As we unfold this chapter it is safe to say that, in the minds of most readers of the series, I have turned into a slut as me and my father-in-law have hit the sheets. I am expecting it because, after all, that is the course the human mind would follow or has to follow after the events that unfolded in the last chapter.
* * *
I tore off my mouth from Bryan’s and buried my face into his shirted chest. It was in an attempt to recover my senses. Undeniably, I was about to give in to another temptation at that moment.
Yes, it was easy then for my father-in-law to lay me into submission. Not necessarily into a downright sexual submission but rather, and to put it accurately, to a compliant submission that could no doubt turn into a consensual sex if allowed to carry on. Luckily enough, my resolve to get back to my senses prevailed.
Bending over to hearing level, Bryan murmured, asking if I was all right.
“I need to go to bed,” I managed to breath out, trying to play down the kissing. I raised my face off his chest, keeping him at arms length as the full impact of what I had done struck my mind. My God, I thought wildly. What if Albert was watching us, me here snuggled obscenely with his grandfather, my mouth on his and more. I was breathing raggedly, partly from arousal and partly from fear and shame.
“Anything wrong?” the broad-shouldered older man asked softly in his mesmeric voice.
“None … nothing …I just have to go.”
“What’s the matter? Are you worrying about your son?” he breathed out trying to rekindle the suddenly extinguished flame of intimacy.
“No. But we can’t go on with this!” I retorted, jumping up from the couch.
My chest was hammering, scared of things obvious. I wanted to rush to the safety of my bedroom but I had to find a way not to offend my father-in-law. I could not afford to hurt him at that moment as I was virtually a hostage to his promise to save me and my family from scandal. I rushed instead to the window and stared blankly into a distance just pretending to be worried of my husband’s coming.
Instantly, Bryan was behind me taking me by my bare shoulders, his hardness pressed hard to my bottom.
“You’re such an alluring woman, lady,” he whispered from behind.
“Bryan, I can’t do another wrong. I thank you for your compassion. But please, don’t make me sin again. How would that make me get back to where you want me to be?”
“I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it. No man, young or old, by your side could resist touching you.”
“Thank you, Bryan. I really need to go now.”
“As you wish,lady,” in obviously frustrated words.
He gave me a light kiss at the back of my neck before escorting me up to my bedroom door. He wished me good night and assured me of his promise to keep just to the two of us what he came to know about me and my son.
Although my father-in-law, was an attractive older man I successfully carried on with my resolve not to allow our kiss to deepen beyond compliance. I allowed him to kiss me because I was too grateful for the reassurance he had given me. It considerably relieved my otherwise tormented mind and at a time when I needed it most.
Yes, there was the sexual side of it too. I’d be lying if I deny it existed. In spite of his 65 years, the traces of Bryan’s male sexiness could still lure to bed a not so unwavering prude. Although his kiss was not as entrancing as that of the young and more vigorous Albert, it was not without passion. Thanks to my fears and the feeling called guilt the mouthlock didn’t go beyond what I would insist as a compliant kiss, however euphemistic it may sound.
Bryan’s sincerity was not without its share of the doubt. It never escaped my careful mind that he just wanted to have his chances of laying his daughter-in-law who happened to crave for compassion at that moment of emotional storm. Even with that, the euphoria that followed his gesture of kindness made me too helpless to deny him the kiss that I knew so well he long wanted to have.
The following days and weeks were difficult for both me and my son Albert. Not only that we needed to calm the sexual tension between us that invariably threatened to explode at any moment, we also had to do it impeccably, void of eccentric ways that could arouse suspicion. Somehow, my boy, young and horny as he was had a part in him too that knew how to feel guilty. That I should say helped defuse a spark that could ignite another forbidden sexual encounter.
Mark my husband meanwhile slowly regained his old self. It was, he thought, a good consequence to my father-in-law’s presence at home. If only he knew… Nonetheless, the undeclared truce, if it can be called that, put a breathing spell behind the fears and resentment that characterized our home lives since that fateful friday night.
It was in one of those emotionally quiet days when our son revealed his plan to leave home as he found a job hundreds of miles away. It was a welcomed development to his father but a depressing tuzla escort one to me if I have to be honest. But sense and sensibilities convinced me that it was the best thing that could happen to the family at that stormy stage of our lives.
My husband and I of course wished our son the best of luck in his adventure. The wish, however, was not without our assurance of help just in case he’d find it difficult at the start.
It didn’t take a week for Albert to make good his word. He left home and went on his own. Days after his departure Bryan also left home to continue living alone.
Mark and I meanwhile gradually but successfully buoyed up our otherwise slowly sinking marital relation. It startled even myself to find out that I’d soon be back to my prim and proper self not least of all in public. There were no Sundays and days of obligation when I was not in church praying and singing hymns together with the faithful.
It was about a month following Albert’s departure when I thought of saying a prayer thanking God for His help in putting firmly behind us a sleazy romance that almost scandalized our family. But the thought was clouded as quickly as it came about. The reason was my discovery of something unusual in my dresser. Quite a number of my night clothes and panties were missing.
Well, what else could it be? To give up and resign to it was all that I could do. My son and I were hundreds of miles apart anyway so I felt it was safe to just dismiss his fetish as just an ingredient of his maturing manhood. He was a healthy young man after all who, like many others, would soon overcome a vile obsession for his mother and her traces.
The discovery not unlike before made me involuntarily react in a sexual way. My pussy suddenly quivered and the nastiest thought passed through my head. I exhaled a deep sigh and closed my eyes bracing myself for the inevitable. And that was to please my body’s sensual stirring.
Vivid thoughts of my son jerking off in my unwashed clothes were flashing into my mind. Before I could think twice or start counting numbers, I had thrown my sensuous self in my bed and started to touch myself in the most obscene way.
I arched my back as my mind conjured up the lewd image of me and my son masturbating together in my bed without the other knowing it, under the same sheet, side by side on our backs, our hips and legs bumping and jerking while quietly moaning each other’s names. With head thrown back and slobbering mouth wide open, I made a sweeping, stirring motion with my finger inside my pussy, round and round until I couldn’t stand it any more.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” breathing out the screams.
When I came my thumb touched the rounded end to my clitoris causing my ass to leap up off the bed in excruciating pleasure, ass cheeks tensing with each powerful tremor that roared through my cunt. My muscles twitched and fluttered, thighs rippling tightly as the sensation mounted to unbelievable intensity.
It was almost a minute of body spasms in the air before my muscles relaxed, dropping my still shaking ass back into the bed, my neck tilted as if catching my breath over my head. Ohh, it was such a riotous but wonderful session.
* * *
A sexual lull in me followed since then making me think that a mother’s sexual reaction to her son’s fetish was a one time thing. I was wrong.
For many months our son kept in touch with us through emails alone. He worked for a wireless telecom firm as a technician and planned to go to college while keeping his “good-paying job.” If we were to believe his stories it would seem that he was living alone quite comfortably.
It had been quite a time since memories of my son’s fetish gripped my sexuality. Now, the lurid thoughts were again forcing their way into my cranium causing me to unconsciously wet my panties beneath my dress.
Without bothering to resist the thoughts, I threw my ass into the couch, the same living room couch where my son and I first made romance. As I closed my eyes and started to masturbate to finish off the mounting itch in my loins, the feeling of guilt intervened causing me to stop right in the tracks.
What’s happening to me? I scolded mentally. All of a sudden I found myself caught between not wanting to imagine my boy jerking off in my night clothing and the powerful erotic images of him as exactly that.
It was easy for anyone to ridicule my pretense. My body after all was just longing for a release, for a harmless self-gratification by shedding myself of those lurid thoughts. Who would not laugh reading me portray myself as virtuous in the light of what had already transpired?
I walked around the house then up to my bedroom trying to douse the simmering sexual heat gripping my body. I walked around gazing at my bed, the same bed I had shared with my husband through thick and thin in two decades of marriage. Two separate parts of me were in a serious struggle. The sensuous part screamed for an uninhibited sexual release. tuzla escort bayan The rational part was waving the equally powerful feeling of guilt. The former seemed to be winning.
Not here in my husband’s bed, I thought at last as the sensuous part of me overflowed with lust leaving no more room for hypocrisy. I stripped naked almost ripping my dress off my shaking body, rushed to my dresser and grabbed my pink housecoat, the same lingerie that my son and I had alternately masturbated with at the heights of suppressed sexual desires for each other. Wrapping it around my naked body I dashed hurriedly to my son’s former bedroom with legs trembling beneath me.
Once inside the room, I closed the door tightly, leaned against it and heaved a long, hot sigh of passion as I recalled those moments when albert was lustfully filling and fulfilling his mother sexually. I clasped at my long robe, fitting it tightly into my body, feeling the traces of sex that my son and I had strewn on it. My hands roamed all over my robed body pressing the silk harder into my skin.
My clitoris was hammering one lustful throb after another when the three-way extended phone sounded a jolting ring. Instantly I was hurled back to my senses. The erotic heat in my body that was reaching fever-pitch suddenly froze as I walked to pick up the receiver.
I had no way of knowing if it was the devil’s handiwork or whatever but what followed was a pleasant shock. My heart almost leapt out of my chest when I recognized Albert’s voice on the other end of the line. My body shuddered from a mixture of emotions. For the first time in many months, in fact in almost a year, I heard the sultry voice of my son and at a time when I was about to touch myself with erotic thoughts of him. My trembling ass slowly but surely fell into his bed as I uttered the second “hello” in a quavering voice.
“You okay, Mom?”
I could only answer him with my breathing. Shock wouldn’t let the words come out of my mouth.
“Are you all right?” he once more asked.
“You don’t sound to be, Mom.”
“…Yesss… I am. Just got surprised. I thought it was your dad…” my breathing was labored.
“You sound tired and exhausted.”
“…Not really…” I was literally exhaling the words.
“…I miss you.”
There was a long pause. We were quiet but both breathing hard. We were hundreds of miles apart but our hormones were heating up in synchronism.
“Have I said something wrong?” he softly asked.
“Nohhh…” I whispered back. “I just… didn’t expect to hear from you at a time like this when…”
“Nnnone…nothing…” following it with a long sigh.
“I need to see you, Mom.”
“Well…you are always welcome to come home for a visit.”
“I need to see you alone,” he murmured softly. A moment of pause once more followed.
“Do you miss me?”
I contemplated replying with an unflattering remark in my desire to douse the simmering sexual heat on line. But I just couldn’t lie.
“Oooohhh…God, yesss, I miss you too…”
“Let’s meet somewhere…some place where we don’t need to fear anyone or anything.”
“Honey, you know it isn’t easy, don’t you?”
“I know, Mom. I know it isn’t easy to do. But I need you badly…need to see you…just you.”
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I wanted to squelch the sounds of my hard breathing but just couldn’t.
“Nothing…oh, nothing! I was just talking to myself.”
Another long pause and soon I was on my back, centered on my son’s bed, my long robe open down the front as we carried on talking in soft voices over the phone. His masculine voice continued to whisper erotic sounds, causing the sexual heat in my body to fume.
My breathing was now coming in swift, forceful gasps. Tiny moans of passion escaped from between my tightly clenched teeth. I was sure he was lying on his bed, jerking off in my nightgown, stroking his rock-hard penis against the fabric of my dress while my simmering body was feeling the sensual touch of the love clothing we both had fucked in sexual abandon.
I worked my fingers into my madly pulsating pussy. I spread my legs wide and arched my back off the bed again and again, laboring toward the climax that seemed so vital to me then. My free hand flew itself into my breasts brushing across my hot nipples, kneading the hills, violently pushing at the tingling flesh. We carried on trading throaty whispers.
“I’m so hot for you…so searing hot.”
“We shouldn’t…be doing this. We need to …”
“I can feel your body heat…I’m in your nightgown. I can feel you…I can smell you,”
“I love you, Mom…”
“Honey…we can’t…let’s just…”
“Let’s make love.”
“Let’s come together, Mom…now…nowww…uuuhhhhhhh…”
My escort tuzla fingers flew down and rubbed my clit furiously with the knuckle of my right thumb. Immediately it sent me into convulsive, loud thrashing motions, squirming and twisting on my son’s bed.
“Mom…you’re so hot…”
“Ohhhh, yesss, honey… I’m on fire … this is wrong but I’m on fire, I love it, love it and I can’t stop, I don’t want to stopppp …”
I was breathing out the screams as I bucked around wildly in my son’s former bed, listening to similar sexual noises from the other end of the line.
I no longer tried to muffle my heated gasps or to control my movements. I fucked myself with wilder abandon. As my senses reached their crescendo I let all inhibitions go, and cried out in moans of pure delight wetting my robe with sex juices which was then open with flaps hanging loosely on my sides.
I came, he came, I came, both hissing great sobs and muttering almost inaudible words until we were sure we were completely sated.
The phone line fell silent but for deep breathings from both ends. Gone were the incoherent words and discrete sounds of ecstasy. We lay on our beds with phone receivers still planted on our ears, just breathing and sighing.
It was a long moment of wordless relishing before my son broke it.
“You’re such a sexy mother.”
“Let’s meet in Frisco.” I’ll wait for you at the Golden Gate park tomorrow.”
“You love me?”
“Ohh God…you know that I do.”
“I’ll be waiting for you there…” he breathed over the phone. I didn’t commit but neither did I reject it.
The next day, a Friday afternoon, I found myself on the road. With dark glasses and dressed up all pretty like in a flowered pastel pattern summer dress, I drove my car, criss-crossing the roads leading to California’s Highway 101. While driving I kept asking myself what the hell was I doing. My God, I was driving a hundred miles to commit a sin!
As I turned and merged with CA-101 heading South a female voice in my GPS announced I was 55 miles to my destination. My mind was teasing me. I was just halfway to San Francisco, I thought. I could still very much turn around and head back home. But my car would not allow it. It continued to move on its path without regard to my confused mind.
Driving on I passed the towns of Sta Rosa, Petaluma and San Rafael. I could already see the slopes of Mt. Tamalpais, signalling that I was already at Marin County. It didn’t escape me that I needed to make a decision now for in just a few more miles my car would be approaching the toll entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge, the point of no return. I thought of it to be because the next possible turn around would be at the other end of the strait, exactly where my son was waiting for me. To turn around at that point would only be for the insane.
“Proceed to cross the Golden Gate Bridge to your destination,” the lady in the GPS announced.
My heart pounded to a scary beat. I could no longer turn around I thought to myself. Nonetheless, my car slowed down as I honestly hoped to change my mind at the last minute. I feared, however, that it was hopeless as I could no longer exit from the freeway before my destination.
Because I was using a FasTrak, I realized a bit too late that I was atop on one of the world’s most photographed landmarks, the Golden Gate Bridge, an assembly of suspended steel and concrete where suicides for whatever reasons are committed once every two weeks. It played in my mind that I’d probably be the next.
“Approaching destination in two miles,” blared the GPS, jolting me from my trance.
I heaved a long sigh not of relief from a tough hundred mile drive but of aimless anxiety from the sin I was about to commit.
“You have arrived,” the female voice finally announced in a husky voice.
The happy faces of people were all around the park. Happily married couples from as far as other states had their teen-aged children in tow coming down from the much talked about bridge after crossing it by foot. I felt happy for them but my wish sent me almost to the verge of tears for reasons I didn’t accurately know. Somehow I managed to relax my confused mind inside my parked car for quite sometime before the passenger side flew open. It was Albert, my son and my date.
“Wow! If not of the car’s plate I would have thought it was a younger Kim Basinger.”
He kissed my right cheek and after the casual greetings, laughter and more flatteries we decided to use his car. I almost failed to recognize him. He had grown taller, looked heavier and more handsome than ever. “This young man could lure to bed the sexiest girl in town,” I quietly told myself.
I made sure I took my personal stuff with me before jumping into his car. We cruised the streets towards the city center and before long the car was pulling up along the front lawn of a plush hotel, not far from the Embarcadero.
As the car came to a stop, the valet opened the door for me to alight. The valet took care of parking the car that left us free to go straight through to the hotel’s outlets.