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Subject: Title story: "My Mother-Out-Law" Author: INCEST MAN 60039302
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Date: Mon, 21 Nov 2005 02:01:57 +0000
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My Mother-Out-Law By Big Timber It was early on a Wednesday morning after my
wife had gone to work. I got out of bed, wearing only a t-shirt, and headed into
the laundry room to get some shorts. I would have to dress before going upstairs
to the kitchen for coffee. My Mother-in-Law had spent the night, and I expected
her to be at the table, already buzzing with coffee and late-breaking news. She
had stayed up late with Janet and I, drinking and talking. With her years of
experience as a foreign correspondent for a major cable network, she had plenty
of juicy stories to tell, lots of behind the scenes dish. As the evening wore on
and Janet dozed on the couch, Ronni's jokes and antecdotes grew more risque.
Long after taking my wife to bed, my mind was filled with images of my Mother-in-
Law, walking in on blow jobs in congressional offices, being hit on by
ambassadors from Africa, wild and insane situations that most everyday people
would never believe could happen. But they happened to Ronni. Ronni was not
beautiful. However, her rather plain face was smooth and taught, in spite of her
fifty plus years, and she was quite fetching when fully made up, always dressed
impeccably in the latest business fashions. She had once been quite large in the
bust, and still given to wearing low-cut, revealing blouses. She seemed to
prefer midlength skirts, unbuttoned from the hem at one side. When she sat,
puffing a cigarette and crossing her well-formed legs, one couldn't help but be
taken in by her mature, womanly allure. I found myself thinking of her as I
squatted, naked from the waist down to reach into the dryer. I looked up. She
was standing in the doorway of the laundry room, coffee cup in hand. When our
eyes met, she quickly turned her head. "Ooh," she said, "excuse me." "It's
alright," I responded, pulling my t-shirt down over my genitals. I expected her
to leave the room, but she didn't. She kept her head turned slightly to the
side, and proceeded to explain that she'd left some of her things on top of the
washer. "Do you see them?" she asked, innocently enough. She had an odd smile on
her face as she made a show of looking away from me. I felt myself growing stiff
as I stood up, still clutching the hem of my rather short T-shirt. There was an
incredible sexual tension in the air. After all, she was my mother-in-law. She
wasn't supposed to see my penis. I couldn't lie to myself, though. I wanted her
to see it, to look at it, to want it. Nervous to the point of trembling, I
reached for the neatly folded stack of silk and lace underthings on the washer.
She turned her eyes toward me, fixing me with her stare, then looked down
deliberately as my erection came into view. I handed them to her as my pole
bobbed uncontrollably from beneath my shirt. She took the underwear with one
hand, threw it back on the washer, and looking cooly into my eyes, reached
nonchalantly for my penis with the other. She touched the head with her thumb,
lightly tracing the groove on its underside with her forefinger. Tapping it
playfully, she smiled, "You'd better find someplace to put this." I shuddered
involuntarily. I looked down to see a clear droplet of precome ooze from the
slit of my cock. Ronni looked down, smiled secretively, and spread the
crystalline gel over the flaring head with her manicured pinky. "You've got a
pretty weiny," she crooned as she toyed with me me. Collaring the stiffening
shaft with her fingers, she pulled my scarce foreskin back and forth. Out of
control, I began to thrust my hips, coming in short, quick spurts as she
squeezed and stroked, laughing coarsely but softly at my spontaneous, obviously
premature reaction. I shot all over her pajama bottoms and fat thighs as she
stood, one hand cupping my swolen testicles, the other hand alternately teasing
with her fingetips and milking me with a rythmic stroke of her fisted hand. She
looked up into my eyes as she worked, smiling that odd smile, grunting softly as
she squeezed, running her grip along the length of my member, forcing thick jets
of clabor through my peehole. Come spattered loudly on her legs, trickling down
her strong shapely calves. Her knees worked back and forth. In the space of a
few seconds, she looked suddenly distressed, as if she needed to pee. Then she'd
smile, as if relief had passed over her. I could tell Ronni liked it. "Now look
what you've done," she said with mock irritation, releasing my prong and staring
at the lathery white mess on her hands and pajamas. "Guess this will need
cleaning, too." She turned her back to me and leaned forward to slip off the
silken boxers. Her large, once perfect bum popped out, she wriggled her full
hips and the cheeks shook. I felt myself spurt again, once, twice. Then, leaning
over the drier, she commanded, "Clean it up, sweetie, clean it good for Ronni."
She reached behind with both hands and opened the crack of her ass for me. I
fell to my knees, lapping like an obedient ...
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