Mother in Law Couldn't Resist

The house always felt too quiet after Sarah left for her placement overseas. She’d only been gone six weeks, but the silence settled in like dust on the furniture. I was twenty-two, still crashing in the spare room of her childhood home because my own parents had made it clear I wasn’t welcome back. Fiona, Sarah’s mother, had said it was fine. “Stay as long as you need, love. Just keep the place tidy and chip in for the shopping.”

Fiona was thirty-eight, fifteen years older than me, and she filled every room she entered. Thick dark hair that she usually wore pinned up for work, full lips painted a soft red, and a body that still turned heads even after two kids and years of marriage to a man who treated her like furniture. Alan, her husband, was a mean drunk who worked odd shifts and spent most nights either out or passed out upstairs. Their sex life, from what I’d overheard, had been dead for years. Fiona still dressed like a woman who remembered what it felt like to be wanted. Tight blouses that strained across her heavy tits, skirts that hugged the curve of her arse, stockings that whispered when she walked.

I started noticing everything. The way her 36E tits swayed under a thin robe when she made coffee in the morning. The faint outline of her nipples when the central heating kicked in. The soft jiggle of her hips when she bent to load the dishwasher. One night I came home late and found her on the sofa in a short nightdress, legs tucked under her, reading. The hem had ridden up enough to show the soft inner skin of her thighs. She looked up, smiled, and asked if I wanted tea. I said yes just so I could sit close enough to smell the vanilla scent of her lotion.

The teasing started small. I’d leave the bathroom door cracked while I showered, knowing she was downstairs. Steam would billow out and I’d catch her glancing up the stairs more than once. She began doing the same—walking from her bedroom to the bathroom in nothing but a towel that barely covered the tops of her thighs. One morning the towel slipped just enough for me to see the full side of one heavy breast, the dark pink nipple already tight from the cool air. She didn’t rush to cover herself. She just adjusted the towel slowly, eyes meeting mine for a second longer than necessary.

I started sleeping naked with the door open. My cock would thicken under the sheet just from the sound of her moving around. One Wednesday I was on a late shift, still in bed at half seven when she padded past in a black lace bra and matching knickers. The bra pushed her tits up into a deep cleavage that made my mouth water. She paused at my doorway, eyes dropping to the tent of the sheet. I didn’t move. She stood there for a full ten seconds before continuing to the bathroom. When she came back she was still in the underwear, and this time she stepped inside my room.

“You’re awake,” she said softly.

“Yeah.”

Her gaze stayed on the outline of my cock. “I shouldn’t be in here.”

“But you are.”

She took another step. The lace of her knickers was already damp at the crotch. I could see the faint dark patch. My hand slid under the sheet and wrapped around my shaft, stroking once, twice. The head pushed free of the foreskin, shiny with precum. Fiona’s breath hitched.

“Touch it,” I said.

She hesitated only a second before her hand closed around me. Her fingers were cool, soft, and they couldn’t quite meet around the thick base. She stroked slowly, watching the way the skin rolled over the head, the way a clear bead of precum welled up and smeared across her thumb.

“Jesus, Fiona… that’s it. Wank me.”

She did. Up and down, twisting a little at the top, her painted nails catching the light. I reached between her legs and cupped the soaked lace. She gasped but didn’t pull away. Two fingers slipped under the edge and found her cunt already slick and swollen. I rubbed her clit in slow circles while she jerked me harder.

“Take the knickers off.”

She shoved them down her thighs and stepped out of them. Her pussy was neatly trimmed, the outer lips puffy, the inner ones darker and glistening. I sat up, pulled her closer, and buried my face between her thighs. She tasted clean and musky, the sharp tang of a woman who hadn’t been properly fucked in years. My tongue dragged up her slit, circled her clit, then pushed inside. Fiona’s hands landed on my head, fingers threading through my hair.

“Oh fuck… oh my God…”

I licked her until her thighs started to shake, then pulled back just enough to speak against her wet flesh. “On the bed. On your back.”

She climbed up, legs spreading wide. I knelt between them and pushed two fingers into her cunt. She was tight, hot, and so wet the wet sounds filled the room. I curled them against her front wall and sucked her clit at the same time. Fiona’s back arched off the mattress.

“I’m going to come—don’t stop—”

I didn’t. I fucked her with my fingers and tongue until she clamped down hard and a rush of juice flooded my mouth. She cried out, thighs locking around my head, hips grinding against my face. When the last tremor faded I crawled up her body, shoved my cock against her entrance, and pushed in.

The first thrust sank halfway. Fiona’s eyes flew open. “Christ, you’re thick—”

I gave her another inch, then another, until my balls pressed against her arse. She was stretched around me, the rim of her cunt gripping the base of my shaft. I stayed still for a second, letting her feel every pulse, then started fucking her in long, deep strokes. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with her soft moans.

“Harder,” she whispered.

I braced my hands on either side of her head and drove into her. Her heavy tits bounced with every thrust. I leaned down and sucked one nipple into my mouth, biting gently, then harder. Fiona’s nails raked down my back.

“You’re fucking your daughter’s boyfriend,” I growled against her breast. “Your married cunt is full of my cock.”

“I know—God, I know—don’t stop—”

I flipped her onto her hands and knees. The view of her arse spread open, her soaked pussy lips clinging to my shaft as I pushed back in, almost made me come on the spot. I gripped her hips and pounded her. Every thrust forced a wet grunt from her throat. Spit and precum dripped from her cunt onto the sheets. I reached under and rubbed her clit in tight circles.

“Come on my cock again. Soak it.”

She did. Her whole body shuddered, cunt clamping down in rhythmic pulses that milked me hard. I held off, barely, and kept fucking her through it until she was whimpering and pushing back for more.

I pulled out, flipped her again, and straddled her chest. My cock, shiny with her juices, slapped against her tits. “Squeeze them around me.”

Fiona pressed her heavy breasts together, creating a soft, warm tunnel. I fucked her cleavage, the head popping out the top with every stroke. She tilted her chin and licked the tip whenever it came close. Precum smeared across her lips and chin.

“Open,” I ordered.

She opened her mouth and I slid in, tasting myself mixed with her cunt. She sucked greedily, tongue swirling under the head, cheeks hollowing. I fucked her face in short thrusts until my balls tightened.

“I’m going to come—”

She pulled off just enough to say, “In my mouth,” then took me deep again. I unloaded with a groan, thick ropes of cum flooding her tongue. She swallowed what she could, the rest spilling from the corners of her mouth and dripping onto her tits. When I finally pulled free she licked her lips and looked up at me with glassy eyes.

We didn’t speak for a long minute. Then Fiona sat up, wiped her chin with the back of her hand, and said quietly, “This can’t happen again.”

I laughed. “You’re still dripping my cum and you’re already lying.”

She stood, collected her clothes, and left the room. Ten minutes later I heard her car start. I lay there with my cock still half-hard, the taste of her on my tongue, knowing it was only the beginning.

That night she came home late. Alan was already upstairs snoring. Fiona found me in the kitchen in just my boxers. She walked straight up to me, pushed me against the counter, and dropped to her knees. No words. Just her mouth sliding down my cock until her nose pressed against my stomach. She sucked like she was starving, wet filthy sounds filling the quiet house. I tangled my fingers in her hair and fucked her throat until tears ran down her cheeks and spit soaked the front of her blouse.

When I was hard as iron she stood, bent over the kitchen table, and pulled her skirt up. No knickers. Just her swollen cunt, still a little red from the morning. I slammed into her from behind and fucked her hard enough that the table legs scraped across the floor. She came twice before I pulled out and painted her arse cheeks with thick white stripes of cum. She reached back, scooped some up with two fingers, and sucked them clean while looking over her shoulder at me.

We didn’t stop after that.

The next morning she woke me with her mouth already on my cock. She rode me reverse cowgirl, her arse bouncing, the wet sound of her cunt swallowing me over and over. I watched my shaft disappear between her cheeks and felt her juices run down my balls. When she came she collapsed forward, still grinding, and I flipped her onto her back and pounded her until I flooded her womb. She stayed on her back with her legs open, watching my cum leak out of her and drip onto the sheets.

“We’re going to do this every day until Sarah comes home,” I told her.

Fiona’s eyes fluttered. “And then what?”

“Then we keep doing it and she never finds out.”