Annie's Indiscretion

"You said you didn't want me to go," he said huskily. His fingers trailed down my flat stomach.

I knit my brow in anger. He pulled my head roughly until his lips were in my ear. I was still in his lap and I still didn't know which of us was incessantly grinding. "Kiss me," he said.

"No..." He pulled my face to him and slipped his warm, wet tongue over my bottom lip. "Ah..." I moaned, allowing his tongue to slide into my mouth, allowing it to enter me. He slid his fingers back up, bringing the t-shirt with it. My thick bra came, too. It bunched up against my clavicle.

"Christ, Annie, you're so beautiful."

My lips fluttered against his mouth as I spoke. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

I was bare breasted in front of him. I wanted his hands on me so badly I was shaking. "We can stop..." I said. He held my t-shirt and bra against my neck. My heavy breasts shivered in the cold air. My nipples pointed straight at him, pink and stiff. I was naked from the waist up, held by my daughter's husband, shivering from nerves and arousal and the chill, my skin trembling over my muscles, my eyes seeking him, trying to capture him. "I said no." I said it weakly. Too weakly.

He pulled me towards him, popping my nipple into his mouth and sucking on it hard. I cried out. Those were the nipples I'd nursed Carly with! And now her husband was licking them, tasting them, savoring them as if he owned them. He leaned back, and with one arm holding me down he pulled the shirt and bra off my head. I rose up, but it took practically nothing for him to rise with me, grab me by the ass and pin me back into his lap. I fell on his erection hard and he reached to cup my heavy breasts. He sucked at me, his tongue swirling around my nipple, his teeth teasing it. My fingers slithered over his shoulders, pricking his muscles with my nails. I rubbed against his penis with my panties (which were far from dry). I pushed my breast into his mouth and gave him the other to squeeze, and I masturbated him with my vagina.

"Everyone's coming home," I heard myself whisper.

"No," he groaned. I watched him suck at my nipple, watched him lick the dark areola. Between my legs I grew wetter. I pulled his face away and he grabbed my hands, pulling me to him to kissed my mouth. He wrapped his hands over my tits possessively.

Then he reached for the hem of his sweater. He pulled away as he did so, and I gasped at his muscular chest, because it was suddenly our skin that was touching. He threw his sweater onto my bra and husband's t-shirt. Our stomachs met and tingled against each other and he hugged me hard. My naked breasts squashed against his chest hair. "I want you," he breathed.

That was a grand understatement. He pushed me back, my hands still on his shoulders, his hands squeezing my hips. We gyrated against each other.

"We have to stop," I said. My vagina was leaking. My womb was hungry for him. But it was wrong and I was desperately trying to quell the pulsating tension that made me open my legs wider.

I put my feet on the floor. I rose off of him and he reached to undo my skirt. I didn't fight him. Then I did. I batted his hand away, again, again and again, until he finally rose and pushed me back. I never thought I would be here, never thought I would be alone in my house with my son-in-law, never in my most private imaginings have expected to be practically naked in front of him and see his dick tenting in his jeans and want to know if he planned to show it to me.

There was a brief struggle. I was more trying to keep him at arm's length, but he came forward, tall and bare chested, and wrapped his arms around me. I tried, I tried so hard to convince myself I wasn't making him chase me. He grabbed me. He turned me. Then I was pressed against the kitchen table.

The smell of the oven and its gusts of warmth blew past us in the chilly house. Behind me Michael softly dragged his fingertips down my arms. I remained where I was, legs planted apart, my palms flat on the table. He planted a thick kiss on my neck, beneath my jaw. This wasn't me, I kept telling myself. This wasn't who I was. I was a good mother, a good wife...

Behind me, I felt him working his belt. Its metal whipped out and struck me coldly, then it was gone, and I heard his pants descend, and I felt his boxers brush the fabric of my skirt. He managed to step out of them and tug apart my skirt in one motion. And suddenly his meaty cock was pressed against my left buttock.

"Oh..." I said. I heard it like it came from somewhere else. It rumbled up from inside me, and it rumbled again when Michael laid hands on himself and began to roll it against the tight skin of my ass. My whole body shook. Uncontrollably, from my tight calves to my jiggling upper thighs, to my pendulous breasts, which he reached around me to squeeze.

He pushed it into me and it went up flat against my back. His mouth kissed my ear so tenderly I let out a soft cry of longing. Then he was whispering to me. "I wanted you from the moment I saw you." His warm hands cradled my breasts.

I could barely stand. I was shivering, shaking, I could no longer feel the cold. I felt my son-in-law's hard cock in my lower back and felt his hot need pouring out of it, his sticky pre-cum lathering my skin. He'd stripped me. He'd pushed me. He'd kissed me. Between my legs, I was flowing.

"I wanted to take your hand," he whispered into my ear, kissing it so softly. He gently slid his cock up my back, squeezing my breasts and rubbing my nipples with his deft fingertips. "I wanted to make love to you on your husband's bed."

My knees turned to jelly and I would have fallen unless Mike were there to push me into the table. Oh, Charles, I'm so sorry... I knew then that if I screamed, if I pushed him away, if I moved, Mike would leave and never come back. And yet...his fingers on the soft skin underneath my breasts. The way his cock slid down my round buttocks The way his breath softly penetrated my ear canal. I knew, more than I had ever known in my life, how badly a man wanted me. And God help me...

"Mike," I said so softly the rain nearly covered it up. "Honey, I..."

His hands gripped my hips and pulled me into him. His dick slipped into the plush seal of my crack. "Do you want this to happen?" he said.

"I..." Could we go back to the way things were, now? Had he really always wanted this? Had he always held it in check, loyal to Carly? Was all it took for the dam to break her cheating on him? Before I could answer his hands snaked down from my hips and sifted into my panties. I let out a sharp gasp as he touched me, touched my clit. He went deep into the hood and retrieved it, and began to roll it up and down. I pinned my knees together reflexively. Sometimes I wondered if Charles even knew where it was.

His other hand trailed up my shivering skin, to my bellybutton. "I want to fuck you," he said. My legs nearly gave out. "I want to fuck you right now, Annie. I want to take you here, now." His dick squeezed between my thighs. "Are you going to stop me?"

I felt it pushing, pushing. It was thick, and engorged. The sweat in the humid center of my body was already dripping to the floor. Mike pulled my panties from between my wet labia. "Are you?" he said.

"Yes..." I whispered, as he bent me forward. "Yes..." I had never been taken this way before. I felt exposed. A thick sob suddenly burst from me. "No!" I said. "No, I won't."

Michael reached around and pulled my face to him. My body stretched against his as he pulled me around. Then we were face to face and his lips were on mine, his penis pressed to the tensing muscles of my belly. Michael took me in his strong arms and kissed my mouth, my eyes, my nose.

"I love you," he said.

"I..." I did love him, and I didn't love him in the way that Carly loved him or a woman who was married to him would love him. But now, right now, I just... "I don't want to think," I said, in the barest, plainest moment of my life. I was hot and bothered, and he was stiff, hurt, and strong. His mouth was once more on mine and I let him lift me up onto the table.

He held me up like I weighed nothing at all. Had I known that he was that strong? The table felt freezing to my bare bottom. He parted my legs wider, opening me with his fingers. He pulled my panties to the side. Then his fingers, lightly, shaking, trailed down my labia.

A finger slipped in me. Every muscle in my lap seized up. "I never would have told you," he whispered in my ear. My breath caught in my throat as Mike's finger slid up to his big knuckle. I had to grab his arms to keep from screaming. "If Carly and I were married, I never would have told you Annie, that I thought about you... I promise." Another finger squeezed into my dribbling pussy. "How kind you are..." His mouth was on my mouth. I could smell him. I could smell his breath, his scent! "How beautiful. Given half a chance, if I was another man." He reached for my pussy with his other hand and softly opened me.

I watched his beautiful cock glide forward. I watched the tip of his penis part my pussy lips. As it entered me I turned to stare up at the ceiling and asked someone to forgive me. Would he cum in me? Would he make me cum? His penis slid up into the warm, tight recesses of my vagina. And I screamed like I hadn't since I was a teenager.

Mike's cock entered me and didn't stop sliding until he was buried to his balls. We were joined, utterly, and irreversibly, and as evil as I felt for it, the thrust of his unrelenting thickness between my legs made me wetter and hotter than a married woman has any right to feel. My breasts squashed against his chest and he kissed down my shoulders to savor every drop of sweat I shed for him. He pulled out, nearly all the way, and pushed himself back in. I screamed again. And I knew that's where he took half his pleasure.

"Is this what you imagined?" he groaned into my mouth. "When you looked at me that first night we met?"

"Oh, God," I groaned. I couldn't keep my hands out of his hair. I never imagined this boy kissing me, touching me, fondling me...on top of me...fucking me on my kitchen table. I had always been so good, always did the right thing. And Mike's cock, filling me, entering me, penetrating me, making me...that felt so right, and it was not. It was so very far from the right thing but I couldn't stop myself from wrapping my knees around him and leaning back. His hands slipped down to my waist to hold me at an angle while he fucked me. He fucked me, hard, but with a rolling rhythm, an insistent push and play that sent every sparking nerve in my vagina up into a full conflagration.

I wanted to tell him to stay with Carly. That's why I was doing this, to let him get his revenge if that's what he wanted, to sleep with another female. If it had to be me, so be it. Maybe sometime in his lap I had conceived that's what I'd do, but how true was that? I really didn't know. I reached down between his legs and fondled his balls. He liked that. He lifted his young face and closed his eyes, entering me harder, given over to bliss. I leaned into him and pushed my mouth onto his. He pushed up inside me. "Let it out," I said. "Use me if you have to but go back to C..." I couldn't finish my sentence. He thrust his dick higher. "Ah! Please-"

"Please what?" he asked.

"Sl-slower..." I moaned, even as I ground my pussy down on him. I kissed him with the depths of myself, the dark and hot pool of desire, bubbling up from submerged places. I melted over him and loved his hands on my breasts, his mouth on my shoulder and neck, the way he licked up my throat to my chin, and kissed me, and rocked me, and pulled his penis out. And up. And out.

I raised myself up on the table. He thrust up as I sank down.

"Oh, God, honey."

He was inside me. Michael was fucking me. His naked cock was rubbing the inner lips of my vagina and I was riding him eagerly, desperately. I hadn't been on the pill in years and it occurred to me that our sexual fluids were mixing recklessly. If Michael's seed spilled inside of me I could be conceiving Carly's brother tonight. And God help me... His young cock was so unlike my husband's. It had a life and drive of its own; it thrust open my pussy forcefully, as if every time it retreated merited another passionate return. I leaned back, he held me. I leaned back to face the ceiling and smelled the oven, and the cold emptiness of the house. The heavy rain pounded the asphalt of the patio and I held Michael's hips with my thighs and let him enter me, inhabit me, take me. His cum leaked into my vagina.

The movement was a blur. He slid me off the table with ease, his liquid muscles, his certain hands. When his cock left me I felt empty. He forced me up, forced me against the table. He pulled my panties down roughly and cast them aside, then I spread my legs for him and braced myself as he pushed in from behind. "Yes," I said. "God, let it all go, honey. Fuck me..." He grabbed my hair and shoved forward. He bent me over. He plunged harder. I screamed.

"You'll - unh, talk to Carly," I stuttered.

"Yes, Annie."

He pulled my hair harder, bent me lower. It was demeaning, it was needful. And I'd never been fucked that way before.

His lips brushed my ear. "You're mine."

"Yes," I said. I shouldn't have said it, don't know why I said it, but in me, hands gliding up to play with my nipples, I wanted it to be true, wanted him to feel strong, as strong as I knew he was, wanted his cock to never leave. Had Carly felt this way? Had he made love to her just like this? How could she ever leave him? Ever stray? The thought suddenly made me so angry I cried loudly at his next thrust.

He stopped abruptly. He pulled out and turned me to face him, his fingers taking my shoulder gently in hand. I was able to turn well enough, but I fell back against the table, my naked ass on the edge. He saw the tears in my eyes and wiped them away. "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

He gathered me up in his arms. I felt myself shivering in his embrace, my breasts against him, the breasts that had swollen for my children, the breasts that were not as young as Carly's, that had the light stretch marks to prove it. And yet every inch of my skin was his and he held every part of me like I was a delicate work of art. "I'm sorry," he said, kissing the streams of my tears, my cheeks.

"I don't understand," I managed to choke out. I felt his cock, hot and stiff, press into my hip when he held me tighter. "I don't understand you, or her, or me," I said.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked.

"Does it matter now?" I asked.

He took my hand. "Yes. Annie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kissed my hand, kissed my fingers. I looked at my apron and skirt on the floor, realized I was naked in my own kitchen with my daughter's husband's cock sticking into my belly and my juices trickling down my leg. I watched him kiss my fingertips and wanted to hold him so badly just then. I reached for his face and brought it close to me, so close we couldn't see each other, so close that we had to kiss to keep our mouths from biting through. And as I held his ears his hands softly made their way down my back, and cupped my buttocks, and brought me into him. "Do you want this?" he asked.

"Yes," I said between kisses. "Yes, yes, stop making me say it." He dipped low, even as I was kissing him, and slid his hand under my knees. He braced me with the other and scooped me up, actually lifted me up into his arms. I hooked my arms around his neck and he carried me easily through the living room and up the stairs. I kissed his neck and rubbed my lips against his ear, wanting to consume him, his vitality and earnestness, his honesty, his strength. I'd had his penis, my daughter's husband's, and all I could think of was him inside me again.

He dropped me on my bed, my marriage bed. Charles and I had slept here uncounted times while he and Carly shared her room. Now he stood naked before me, proud cock swaying away from his body. I was lost. I was utterly lost.

He joined me on the bed, and for a time we simply held each other, soft kisses exchanged on top of the comforter, him a bolt of warm iron on my thigh, my lips dripping sweat. After I felt the heat inside me build to a near unbearable level he reached down and opened me once more with his fingers. I moistened copiously, hearing myself moan for him as if I were rooms away, hearing the need build as his exploration deepened.

I reached blindly for his cock but he batted me away, and slowly, taking as much time as his hungry mouth would allow, he kissed and sucked down my chest, my breasts, my taut stomach, down to my bush, until he was kneeled at the edge of the bed and eating my pussy like a ravenous wolf. I clutched at his hair between my legs and let out another scream, one more of the many this young man had pulled from my lungs and body. My thighs wriggled against his ears and he grabbed my buttocks. His fingers dug into my skin and his tongue went deep between my folds, slathering my sticky bush. I felt his lips kiss and suck me. Then his fingers pried me open and he went deeper still. I try not to picture what I looked like in that moment, because if there was any control left to me by that point Michael swallowed it whole. He made me curse; he made me hiss; he made me cum.

And part of that orgasm, that first climax, was knowing that his hard cock was still beneath me, still standing straight and deep red below the mattress, waiting to enter me again, and waiting to fill me.

It got to the point where I wouldn't allow him to feed on me like that anymore. I shoved my pelvis into his face. He fell back, surprised, to the floor. And I slid on a trail of sweat down, down to the floor, following after him. I was so wet. His cock was so wet. He held it under me and suddenly he was fitting it inside of me. When he slid in we shuddered together and squeezed against each other's bodies. I'd seldom been on top, and in these last few years I was too self-conscious to try. But he wanted me that way, wanted me on top of him. His penis curved inside me and spread my lips apart. I was straddling my daughter's husband, his big cock inside me and his fingers stroking my cheeks as I winced and tried to work his shaft the rest of the way inside.

My knees dug into the carpet and I rode him. I rode him hard, the way I thought Carly might, the way I wanted to, the way I knew he needed me to.

I could look down at him as he scooped my breasts into his palms and licked them, suckled at them. His eyes rose to met mine, and they were passionate, hungry, horny. I soaked his pubic hair with my dripping pussy and shoved myself over him. When his hands touched my hair my eyelids fluttered and I felt his pelvis work, begin to pump.

He softly bent me back. I kept my hands on his shoulders and he lightly drew me away from his chest, my face up to the ceiling. "Just like this," he said. "I want you just like this." The boy knew what he wanted.

"Do it," I said. "Do it, baby. Do it."

He touched my cheek. "Can I?"

I brought my face from the ceiling. I clutched at him, so tightly. I pressed my body to his as he thrust harder, harder. Our eyes locked, I let him see what he was doing to me, let him see the terror and satisfaction in my eyes. "Yes, baby. I want you to, honey. Please." I was going to give him everything. I could feel his dick stiffening inside of me. His grip on my wrists loosened so I pulled my arms over his back. "Let it out, honey. Let it all out." I gasped as his hips thrust with renewed vigor. "I've cum so many times." It was the awful truth.

"I love you," he said. His penis jerked and I felt the first spurt of his cum.

I felt it. I felt everything. I felt him burst and his thick jism whip inside my vaginal walls. Our mutual fluids mixed and squelched and he continued to fuck me on my bedroom floor, all the while emptying his balls of his sperm, giving me what was Carly's by right. But I took it. I wanted him inside me, as deep inside me as he could squirt. He groaned into my mouth, my red lips his for the tasting, my tongue his to suck. He thrust up, higher and higher into my lap, and I came again, came harder, longer than before, and we finished each other there against the bed, rubbing each other raw, guilty as sin, crazy, needful...