we were about to have our first session of couple's therapy and needed to discuss what we were about to do, we sat in silence with our hands in our laps. Surely, preferring not to talk but to kiss, I didn't need to talk about what I wanted to do with her. Just as I had already done with her daughter, the first time that I was with her four years ago, I knew what I wanted to do with her mother.

Attracted to Christine from the first day I met her, especially now in the way I missed her daughter, and especially now with her in her nightgown and asking my permission to sleep with me, I wanted to have sex with her. Lusting over her for years, I wanted to touch and feel her everywhere. Feeling so lonely and so horny, and with her looking so very much like Samantha, sometimes even mistaking mother for daughter, especially in the dark and especially when so wishing that she was Samantha reincarnated while pretending that she was, I wanted to make love to her. Yet, not wanting to make the same mistake twice and wanting to go through whatever this would become with my eyes wide open, I was hesitant to begin something that I may not be able to finish or something that could easily backfire and become another emotional disaster. After ruing the day I bedded daughter, I didn't want to rue the day I bedded mother too.

Even though the abrupt end to my marriage wasn't my fault, I blamed myself that it was. Being that we were already best friends and fun companions, I didn't want to ruin my relationship with my mother-in-law with sex. Instead of being so eager to be with her physically, something new for me to resist the urge, I took a step back to take my time while waiting to join her sexually. Now that we were already close friends and were already there emotionally, our next step was to explore one another's bodies sexually. We both knew that we wanted to have sex and I was just as nervous as she was to take that next step. Yet she took that first step already by asking me if she could sleep with me.

Wanting to reassure her, along with myself, with her sitting beside me, I looked at her and smiled before taking her hand in mine again. Afraid to say anything for fear that I'd say something dumb enough for her to realize the perverted son-in-law I am and make her flee my room, I sat there lovingly holding her hand while playing with her fingers. What was there to say? There were no words for how I felt about wanting to sleep with my wife's mother. Either we had sex or we didn't.

Needing to feel that she was real and that I wasn't dreaming, I put my arm around her and ran my hand along her shoulder before continuing down her arm. The sexy sight of her was so arousing. Her perfume made me dizzy with sexual excitement and I just wanted to kiss her. Only, knowing that my kiss would lead to more, I debated with myself before taking a step that could either ruin my life more or make me the happiest man on earth. Should I or shouldn't I have sex with my mother-in-law? This was a big step.

Even though I had put sunscreen lotion on her body many times, I had never touched my mother-in-law in the way that I was touching her and about to touch her now, sexually, erotically, romantically, and seductively. Even though this was Samantha's mother sitting beside me in her nightgown and even though she already gave me the green light by asking if she could sleep with me, I felt as if I was a teenager at the cinema with my date while trying to work up the courage to make it to first base by feeling her breast. With the nightlight that lit my room enough for me to see, I could discern part of her breast down her nightgown. It was obvious that she had natural breasts that were just as wonderfully amazing as her daughter's silicon breasts.

"I'm so nervous, Stephen," she said in the way that I imagined she'd say, if I was sitting with her at a doctor's office to give her moral support while waiting for the results of a medical test. "You're not just any man," she said looking at me with apprehension. "You're my daughter's husband, my son-in-law. Only, so attracted to you, I'm so very lonely."

If we were to have a love affair that lasted longer than the three years that I had with her daughter, I wondered what she'd look like in twenty years. Quickly, I did the math in my head. In twenty years, she'll be sixty-eight and I'll be fifty. Not so bad, so long as she stayed active, was healthy, and stayed out of the sun. With her collecting Social Security and me working at a job, financially this could work. Gees, what the Hell am I thinking? I'm about to have sex with my mother-in-law.

"I'm nervous too," I said looking deeply in her blue eyes and giving her a smile of encouragement while figuring that lonely was a woman's code word for horny. "You're so beautiful, Christine," I said trying to relax her, calm myself, and excite her all at the same time. "Just as you're lonely, I am too," while almost blurting out the word horny. "From the first day I met you, I've always been attracted to you." With you looking so much like your daughter, especially at your age, I'm a lucky man, I thought but didn't say my backhanded compliment.

Even though I so wanted to kiss her, I was afraid. Her lips were forbidden fruit. The Devils playground, her lips were off limits. Her lips were Eve's apple given to Adam and her pussy was Dante's Inferno on my certain, future admittance to Hell.

Even though I was working up my nerve to kiss her and seduce her, I didn't dare. Had she been any other woman showing up in my room wearing what she was wearing, I would have kissed and felt her beautiful body by now. Had she been anyone else, I would have stripped her naked and already been busy making love to her. Only, she wasn't just any woman. Even though I wanted her and had fantasized about having sex with her, with her here now calling my bluff, it was difficult for me to wrap my brain around having sex with her.

So very hesitant, even though she was the one who made the first move by coming to my room in her revealing nightgown and asking to sleep with me, I didn't understand why I was so afraid to kiss her. As if her lips were suddenly electrified barbed wire, for fear of a fatal shock, I was afraid to touch her lips with mine. Should our romantic connection be a mistake and prematurely end, having already established a bond of trust and a strong connection, hopefully those warm feelings would surely transcend any future physical and emotional relationship problems we'd have and not ruin our friendship.

With both of us going into this with eyes wide open, we weren't c***dren. With both of us needing some sexual comfort, we weren't infatuated teenagers driven wild by puppy love; we were mature adults. Yet, analyzing our sudden sexual connection, did we feel the need to have sex because Samantha rejected us by leaving? Feeling her consternation along with my own, I needed to ensure Christine, as well as myself, that what we already had and what we were about to do couldn't be ruined by being needy, feeling guilty, and having second thoughts. What we already had was a strong foundation for love. What we already had was the most fun that I've ever had with a woman without removing her clothes. Being that I was still married to her daughter, what we were about to do was wrong on more than one level, nonetheless, what we were about to do was so right on many other levels.

"Kiss me," she said.

With too much temptation to say no, but slow to react, it took her to appear at my bedroom door nearly naked for me to understand that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. It took her to ask my permission to sleep with me for me to invite her in my bedroom. It took her to tell me to kiss her for me to kiss her. What's wrong with me? If I don't kiss her now, she'll think that I don't want her. If I don't kiss her now, she'll think that I'm rejecting her for the hope her bitch and whore of a daughter will return. After developing deep feelings for my mother-in-law, I no longer wanted my wife. I wanted mother over daughter.

Unable to say no and unable to tell her to return to her room, I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulled her to me, and kissed her as if we were standing in front of Niagara Falls. When she allowed me to part her lips with my tongue and she responded with hers, it took me a moment to wrap my head around and get beyond the fact that I was French kissing my mother-in-law. Something I've imagined doing in my sexual fantasies and masturbation sessions and something that I wanted to do for so long, was finally happening now. Only this was different. This was real and not a sexual fantasy. With her lips so full and her kisses so passionate, I loved kissing Christine more than I ever enjoyed kissing her daughter. A thousand miles away, with her daughter always so preoccupied with her past, current, and future modeling assignments, and just going through the motions, she was never there with me in our relationship.

A year ago, missing her daughter as if she had suddenly died, I never would have French kissed her mother but now I was French kissing Christine, the woman I love. With my two-year-old son asleep for the night in the next room, we had hours to ourselves. Perhaps with both of us afraid to get more comfortable in bed, as if falling back in bed was taking a plunge deeper than we were ready and willing to take, we sat together on the edge of the bed kissing.

Even though I couldn't wait to touch her and feel her, more aroused kissing her than I imagined I'd be touching her, her kisses reminded me of kissing her daughter when we first started dating four years ago. Only now with my eyes wide open, kissing Christine was better than kissing Samantha. When I closed my eyes, I imagined Samantha was there with me. Then, when I opened my eyes to look in Christine's eyes, my excitement grew with the thoughts that Samantha was gone and I was making out with her mother.
Eager to feel her body, wanting to feel her breasts and finger her nipples before moving my hand along her shapely thighs, continuing up beneath her nightgown, and touching her between her legs, I needed to go slow. Wanting to enjoy every moment, I didn't want to rush things. We had plenty of time to take things slow. We not only had the whole night, we had days, weeks, and months together for us to get better sexually acquainted.

After having spent a wonderful year and an erotic summer doing things and going places with mother instead of daughter, Samantha was always too busy to do and go with me. Christine gave me memories that I'll cherish forever. Having become close friends before we became lovers, I was content just to kiss her while holding her without sexually touching her. She was so beautiful and kissing her was like nothing I could have imagined. Then shockingly and excitingly, taking things in her own hands, it happened.

While I was the one who masturbated every night with the thoughts of touching her, feeling her, and exploring her body with my hands, my mouth, and my cock, before I even had a chance to feel her firm, round ass, she was the one who touched me. While I kissed her and while I built up the courage to touch her, I felt her hand move down from my shoulder to feel my chest. Her hand felt so incredibly good that I didn't dare move for fear that she'd remove her hand. Then, before I could reciprocate her touch to cup her breast and finger her nipple, I felt her hand slowly slide down my stomach and come to rest in my lap. With her fingertips so erotically close to my cock, just mere inches away, the passion of my kisses grew with my desire for her to touch me where I needed her to touch me. Would she or wouldn't she touch my cock? I couldn't believe my mother-in-law was poised to touch my cock.

Now my focus was more on her touching me than on me touching her. Focusing more on her lips, her fingertips, and my cock instead of on her hot body, wishing she'd move her hand just a little closer to my engorged, throbbing prick and wishing she'd take my cock in her hand and stroke me, I was so hot and horny for her. Then, as if psychically reading my mind, she did what I hoped she'd do. Touching me where no mother-in-law should ever touch her son-in-law, she ever so lightly touched my cock through my pajamas with her fingertips.

As if gently taking my pulse, the feel of her fingertips lightly touching my cock was electric. As if plugged in a wall outlet, my cock came alive, pulsated, and hardened to her magical touch. Then, while I continued kissing her, as if my prick was hers, she moved her whole hand over my penis as if protecting me from harm and/or claiming me as hers. Leaving her hand atop my penis, as if she was getting ready to move her lips down to smoke it, I felt her fingers gently knead my penis before lifting it through my pajama as if she was delicately holding an expensive cigar.

"You have a nice body," she said lightly touching the head of my cock with her fingertips while looking in my eyes before looking down at the big bulge my prick made in my pajama.

As if she was deftly turning the combination to a safe, I felt her fingers fondle the head of my penis in the way that I couldn't wait to finger her nipples. Only I knew if I touched her, felt her, and caressed her, I'd be lost in my lust for her and there'd be no turning back. Already too aroused with i****tuous lust for her, I'd move too fast and ruin everything if I started prematurely feeling her. Besides, comfortable with her making all the right moves, I didn't want to interrupt whatever she was doing with my penis to make all the wrong ones.

Although I've been wanting to see her naked, feel her naked body, make love to her, and fuck her, disturbingly, frustratingly, and unbelievably, I wasn't ready for that just yet. Even after having French kissed her mother, I still wasn't over her daughter. Having pined over her daughter for more than a year, I needed to put Samantha behind me forever before I could move forward and truly enjoy having sex with her mother. Not knowing where she is and what she's doing, with Samantha still absent from my life, I didn't know how I'd react if she was ever to return. Needing to see her again, I needed to know for certain that I wanted mother over daughter. Once I had sex with mother, daughter would never want me back. Perhaps once I had sex with mother, I wouldn't want daughter even if she returned.

After her daughter left me and abandoned our baby, thinking back to how it all began last summer between Christine and I, my mother-in-law's question reverberated in my head every time I thought about how my illicit, extramarital love affair started. After all the times I masturbated while thinking of having sex with Samantha's mother, her question and my answer had been a long time coming. Still in love with her daughter, how could I begin a sexual relationship with her mother? Yet living without Samantha in my life and living with Christine in my life, just as I couldn't imagine my life without Samantha in it before, I couldn't imagine my life without Christine in it now. Feeling a bit twisted being in love with daughter and mother, my feelings of love finally diminished enough for Samantha to manifest more for Christine.

"May I sleep with you?"

A place where I'd never go before I was ready to go now. No longer playing the jilted lover, for the first time, when I looked in Christine's blue eyes, I no longer saw my wife's mother. I no longer felt as if I was doing something wrong. I no longer saw Samantha staring back at me to make me feel guilty. Over with playing the abandoned husband, when I stared down at her ever present cleavage, I no longer saw my mother-in-law. I saw her tits. Now, when I kissed her and parted her lips with my tongue before making passionate love with her, I saw her for the woman that she is and has always been. I saw Christine.

Like mother like daughter, kissing Christine reminded me of kissing Samantha. Beautiful in her own right, who wouldn't want to kiss Christine? Where Samantha faltered, Christine shined. An amazing, talented, and intelligent woman, the spitting image of her daughter physically, only she was a much morally better and a more mature person. As pretty as she was on the outside, she was beautiful on the inside too, something that couldn't be said about selfish, self-absorbed, and self-centered Samantha.

Funny how at a time like this I'd think that but, while I was ready to make love with her mother, I wondered where her daughter was. Who knows where she was and who she's fucking and sucking? Had Michael not looked so much like me, I'd question if the baby was even mine. Yet, now that I've cared for him for two years, it wouldn't matter to me who fathered the baby. He's my son.

Now that I was about to have sex with Christine, I wondered, if I had married her instead of Samantha and with my role as husband reversed, if I'd want daughter over mother in the way that I wanted mother over daughter. A human weakness, are we ever happy with the one we have? My question was a mute one, as Samantha was the one who left me and not the other way around. Madly in love with her, she was the one who didn't want me. She was the one not happy enough with me to leave me.

Maybe my wife figured by leaving me with her mother, if the two of us were left alone long enough we'd gravitate to one another. Maybe she was smarter than I thought. Maybe knowing me as the sexual man that I am and the attractive, lonely woman her mother is, she knew us better than we knew ourselves. Perhaps a stretch, her devious way to keep it all in the family, but maybe her leaving us together was her way of matchmaking me with her mother. Whatever my speculations and suppositions, Christine was now in my life instead of Samantha.

A different time back then, with pregnancy more of a working woman's disease than a blessing, her mother had a modeling contract on the table that was withdrawn when she became pregnant with Samantha. Preferring to raise her c***d than have an abortion to travel the globe for the sake of art, photography, and beauty, she preferred making her own life at home with her c***d as any good mother and wife would. Only her love story abruptly ended when her husband cheated on her with her best friend. With history repeating itself, he left her and abandoned his c***d for another woman just as Samantha left me and abandoned Michael for another man.

In the way that there's a reason for everything, as a single mother, Christine took a job for a modeling agent as her top administrative assistant. Even though she was eventually offered another contract to model and declined, she did some impromptu, fill-in modeling jobs on the side, whenever models were a no show. Preferring to stay behind the camera, she stayed in the background, that is, until she introduced her daughter to her boss. A one in a million face and body that launched dozens of advertising campaigns, Samantha was the innocent darling of the modeling industry for ten, long, insufferable years.

Samantha, Samantha, Samantha, as famous as any pro athlete, it had always been all about Samantha and her modeling career. From the time she was discovered at 15-years-old by her mother's employer, a top modeling agent, she had always been the shining star, the superstar, and the emerging supermodel. Making the rounds and appearing on all of the high fashion magazine covers, she had an entire entourage doting on her to help her walk down the runway. With their sole purpose to make her happy, she was made to feel special. She was privileged. Treated like royalty, she was spoiled.

Now that she's gone, with Samantha no longer financially supporting us, it was just her mother and me fending for ourselves. With her modeling career nearing the end, she didn't need us anymore in our moral support roles to help her get through her day. Always surrounded by people, she had enough bloodsuckers on her payroll helping her to get up, get dressed, and get out to earn money. It was always only about the money with her anyway.

"May I sleep with you?"

It wasn't as if Christine asking to sleep with me came out of the blue. After Samantha dumped me and ended her relationship with her mother, our way to get through our days without her, we had fooled around a little before Christine stood at my bedroom door in her sexy nightgown and before we developed a sexual relationship. Nothing more than kissing without tongues, hugging without humps, and touching without feeling one another sexually, we soon became dependent upon one another for all our needs.

Basking in her shine and hidden behind her shadow, as if Samantha had been our sun and we were her moons revolving around her, the titillation of our teasing, flirting, and flashing made us forget how unhappy we were when she left. Always at her side at fashion shows, parties, and premiers before, no longer Samantha's handsome husband and her mirror image mother, we were now anonymous in our stay at home roles. A slow burn building, as if our sexual relationship was meant to be, had I started off this way with Samantha in the way that I did with Christine, slow and easy instead of fast and wild, perhaps we'd still be together.

"Thank you for the wonderful dinner," I said giving Christine a kiss on the cheek and reaching around her back to give her a polite hug that any son-in-law would give his mother-in-law while wishing that I could reach down to feel her tight ass.

"Oh, you're so very welcome," she said throwing her arms around my neck with a wide smile while squishing her C cup breasts against my muscular chest as if she was my lover.

Every time she hugged me like that she made me feel as if I had just won an award for something. Every time she kissed me like that, I wanted, expected, and hoped for more. Making me take a step back for the guilt that I had in my perverted sexual feelings for her, she always surprised me that her hug was more sexual than mine. Yet, innocently I figured, no doubt sensing my loneliness, she was just trying to comfort me where her daughter failed. Gradually, as our loneliness grew and our connection increased, our kisses went from a kiss on the cheek to a peck on the lips with our hugs lasting a little longer.

The first time we touched lips, as if we were both surprised that we kissed, our eyes remained open. Then with the pecks lasting a little longer, considered more of a smooch than a peck, closing our eyes with the anticipation of the kiss while hugging, we kissed in the morning after we awakened and at night before retiring for bed. Especially in the beginning, kissing one another as if we were brother and sister or an old couple who had been married too long, our kisses were more displays of genuine affection and of friendship than of sexual desire and of lust. After a while, it was the excitement of kissing mother that stopped me from missing daughter. It was Christine's kisses that had me thinking more about her than about Samantha. More than longing to kiss Samantha and yearning to have sex with her again, I now longed to kiss Christine and yearned have sex with her.

"Good morning, Christine," I said welcoming that body to body physical connection and eager to touch my lips to hers. "It's going to be another beautiful sunshine day of summer."

Afraid to make my feelings for her known, I didn't know how to make the kiss last longer without being obvious in my intention and foolish in my misplaced desire. Being that she was still my mother-in-law and I was her son-in-law, waiting for her to take the first step or give me a sign of encouragement, I didn't want to make Christine afraid to stay with me. Fearing that I'd ruin things should Samantha return, I didn't want her mother telling her daughter that I made a pass at her. Better the other way around with her making a pass at me, having to be content with lusting for her while masturbating over her, we discussed the weather instead.

"Good morning, Stephen," she said returning my eagerness with her kiss. "Yes, not as hot as yesterday, the weatherman said that it still may hit ninety degrees."

When I closed my eyes to kiss her, I imagined I was in bed with her naked and making love to her. When I closed my eyes to kiss her, I imagined she loved me as much as I loved her. Sadly and frustratingly, she was talking about the summer weather being hot when my temperature for her was already boiling. Eventually adding color to our friendship, we made lots of small talk while ignoring the elephant in the room, our obvious sexual attraction for one another.

Over time, our hugs lasted longer with our entire torsos touching and with my horny hands feeling the back outline of her bra and moving all the way down to the top of her bikini panty. Just by hugging Christine, I was aroused and it took all the control I had not to reach one hand down to cup her sweet ass and move my other hand around to feel her big breast. Expecting her to pull away from me when my cock made a hard appearance against her, I was surprised when she didn't end our hug and take a step back.

Just as I could feel the softness of her stomach against my erect cock, I imagined she could feel my big prick against her toned belly. Maybe she enjoyed hugging me as much as I enjoyed hugging her. Maybe it aroused her as much as it aroused me to feel my hard prick pressed against her soft tummy. But for a few pounds heavier than her always too thin daughter, she felt the shapely same in my arms as did Samantha. When holding Christine, I couldn't help but feel that I was holding Samantha in the way that I imagined she'd feel twenty years from now.

"I'll see you tonight, Christine," I said giving her a hug and a smooch on the lips before leaving the house for work.

Pausing each time to make the kiss last just a little longer, always when I kissed her, even just a smooch, I imagined more. I imagined us naked and in bed together French kissing while making love. As soon as I thought that, I remembered she was my mother-in-law and not my wife, my girlfriend, or my lover. Yet as soon as I thought about us together in bed naked, I was hot for her and my cock ached for her.

Always in the back of my mind stopping me from taking the next step, what if Samantha returned suddenly and unexpectedly? What if she was sorry and wanted to be part of our lives again? What would I do embroiled in a lover's triangle between mother and daughter? Who would I chose? Which would want me? Would mother or daughter fight the other over me or would I lose both of them?

With our faces splashed all over the tabloids, what if the press got a hold of famed model's husband having sex with her mother? Even though she left me and abandoned our son, with her money she could sue me for custody and win by legally spinning the truth with her lies to make the breakup my fault. Just as I was afraid to start a sexual relationship with her mother, not wanting to risk losing my son to her daughter, I was forever hopeful of Samantha's return. Nonetheless, pining over daughter didn't stop me from lusting over mother.

"How was your day?"

In the way that I once yearned her daughter would treat me as her loving husband, her mother treated me as her loving son-in-law. Always touching my hand, my arm, my shoulder, or my leg, Christine looked at me and smiled before returning my hug with her own smooch on the lips. Wishing she'd slip me hers, it took all the self-control that I had not to slip her my tongue, lift up her short skirt, cup her sweet pussy, and push her back on the carpet, the table, or the bed and make love to her before fucking her, really fucking her and slamming my cock inside of her.

With mother looking so much like daughter, never missing Samantha in the way that I needed to miss her in order to forget her, being with Christine and living together in the same house, made me feel as if nothing had changed and everything remained the same. Gone on modeling assignment for days and weeks at a time, giving me a rushed phone call or a truncated e-mail, her daughter was never home anyway. Now, as if her daughter no longer existed, I wished I knew then what I know now. Even with our differences in ages, unbelievably and undeniably, the mother and not the daughter was who I should have dated from the start.

Incapable of showing sincere affection and real caring, her distant, self-absorbed daughter never showed me the attentiveness her mother did. After getting to know Christine while seeing Samantha for the miserable bitch she was, I was pleasantly surprised when all that I wanted and needed in her daughter I found in her mother. After a while, sexually fantasizing over Christine in the way that I used to over Samantha when we were dating, I so wanted to part her lips with my tongue. After a while, having already fantasized about making out with her, I wondered what it would feel like to French kiss my mother-in-law. I wondered if Christine kissed the same exciting way as did her daughter back when we were dating and so in love.

Stopping me from taking her in my arms to tell her that I love her and want her, there was always that imaginary line that I wasn't completely comfortable crossing. It's one thing to masturbate over the thoughts of her and quite another thing to have sex with her forbidden body. Being that I wasn't blood related to Christine, my apprehension to begin an intimate, sexual relationship with her was more of a taboo than it was my balking at real i****t. Nonetheless, still married to her daughter, the thoughts of having sex with my mother-in-law and her having sex with her son-in-law was as disturbing as it was exciting.

Still forbidden to most God fearing, Bible thumbing, and church going people, uncomfortable with others knowing what I do behind closed bedroom doors, especially with my mother-in-law, if I was to have sex with Christine, not needing the approval or wanting the shame of family and friends, I'd keep our relationship to ourselves. Nonetheless, the perverted thoughts of having an i****tuously forbidden, sexual relationship with my mother-in-law didn't stop me from imagining her naked when alone in my room with my hand around my cock and stroking myself. The lust that I felt for Christine didn't stop me from staring, leering, and peeping at her in the hopes of seeing something that I wasn't supposed to see. Sexually sated through my masturbation sessions over her enough to temporarily calm my horniness, however my lust for her increased whenever I saw her panty in an up skirt on her bra in a down blouse.


My sexy outfit of choice, better than imagining seeing her naked, I wondered what she looked like in her bra and panty. I wondered what she looked like naked. I wondered if she talked dirty in bed. I wondered what she acted like and sounded like when having an orgasm. I wondered if her pussy tasted the same as her daughter's pussy. Being that she was 18 years older than me, nearly from another generation, I wondered if she sucked cock. I wondered if she'd allow me to cum in her mouth and if she swallowed. While stroking myself, just the mere intimate, sexy thoughts of her dressing and undressing for me maintained my erection and, just imagining Christine in all manners of undress, was enough to make me cum.

As if we were already husband and wife, after having spent so much quality time together walking while talking, crying and laughing, going out to eat, watching movies at home, playing Scrabble and cards, going food shopping, to the theatre, and to the beach together, we enjoyed one another's company. More than just wanting to have sex and more than being hoped for lovers, we were best friends. With a new woman in my life, I was in a better place. My life was different and so much better now with Christine than it ever was with Samantha. A better person than I was before, not as delusional and angry, finally free of her self-centered, self-absorbed, and spoiled daughter, I was happy with her mother.

When I went to the movies with her, accustomed to going to the movies with her daughter, as if we were boyfriend and girlfriend, I still put my arm around her shoulders while watching the film and holding hands. Unlike her daughter occasionally giving me a public blowjob in the movie theatre, too much of a lady, I could never imagine Christine sucking my cock at the movies. Still, she'd rest her head on my shoulder and look up at me with her big, blue eyes during a love scene. As if expecting me to kiss her, her subtle signal, maybe I should have.

Whenever we found a babysitter to go to the beach without the baby, as if we were lovers as well as friends, we'd walk the length of the beach and back holding hands. Then, hot from all that walking, we'd frolic in the water and lay next to one another on our towels with our toes buried in the hot sand. While putting sunscreen on one another's bodies, we touched one another nearly everywhere but the places we both so wanted to touch. Unable to resist the urge, feeling freer outdoors, it's funny how I felt more comfortable taking liberties with her hot body in public, in the water, and on the sand than I did in the privacy of my own home. Perhaps, as if haunted by my sexual feelings, with the walls of my house filled with and hanging on to the sexual desire I had for her, outside it was all play and indoors it was too real.

"Last one in the water is a rotten egg," she'd suddenly say to give herself a lead while racing me to the water.

Hugging and kissing her without tongues while wading in the water, I'd press my Spandex clad torso against her Spandex clad belly. Then, coming up behind her to push and gently rub my bathing suit clad penis against her bikini bottomed ass, while reaching up to cup the underside of her big breasts through her bikini top before falling forward in the water with her, I was incorrigible and she was such a tease.

"Shark attack," I said grabbing her from behind and holding her tight against me while pretending to gnaw on her neck.

"Stephen, you naughty man, be careful with your hands," she said laughing and pushing my hands down away from her breasts while turning to face me. Then turning the tables on me, she'd unexpectedly grab a handful of me. "Tit for cock," she said with a laugh.

Grabbing me more than I ever dared grab her and playing my game with sexually aroused excitement, as if my cock was a tug toy, she'd pull me forward by my bathing suit clad erection while laughing. Then, as if a spark that lit a flame, something between us noticeably changed. After we were thrown together when Samantha left, lust was always in the air before, but it was something more tangible and more deeper than that now. No longer masked by sex, what we had was real affection for one another. What we had was love and we both were ready to move to the next level.

Always feeling so horny and with Christine there to remind me of how much I missed her daughter, the only thing wasn't getting from Christine was sex. The polar opposite, now questioning why I was even with her, not getting anything else from her, the only thing I ever got from Samantha was sex. Just missing the sex, if only I could have all that I was missing from Samantha in Christine, or vice versa, I'd be a happy man. If only I could morph the two women together as one or if only the three of us could live together sexually, my life would be complete. Unfortunately, the three of us living together sexually was as much of a fantasy as Christine wanting to have sex with me. Not nearly perverted and as horny as I was, I knew she never would.

Hoping to see something that I shouldn't see, a flash of her panty in an up skirt or a down blouse view of her bra, I always made sure that I sat across from her or stood over her. No doubt with her feeling comfortable in my house, she trusted me not to take advantage of her by looking. Whenever her knees were a little too far apart to give me an up skirt view of her panty or an up nightgown view of her pussy, I looked. Whenever her loose blouse was unbuttoned enough to give me a view of her bra or her nightgown was leaning open enough to give me a view of her cleavage and a partial view of her breasts, I looked.

Slow to adjust herself and correct her wardrobe malfunctions, was she oblivious to my stares or was she was flashing me? Maybe it was my wishful and perverted thinking but I couldn't help but have the feeling that she enjoyed showing me her body as much as I enjoyed seeing her body. If mother was anything like daughter, I figured she'd be just as horny, just as sexual, and just as an exhibitionist as I was a voyeur. One day, when her knees were as far apart as my eyes were crossed while staring at the triangular piece of cotton between her legs, she looked up from the magazine she was reading to catch me mindlessly leering at her exposed pussy mound and at the impression her camel toe made in her sheer, yellow panty.

"Stephen, you randy man, were you staring at my panty?" She gave me a look of admonishment before closing her knees and crossing her legs.

"Sorry," I said embarrassed that she caught me looking. "With you looking so much like your daughter, I was just thinking of how Samantha used to sit like that across from me. I meant no disrespect. I guess I'm just horny."

"It's okay. It was my fault for not sitting like a lady," she said. "I'm just glad I have on clean underwear," she said with a laugh.

The early morning and late evening with her wearing her nearly transparent nightgown is my favorite times of the day. With the morning, summer sun pouring inside the house, when she stands by the big, bay, living room window looking outside, I can nearly count her blonde, pussy hairs. As if she's standing there naked, I can see enough of her to imagine the rest. After staring at her ass, with her turning one way to look out the window the other way and with me enjoying the nearly naked, side profile silhouettes views of her breasts, always she turns to face me to talk to me and to cause me to quickly remove my stare. Now with her areolas, nipples, and blonde patch of pubic hair clearly visible through her thin nightgown, we'd talk as if she's fully dressed, as if I couldn't see any part of her body, and as if I wasn't aroused and interested in seeing, touching, and feeling more of her.

As soon as she looked away, attempting to memorize every minute detail of her sexy body, I stared at all that I can see of her. After she caught me staring at her panty in an up skirt, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable enough to start wearing a robe, I didn't want her to catch me looking again at what she was showing through her nightgown. I didn't want her to see me leering. Not wanting her to see me staring, I didn't want her to know that I wanted her as much as I had once wanted her daughter.

With her walking around me without the modesty of a bathrobe, with me being so horny, and with me so terribly attracted to her, doesn't she realize that I can see her shapely body through her sheer nightgown? Is she that oblivious to my stares or is she purposely flashing me? Maybe her flashing me was all very innocent. I wondered. Whatever her reason to tease me, whatever her game, innocent or not, I enjoyed the view.

"Stephen. Hello? Weren't you listening? I was talking to you," she said looking at me as if I was drunk. When she looked down at herself, she saw the reason for my hypnotic stare. "Oh, dear, so used to living alone, I didn't realize this nightgown is so transparent," she said pulling her nightgown tightly to the side to look at her hand behind it while giving me an even better view through it. "Were you stealing peeks of my body?"

"Sorry," I said. With me so terribly attracted to you and with me so terribly horny for you, I wanted to rip off your nightgown and have sex with your beautiful, naked body, I wanted to say but didn't. "Stealing peeks of your body? No, of course not. Don't be silly. Don't flatter yourself, Christine," I said with a laugh. "I was just mindlessly staring off in space while thinking of the work I still needed to do for Monday."

In the evening, as if she's a stripper being spotlighted on stage, she stands in front of the television in her thinly, revealing nightgown to clean the screen or to pick out a movie. With no other lights on in the living room to ruin my view, I can see through her nightgown as if she's naked.

"You missed a spot," I said hoping she'd lean lower to give me a longer and better view of her shapely body.

"Where?" She took a step back to look at the TV screen before bending and stretching while showing me all that I wanted to see.

"There," I said pointing and watching her breasts lean forward with her body while imagining that she was hanging her tits over my face.

When she leans in the refrigerator while wearing her nightgown and looking for something to eat, as if she's standing in front of an full body view X-ray machine, she's illuminated by the refrigerator light. Enjoying the voyeuristic view, I take those nearly naked visions of her with me to my room to masturbate over her later.

"Where are the black olives?" She stuck her head out of the fridge to look at me staring at her.

"I think they're way in the back behind everything," I said having purposely moved them there and in the hopes she'd take longer to find whatever it was she wanted.

I wondered if she masturbated over me in the way that I masturbated over her. I wondered if she was just as horny as I was. Horny enough that I figured she'd want to see as much as my body as I wanted to see of her body and as much as she was showing me her body, I made a habit of walking around the house in just a tee shirt and pajama bottoms without underwear and with my pee-hole unbuttoned. Driven by my lust for my mother-in-law, I had become a exhibitionistic pervert. After feeling so voyeuristically horny being flashed nightly and given early morning views of her naked body beneath her nightgown, I couldn't believe that I was relegated to flashing my MILF of a mother-in-law accidentally on purpose peeks of my cock.

Excited by what I hoped I was showing her and by what I hoped she was seeing, I pretended that I didn't know I was so exposed. Trying to tease her in the way she teases me when she obviously pretends that she doesn't know all that I can see of her body through her nearly transparent nightgown, every now and then my cock made a surprise appearance. Just as I hoped she's purposely flashing me her panties, pussy, bra, and breasts, I enjoyed purposely flashing her my cock. Even though she maintained her decorum with constant eye contact whenever I was so exposed, I know she still could see my cock in her peripheral vision.

If only she'd stare at my cock whenever it accidentally on purposed dangled from my pajama, I'd have something to masturbate over later that night. If only she'd take me in her hand and stroke me before taking me in her mouth and invite me to fuck her pussy, I wouldn't have to imagine all that I imagine while masturbating. Then, lost in my lust for her while I unabashedly flashed her, she awakened me from my sexual fantasy of her.

"Stephen. Fix yourself. You're exposed," she said with a little laugh while looking down to stare.

"Oops, sorry," I said tucking myself back inside.

I did it. I flashed my mother-in-law my cock. She looked. She saw my cock. She actually stared at my prick. Imagining her reaching out to touch me and take me in her hand to stroke me before falling to her knees to take me in her mouth, I couldn't wait to masturbate over that little, sexy charade later.

Glad that I was with her alone during the summer, better than any other place, the beach was my favorite place to be with her. As genetically blessed as was her daughter, Christine looked hot in her barely there bikini. Not nearly looking her age, I don't know of very many 48-year-old women who can get away with showing so much of their bodies but I never tired of looking at whatever she was showing. Much like seeing Heather Locklear in her prime in a teeny weenie bikini, whenever seeing Christine in her white, barely there bikini, I imagined seeing her in her bra and panty.

When she went for a dip in the ocean, her soaking wet bathing suit was stuck to her skin as if she was wearing Latex, disposable gloves. Watching her through my sunglasses, when she ran up the sand towards me with her now nearly transparent bikini, I wondered if she knew I could see the shadows of her pink nipples and her blonde patch of pubic hair. When she turned her back to me to face the ocean to enjoy the view or the horizon, she gave me my perfect vertical view or her ass to enjoy. Watching her bend while drying her hair with her towel, she showed me the outline of her ass crack through her bikini bottom.

"That's my favorite bikini," I said using my compliment to stare longer at all that she was showing.

"Thank you," she said. "You don't think it's too sheer? You can't see anything, can you?"

"Nah. Your modesty is intact," I said lying.

In the way she looked at me, I knew she was testing me and teasing me.

Having made me so horny with her display of exhibitionism. Whenever she flashed me her body through her bikini, while her back was turned to me, as if they had accidentally fallen out, I'd remove my cock from the netting of my bathing suit and sit facing her with my cock and testicles in full view. Just as I looked at her when she was showing, I caught her glancing at me when I was so exposed. Making it grow firm without having to touch it with my hand, the hot, summer sun felt good on my exposed cock.

Having as much fun flashing her as I was excited to see her flashing me, with me no longer missing her subtle hints of voyeurism, I wondered if she was getting my not so subtle hints of exhibitionism. Was I making her as aroused as she was making me? Unable to read the signs and unable to get her signals enough for me to take the next step, that is, if she was even sending any signs and/or signals, I didn't know until that night when she appeared at my bedroom door.

"May I sleep with you?"

Her years of running, playing tennis, and beach volleyball shaped her legs, toned her stomach, and perfected her ass. Easily she looked ten years younger from the front. Not that her face was old, her face was beautiful but she was one of those women who, when seeing her from the back, looked twenty years younger. It was my exciting privilege when she asked me to rub sunscreen on her soft, firm, and supple skin.

After watching her flash me and after seeing so much of her exposed body, always I had an erection. Kneeling beside her with my Spandex clad erection so very close to her mouth, I imagined her pulling down the front of my bathing suit, reaching her hand inside, and taking me in her hand before taking me in her mouth. Now that I think about it all of my sexual fantasies of my mother-in-law have the same theme of her blowing me. If only she knew what I was thinking and if only she knew it was her I wanted and not her daughter, I wonder if she'd rescind her request for me to rub sunscreen all over her toned, nearly naked body or if she'd agree to give me all that I wanted from her.

With her on her stomach, her top untied, and the sides of her squished breasts and rounded ass cheeks in plain view, as if she was an alabaster statue carved from stone, I stared at her mesmerized by her beautiful, well preserved body. Concentrating on her back, giving her more of an erotic massage than a gentle rub, it took me a few tries before I summoned the courage to rub sunscreen on the sides of her exposed breasts and massage her round ass cheeks with the slimy lotion. So close to touching her areolas and fingering her nipples, waiting for her to protest to stop my horny hands from touching her where no son-in-law should touch his mother-in-law, I rubbed her longer and slower than need be.

Oozing sunscreen out of the container as if oozing cum from my cock, unable to touch the parts of her that I so wanted to feel, the sexual excitement I felt massaging her was frustratingly anticlimactic. Oxymoronic in protecting my mother-in-law from sunburn with sunscreen when she needed more protection from me and my horny hands than from the hot sun. Once I passed that first awkward hurtle of rubbing my mother-in-law's back and the sides of her breasts, I wished that I could cup her pussy through her bikini bottom and rub her clit while fingering her. I couldn't wait to massage her ass cheeks while slowly and deliberately moving my hand higher between her shapely thighs.

Each time I moved my hand closer to her pussy, as if dizzy with hunger, a wave of sexual excitement carried me away with her to a deserted, tropical island with white, sandy beaches and clear blue and green pastel waters. The higher I moved my hand and the longer I left it there, as if in between the tops of her thighs were her G-spot, I could feel her tense and inhale. Was she embarrassed that I was touching her where no son-in-law should ever touch his mother-in-law or was she hoping that I'd take our relationship a bit further and move my hand higher to finger her pussy? I didn't know. Sometimes unable to read the subtle signs, afraid that I'd make a fool of myself, I couldn't tell if Samantha's mother wanted me to touch her as much as I wanted to touch her.

After having a couple of cocktails in the evening, wine mostly, as if there was the gravitational pull of a full moon attracting us or a giant, imaginary magnet drawing us together, we were on the verge of starting something forbidden. With our words as seductive as our flashing actions, as if we were having pillow talk without the sex, our conversations were laced with sexual innuendoes. For her to not only to participate in the dialogue but also to heighten the dialogue by confessing her naughtiness with her own provocative sexual suggestions, she enjoyed the sex filled repartee as much as I did.

"Before you became a grandmother, Christine, what did you do for fun...grandma?"

"Grandma? Even though I love being Michael's grandmother, hearing you call me grandma makes me feel so old," she said looking at me smiling as if waiting for me to contradict her and I did.

"You're not old, Christine. You're beautiful. You look like you're in your thirties instead of your forties, especially from the back," I said with a dirty laugh.


Oh, so you like my ass, do you?"

"You have a beautiful behind. You have the ass of a twenty-year-old."

"Thank you, Stephen," she said with another laugh while taking another sip of her wine.

"Tell me about your sex life," I said looking at her with excited sexual anticipation in the hopes she'd confess more fodder for me to masturbate over later.

"My sex life? What sex life?" She laughed. "Besides, if I had a sex life, it would be privately off limits."

"C'mon, I'll kiss and tell if you will," I said.

"Much like your sex life has been after Samantha left, my sex life is non-existent too," she said with a reticent pause and looking at me as she was hiding something, but what?

Such a strange comment for a mother to make about her daughter. I wondered what Samantha leaving had anything to do with her sex life. Is my mother-in-law, the main care provider for my son hiding sexual secrets? Does she have skeletons in her closet that she doesn't want exposed? Perhaps she has a tarnished past. Obviously with her just as sexually aroused discussing sex, maybe she was once as sexual as her daughter.

Wanting her to continue to play the sexual innuendo game, I needed to feed her some dirt so that she'd reciprocate and feed me some too. Only, she was right. After Samantha left, other than by pleasuring myself with my own hand, my sexual life ended. Nonetheless this sexual jousting was fun.

"I still masturbate from time to time," I said out of the blue but not confessing that I masturbated over her nightly.

"You do?" She looked at me as if shocked that I'd pleasure myself with my hand and I looked at her as if shocked that she didn't. "Over what?"

Over you I wanted to say and, perhaps because of the second glass of wine I was drinking, I shocked myself when I said what I was thinking.

"Over you."

She looked at me as if I threw cold water in her face. I wondered if she'd give me the same look if I stuck my cock in her face. Wanting to apologize to her for being so disrespectful, that is, until I realize that I hadn't verbalized my thoughts.

"Over me?" She looked at me incredulously. "You masturbate over me?" She laughed out loud. "Seriously?" Then she looked at me with curiosity. "Why?"

Already taking my leap of faith, jumping out of a plane without a parachute or diving in the deep end of the pool without checking if there was any water, I was walking on thin ice in confessing my lust for my mother-in-law. A risk worth taking, I suspected she felt the same way about me as I felt about her.

"Why? Why not? Why wouldn't I? Look at you. You're gorgeous. You're sexy," I said pausing in my sexual confession to fortify my courage with another sip of wine before blurting out what I was thinking. "I'd do you, if you weren't my mother-in-law," I said with a laugh.

"You'd do me? You would? Really?" She raised an eyebrow to look at me with sexual interest. "Thank you, I think," she said with a laugh. After a long, thoughtful pause, she said something in her glass while sipping her wine that shocked me. "And I'd do you, even if you are my son-in-law," she said in a quiet voice while slowly crossing her legs to flash me her white panty beneath her short skirt.

Calling me on my bluff, only that was before and this was now. Now that she's standing in my bedroom doorway asking my permission to sleep with me, I should have recognized her not so subtle sign when she confessed that she'd do me, even with me being her son-in-law. E