Mother-In-Law helping hand

For the last couple of years I have been having sex with my daughter's husband. It started at a small gathering at my home, just a close family meet-up because the weather was good and everyone happened to have no other plans. It was nothing fancy and people were dressed casually, mostly jeans and comfortable clothing but I have a preference for more formal wear and wore a yellow summer dress with what some might consider a low neckline but nothing immodest. Even though I have crossed fifty I still have a decently trim figure: shapely legs I admit I am proud of, a pronounced rear-end which fits quite nicely into modern tastes that favour more rather than less, and good-sized breasts that aren't as pert as they once were but are still able to catch a man's eye. Not that I go out of my way to appear alluring but I do still enjoy a little harmless attention. After my divorce, I was left feeling bitter and angry and very, very betrayed. Men were not of interest to me and the time passed quickly while I stewed in my own recriminations. Now I feel I somewhat missed the boat since I was still young enough to try again with someone, but I really had no desire to do so at the time. I am at complete peace with a more or less solitary existence, with the people at work and my family more than meeting my needs for a social life, but I do still like it when I occasionally see a man's head turn in my direction, as superficial as that may sound. On that particular Sunday afternoon it was my son-in-law who I caught staring as I bent over to pour one of my grandchildren a drink and all it did was make me smile a little to myself. He is a quiet, polite man who works as a mechanic and loves cars and motorcycles. There is something very masculine about him, the broadness of his shoulders, the thick hair on his arms and chest, but he has a gentleness to him that marks him out from most of the boisterous men in my family and I have never heard him raise his voice to my daughter or to their two young children. He is still a man and men will always glance at a pretty girl or a shapely figure so I can't say I wasn't flattered and I certainly didn't think ill of him. No harm in looking, after all. Later, I needed to get some more paper plates tucked away in a high cupboard in the spare bedroom and he offered to help. We were making pleasant small talk as we went up the stairs, about his oldest's dislike for one of her teachers at school, and I walked into the bedroom without much regard for the sound of the door closing as he entered behind me. As I pointed to the cupboard out of my reach he moved forward but rather than reach up he reached down and slid his hand under the hem of my dress and up the inside of my bare thigh. I was so startled I didn't say anything and then his hand was stroking the cotton front of my underwear while he continued to discuss the problem with teachers these days as though nothing was amiss. I responded by doing the same. As we continued our conversation without any overt reaction to what he was doing, his fingers pulled my underwear to one side and he gently rubbed just above my vulva. The conversation turned to the school system and the lack of funding and I found myself a little short of breath so I was letting him do most of the talking. When his finger slid inside me I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth but couldn't stop a small moan escaping my lips as I started to go from moist to unquestioningly wet. He removed his hand before anything more happened and reached over me to open the cupboard and retrieve the cardboard box while I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. He held the box up and asked me where I wanted it and I smiled and led the way back downstairs. Nothing else was said and we both behaved perfectly normally for the rest of the afternoon. It was obviously a very unusual occurrence but I dealt with it by putting it completely out of my mind and not thinking about it at all. The rest of the party went off without a hitch and people left around early evening, most of them with children who had school the following day, including my daughter and her husband. I gave him a peck on the cheek when they left, as I always do. I had almost convinced myself it had never happened. The doorbell rang about an hour after the last of my guests had left. They had all helped with the tidying up and took most of the leftovers with them so I was just putting a few things away, still refusing to think about it. I answered the door to find it was my daughter's husband, apologising for bothering me but he thought he had left his wallet behind. I invited him in and watched him go up the stairs with a knot in my stomach. I followed him into the main bedroom. He took out his wallet from his back pocket and placed it on the dresser and then turned towards me. He put his hands on my shoulders and spun me around and then unzipped my dress from the back and let it fall to the floor. I let him do this without any resistance. He unclasped my bra and pushed it off my shoulders. I put my arms over my breasts as he turned me around to face him, questioning him with my eyes but saying nothing. He gently shoved me backwards and the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed and I dropped, my hands reaching down to steady myself, my breasts fully exposed. The look in his eyes told me with complete certainty that he was going to fuck me. The slickness between my legs told me with equal certainty that I wasn't going to stop him. We didn't speak. He undid his belt and lowered his fly and released his penis which was fully erect. The size was not particularly intimidating but the unwavering hardness of it made me swallow my saliva and scoot backwards along the bed. He dropped his jeans and slid off his jacket and then grabbed my ankles and dragged me back towards him. I was flat on my back, my breasts sliding around on my chest, threatening to fall into my armpits and I instinctively moved my arms closer to my sides to keep my breasts on top. I wanted him to see them in a favourable light. His mouth descended and swallowed a stiff, pointed nipple and I gasped. His hand reached down and pointed his penis between my legs, used the head to push my underwear to one side and forced it in. There was no foreplay and no hesitation. He was solid in a way I had never encountered before and he plunged into me pushing aside all obstacles with no regard for the laws of man or nature. It was like being impaled on an iron rod. I let out a loud groan and arched my back, pushing my breast further into his mouth like an offering. He began thrusting into me and my legs rose up, knees bent, hips tilting to let him in deeper. I kept my mouth shut, only letting out small squeaks of pleasure as he suckled first one breast then the other. I soon felt him grow bigger inside me. I vaguely remembered the sudden swelling at the moment of release and knew what was coming and found myself tightening in anticipation but he pulled himself out in one smooth motion and climbed over me so he was kneeling over my chest. He reached down and pulled me up by the back of my head while his other hand guided his throbbing penis towards my mouth. I had never done something like what he was expecting of me, not with my husband, but my mouth opened to receive him and my lips closed around his slick shaft as he began to fuck my mouth. It only took a couple of pumps before the telltale twitching told me he was on the verge of climaxing. My hands reached behind him and took him by the buttocks and pushed him deeper in as his semen erupted over my tongue and down my throat. Never had I swallowed a man's jism before but his I gulped down. My eyes drifted up to find his face taut and juddering but his eyes watching intently as I swallowed every drop he squeezed out into me. I kept going, sucking and drinking him in, mindless with passion, and the fading flesh sitting on my tongue reversed course from shrinking to swelling. I soon had to free it as it became too large to hold and he knelt over me, breathing slow hard breaths, fully hard again. I couldn't help but stick out my tongue lick him all the way from the base to the tip and back again, and then I took his balls into my mouth. He watched me and then backed away until he was at my waist. He grabbed me by the hip and flipped me over onto my front. The touch of his palms against my fleshy rump immediately sent a shiver through me and I squirmed with pleasure as he pushed my buttocks away from him. My knees folded under me and my buttocks rose up, available for whatever he required. He spread my cheeks further and drove his cock into me again, his engorged head smashing past my labia once more, gliding in and out, every brush against the walls of my vagina sending out vibrations like a build-up of static charge. I tried to keep my moans quiet but my mouth was locked open and bestial grunts were all I could manage as waves of pleasure cascaded through me. Then he erupted inside me and my eyes rolled back and my forehead creased and I thought my brain might explode. I fell forward onto the bed and he slipped out of me. My gasping breath slowed to a wheeze and I turned my head to see him buckling his belt and reach over and take his wallet from the dresser. He looked over at me with an apologetic smile and waved the wallet and said, "Found it." I looked at him through lank, sweaty hair and nodded. He put his jacket back on and left. I showered and changed into my nightgown, even though it was still quite early, and crawled into bed exhausted. Instead of worrying about what had just happened, I found myself recalling certain feelings and sensations as he'd used me for his pleasure and couldn't help but smile to myself as I touched the sensitive, tender area between my legs and winced. In my mind it was a one-off thing that was better purged than left to fester and now that it was out of his system we would both act like nothing had happened and refuse to acknowledge any wrongdoing on either of our parts. I was confident he would present a completely oblivious face to me and to everyone else and I in turn would do likewise. And when we met again in the course of our social interactions that was exactly what happened. However, his intentions for how our relationship would proceed soon became clear. Every week or two he would visit me on some pretext or other, often made easier by my daughter's concern for me and insistence that her husband be at my beck as call for any repairs or assistance I might need around the house. If I had a jar that needed opening, I was to contact her immediately and she would send him over. And he would come over and be as polite and helpful as ever, only while we chatted his hand would be inside my underwear and he would keep teasing and rubbing until I was no longer able to hold up my end of the conversation, at which point he would fuck me. There would be no conversation while he relentlessly broke me into pieces, moving me around, positioning me in various poses to get better access. And I would accommodate him as best as I could, grinding against him, shaking my hips at the right tempo. When he finished, he would zip up and say some vague farewell, maybe pass on a message from my daughter or invite me to one of the children's music recitals and leave me half-dressed or fully naked, splayed across the settee, hunched over the kitchen table, flat out on the bed, his pearly white semen leaking out of me and a sloppy grin plastered across my face. It might seem that what we were doing was despicable and unconscionable. A betrayal of my daughter and my entire family. But I don't see it that way at all. I remember last year my daughter came to me somewhat distraught and after a little maternal meddling she revealed she was worried about her husband, who had always seemed so steadfast. He was down and moody, she suspected even depressed, and he wouldn't talk to her about it. I soothed her with the usual platitudes but he hadn't visited me for a month or so at the time and I also felt something amiss. A day or so later I called her complaining about a loose shelf that I was worried about falling on my head and she was only too happy to send her resident handyman over. When he arrived he greeted me as polite and well-mannered as ever but he seemed distracted and his eyes were not as warm as they usually were. He held up the toolbox he'd brought with him. I told him the shelf in question was upstairs and led the way. Once we entered the bedroom I pulled the cord holding up my dress, which I had chosen because of this feature, and it fell to the floor revealing me completely nude. No words were exchanged but he dropped the toolbox and proceeded to fall on me like a wild animal sinking its teeth into freshly caught prey. While he had always handled me with a certain roughness, which I enjoyed, never had he treated me quite so aggressively as that day. He pushed me down and took hold of my knees and spread my legs as wide as they would go and sank his face into my vagina. His tongue licked me in one long stroke, passing down over my perineum and then he turned me over and ran his tongue up into my anus. Frantic sounds of his belt buckle slapping around were followed by his zipper being ripped open. My face was in the bed cover and my backside was in the air and the shame and embarrassment of being on full display only heightened my desire so when the head of his penis touched my tight anal sphincter I slid my knees further apart to allow him easier access. Whatever he had pent up inside him he could no longer hold it at bay. His first thrust into my rectum was merciless and irresistible, his rigid unmalleability requiring no clearing of the way. I had never allowed anyone to enter that place but I welcomed him without hesitation. This was no gentle investigation, he hurt me with every powerful thrust and he knew it. It didn't stop him, even when I cried out in pain, he just went faster, building to some moment of complete annihilation. And then I felt him release all his frustration in one final jolt. Not a series of jerks and shudders, just one single shot that went through me like an assassin's bullet, his hands digging into my waist, his hips pressed flush against the backs of my legs. He fell on top of my back and I collapsed under him. His hands slid under my stomach and he squeezed me. Not once had he shown me any affection, never had he kissed me on the mouth. Our joining had always been a physical act of need and pleasure and exorcism, but in that moment I felt his genuine gratitude and that was enough. He rose and sloshed out of me and I knew there would be soreness and probably bruising in the morning. I can't say I found the sensation of that act enjoyable but the urgency with which he had wanted me was thrilling. And the relief I saw on his face now that he had rid himself of whatever demons plagued him, left me elated. Neither of us said a word. He left the room and I heard running water in the bathroom. When he returned, I had dressed and tidied myself up, although I suspect I still looked like a woman who had just been savagely fucked. I smiled at him and thanked him for fixing the shelf. He nodded and told me he was worried about work. They were restructuring and he was afraid he might be out of a job. He had a young family to take care of and things were looking bleak. It was such a boyish thing to worry about, that he might not be worth loving if he couldn't offer something in exchange. I walked over to him and put my arms around him and spoke into his ear as I held him. I told him I would help him in any way I could, in whatever way he needed. I had money left over from my husband's passing that he had left me instead of his second wife for some reason (most likely out of guilt) which I hadn't touched (most likely for the same reason) and he would have time to find another job and no one would need to know. I felt the tension leave him and he rested his head on my shoulder for a second or two. Too proud to accept help from anyone else but never too proud in front of me. He thanked me and left and a day later my daughter called me in high spirits, telling me she had overreacted and her husband was over the slump, back to being Old Reliable and steadfast as ever. In the end, he kept his job and life continued as though there had never been a bump in the road. He had merely fallen asleep at the wheel and all he needed was someone to nudge him awake. He still visits me occasionally but not as often as he used to. We're both getting older so it's not surprising. Nobody who sees us together would guess there was ever anything between us, and that's because there never was.

well

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