Mr. Thomas stared at me openly, his eyes following the movements of my fingers in my pussy. As I pushed them further inside my dripping hole, he gripped his cock harder, jerking himself faster and faster.
"Such a dirty little slut!" he panted, "You're such a fucking slut!"
I came awake shivering. The sheets of the sofa bed were tangled around my legs, and a huge knot had gathered between them in the night, a knot that was now painfully pressed tight to my aching cunt. I'd had dreams like this before, but this was by far the worst. I shut my eyes against the memory, but I was immediately assailed by images of my father-in-law's dripping cockhead. Though I'd never seen it in reality, I was desperately familiar with every vein, every swollen inch of Mr. Thomas' member. After all, it had been the subject of a series of deliciously vivid dreams, ever since we had come to his parents' to visit.
I rolled over, searching for my husband, only to remember that he was upstairs in his bedroom, too far away to comfort my pussy. Ridiculous as the rule was, whenever Jake and I stayed at his parent's place, we were never allowed to sleep together—even after two years of marriage! I had long known that the Thomases despised me, but separating a married couple was a bit much, even in a house where everyone gathered around the radio for Rush Limbaugh everyday.
I did not fit into the family, to be certain. At my miniscule 5'4, even Jake's mother towered over me, and my honey blonde hair stuck out like a sore thumb at raven-haired family gatherings. While all the women of the Thomas clan were built like pristine supermodels, I was practically born wearing a corset, with 36 D breasts and a large, shapely ass framing a petite waist. On top of that, I am covered in colorful tattoos and my large, pink nipples are pierced.
Though Jake fell head over heels for me while we were attending the same university, his family had always been cold and distant, with his father being by far the most reticent. Mr. Thomas was a bear of a man, with a full, dark beard straight out of a Just for Men ad. His eyes, which had none of the tenderness of his son's, were ice blue. Honestly, the man had "top" written all over him, from his sneering smile to the look of disapproval he always wore. I'd have immediately found him sexy if it weren't for the fact that I was married to his son.
I pulled on my robe and stumbled up the basement steps in search of coffee, trying to put the dream from my mind. On the way to the kitchen, I passed the hall bathroom and decided to make a stop there first. Pushing the door open, I unexpectedly came in contact with someone on the other side. To my great embarrassment, there stood none other than the subject of my naughty dreams.
I quickly mumbled my apologies and shut the door, but not before I caught sight of what Mr. Thomas was doing. With one hand leaning on the wall, he was furiously jerking off into the toilet, a dirty magazine spread before him on the back of the tank. So involved was he in the activity that he barely even acknowledged my interruption.
In the kitchen, I put the coffee on and the sat at the table ostensibly waiting for it to brew, but in reality, I was in a daze. I couldn't get the image of his big fingers manipulating his bigger cock out of my head. Those few seconds I had witnessed replayed in my head over and over, and I felt my pussy tensing, aching to be filled with him. I nearly screamed when he walked into the kitchen a few minutes later.
"G-good morning, Mr. Thomas," I stuttered, praying that I wasn't as blushed as I felt.
"Kitty," he intoned, seeming to savor the sexual innuendo in my name as much as I do. "Kitty, we should have a talk, you and I."
"Yes sir?" I replied, suddenly very aware of how naked I was beneath my robe. I wondered if he could smell my pussy from where he stood.
"What did you see, just now? When you so rudely came barging into an occupied restroom?" The tone of his voice was dangerously low, as if challenging me to tell the truth, that the door was ajar.
"Well, I came upon you, umm, relieving yourself, sir." I squirmed in my chair.
"Relieving myself? How so? Was I pissing, Kitty?" I was shocked at the crudity, something I'd never heard from him before.
"Well, I didn't see anything, really, sir. I mean, it all happened so quickly—"
He grabbed my hand then, so suddenly that I squealed, and he pulled me up from my seat and placed his other hand over my mouth.
"No! I'll have no screaming from you!" He smiled wolfishly. "Well, not right now at least." I felt my legs go weak as a thin rivulet of pussy juice streamed down my inner thigh.
"What do you mean, sir?" I asked, breathless. He ignored my question.
"Now, I asked you if you had witnessed me urinating when you interrupted me in the bathroom. Is that what you saw, Kitty?"
"No, sir," I tried to look away, but he clamped his fingers around my jaw, preventing it.
"What did you see?"
"I, umm, saw you, you know. I saw you, umm, masturbating." By the end of that sentence, I was whispering. The mere presence of this man had reduced me, a sexually mature 21-year-old woman that had fucked complete strangers without blushing, into a stammering, virginal 12-year-old.
"And did you like what you saw?" His words ripped through me, and I could feel how close we were, could feel his breath on my face, the length of his enrobed body pressed against mine, mere terrycloth standing between my drenched pussy and his magnificent cock. Instead of answering, I moaned like a whore.
The hand that been clamped on my wrist slid around to my back, and I felt a finger from his hand on my face slip between my lips. Involuntarily, I began to suck it eagerly.
"I think you did like it, you filthy little cunt," he whispered. "Now what am I supposed to do about that?"
Before either of us could come up with an answer for that, we heard a door creak, and footsteps come padding down the hall toward the kitchen. Mr. Thomas released me, and I fell back into my chair, desperately trying to regain my composure. My husband walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily. As I gave him a good morning hug, I spied Mr. Thomas over Jake's shoulder, licking his finger where my lips had been.
The day passed like any other day at the Thomas household, with everyone gathering around the table for breakfast, lunch and dinner like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. At dinner, Mrs. Thomas was her usual cold, bitchy self, asking me when I was going to give up my little career and give her son some children. Jake came to my rescue, saying that we were still young, and had plenty of time for that later. I tried not to grimace.
The only thing that was out of place that day was my hammering heart and the color that rose to my cheeks every time Mr. Thomas glanced in my direction. For his part, he remained cool and reserved, never showing any signs of what had happened earlier. That is, until after dinner.
We were all seated in the living room, watching television, when Mr. Thomas asked if I'd come with him to the basement to help retrieve beers for everyone. I could barely breathe over the thumping of my heart, and the renewed wetness between my legs made them shake as I followed him downstairs. When we reached the basement, he opened the fridge they kept down there just for the purpose of storing soft drinks and beer and stood before it as if considering its contents.
"Do you think I need help carrying four beers upstairs, Kitty?" he asked suddenly.
"Well, no sir. I don't suppose that you do."
"Then why do you think I've brought you down here?"
"I suppose it might have something to do with our conversation this morning, Mr. Thomas." He turned and regarded me like he was sizing me up. Then, letting the refrigerator door close, he grabbed me and pushed me back against the wall at the bottom of the basement steps. Grasping both of my hands in one of his fists, he put them up over my head, pressing them painfully into the concrete. He slid his other hand between my jean-clad legs, eliciting a gasp from me, then leaned forward to whisper in my ear.
"Is this what you want, you little slut? Do you want me to rub your hot little pussy and make you come? Will that be enough for you to stop staring at me like a bitch in heat all day?"
"I'm sorry, sir, was I staring?" I was close to tears from the crushing pain he was inflicting on my wrists, but I didn't want him to know how badly I wanted him to fuck me, then and there.
"Clever little whore, aren't you? Why is it that I can never get a straight answer out of you, Kitty? Why do you have to be difficult?" He undid the button on my jeans, and then unzipped them. Pushing his fingers inside my panties, he soon found my weeping slit. I had to bite my lip almost to bleeding to keep from crying out. "Jesus Christ, you're wet! Has your little pussy been making this cream for me all day, or do you just like being dominated?"
I didn't answer, afraid to tell him that I was a little of column A, and a lot of column B. At my silence, he pushed his fingers deep into my slit, practically impaling me on his hand. Wet as I was, I wasn't prepared for this sort of intrusion, and I whimpered in surprise and pain. He seemed ready to say something else, when a light appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Dad, is everything alright?" Jake asked, squinting into the dim light.
"Sure son, Kitty just saw a mouse down here and cried out," Mr. Thomas called up to my husband. "Isn't that right, Kitty?" he asked menacingly, wriggling his fingers inside me.
"Yeah, Jake, I'm fine now. Your dad took care of me, umm, the mouse!" I stammered.
"We'll be up in a minute, Son, go watch TV with your mother." When Jake obeyed him, Mr. Thomas turned to me and whispered, "I have not yet begun to take care of you, my dirty little whore. But I do think I'll be paying you a visit tonight."
No one had been the wiser when I came up the stairs all disheveled, blaming my appearance on being nearly scared to death by a rodent. Such was my duress, no one questioned me when I decided to go to bed early; and when I turned Jake's goodnight kisses away, he seemed to understand.
I lay awake for what seemed hours before I heard the heavy footfalls coming down into the basement. I sat naked, perched beneath the covers on the sofa bed, squinting into the darkness.
"Who's there?" I asked, half hoping that it was Jake, come to check on me.
"You know who it is, Kitty. Unless you've been seducing another father-in-law today?" Mr. Thomas' dark laugh echoed faintly as he clicked on the naked light bulb that hung from the basement ceiling.
"With all due respect, sir, I hardly think that I've been seducing anyone," I said, suddenly indignant. He stood there in his bathrobe, his eyes tracing my curves beneath the nearly transparent sheets. With a malicious gleam in his eyes, he slipped the bathrobe off his shoulders, revealing his naked body to me in its entirety.
His chest was much hairier than Jake's, but like his son, his cock and balls were shaved bare. I gulped, taking in the sight of his large member standing fully erect. He was cut, the bulbous pink head standing well out from the shaft, bobbing up and down. I licked my lips, watching a dribble of precum ooze out from the tip. He placed his hand on his cock, pulling the skin back and forth, running his thumb over the head to use the bead of liquid as lube as he slid his fingers over the sensitive underside of his prick.
"Is this what you saw me doing this morning, Kitty?" When I nodded, he continued, pulling harder on his dick. "Do you like to watch a man jerk himself off? Do you like to see him giving himself pleasure at the sight of a beautiful young whore like yourself? Answer me!"
"Yes, sir," I said, barely able to restrain myself from crawling over and sucking him off.
"Show me that pretty little cunt of yours. I want to look at those juicy, pink lips while I stroke my cock." I obediently slid the covers down, exposing first my breasts, then my stomach, and finally, my bare pussy. I lay on my back, reaching up between my widespread knees to hold my shaved lips open for him to see.
"Touch yourself, slut. Show me what you've wanted to do all day, thinking about my big, hard cock," he said, his breaths becoming more ragged with each thrust. Watching his hand, I quickly mirrored his strokes, slipping the fingers of one hand in my pussy, while rubbing my throbbing clit with the other. I fell onto my back, unable to maintain eye contact with his movements as I lost myself in the delicious feelings of fingering myself. I rubbed harder, aching to come after having suffered all day. I was interrupted by his hand suddenly grabbing both of mine, pinning them over my head in one deft movement as he had done earlier that day.
"Did I tell you to make yourself come, Kitty?" he asked, savagely pressing his hard cock over my clit, bringing me even closer to orgasm, but not close enough. "Did I?"
"Well, no, but I assumed—"
"Dirty little sluts don't get the privilege of assuming anything in this house!" I cringed beneath him, unable to escape his wrath with the way he had me pinned. I realized that my hips were bucking, desperately seeking to let his cock slip inside me, even as I shrank away from him. He looked down, considering my humping motions.
"Is that what you want, Kitty? Do you want my cock inside your wet little pussy? Is that what you need? Do you want to fuck your father-in-law, you filthy little whore?" I turned my head away, blinking back tears of shame. "I won't fuck you until you ask for it," he whispered. As desperate as I was, I remained silent.
Suddenly, he released my hands. He grabbed my knees and spread them wide, his look telling me to keep them spread. I nodded to say I understood, and then he put his lips to my cunt, spreading it open with his fingers as he went.
"I'm going to taste this juicy pussy of yours, Kitty. I'm going to lick you up and down. I'm going to suck your clit until your cream runs down my chin, and then I'm going to tongue fuck you until you beg me for every inch of my dick."
I watched him, eyes wide, as he made good on his words. When his lips closed around my clit, I nearly fainted with the pleasure. The whole time he ate me, his hands were ever moving on my body, caressing everything from my ass to my breasts and back again, as far as his hands would reach. He licked my pussy like he'd never tasted anything so delicious, with long, dragging licks, making me shiver when he probed my hole. He looked up at me now and then, just to show me how wet his face had become with my juices, and every time he asked me if I was ready to be fucked yet. Finally, I nodded.
He leaned forward, rubbing his cockhead up and down my slit, teasing me. I could feel the whiskers of his beard tickle my ear as he whispered, and I could smell myself on his face.
"I think you're going to have to do better than just nodding, my little cunt. I think you should beg me to fuck you."
"Please," I whispered. "Please fuck me, Mr. Thomas."
"Why should I?"
"Because I want you. I need to feel your big cock fill up my pussy because—"
"Because Jake's cock doesn't fill me up like yours can." I wept to tell the truth of it, the reason I'd been salivating over Mr. Thomas' cock ever since I first glimpsed it that morning in the bathroom. Ever since I found out that all my naughty dreams were true. That Mr. Thomas was huge, compared to my husband's average-sized dick.
When he entered me, I nearly screamed. My tight little pussy protested every inch of his member, stretched in ways that didn't seem possible. Even seeing it up close, I'd had no idea how large Mr. Thomas really was, not until he was nearly tearing my cunt apart. As he began moving within me, I relaxed and began to enjoy it as much as he was.
"Fuck, you're tight! Your slick little slit is like a vice! God, I feel like I could come right now!" He was saying in a series of furious whispers. I found myself praying that he would last longer than his son, too, as I needed to be fucked long and hard.
More used to the sensations now, I wrapped my legs around his back, moving in rhythm with his thrusts, letting him slip deeper and deeper inside of me. But he soon tired of this position and pulled out.
"Get on your stomach, slut, I'm going to ride you like the whore you are!" As soon as I had turned over, he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me onto his dick by the fistful of hair. The result was that he was able to pound my cunt harder and harder, while occasionally spanking my ass. It was the spanking that did me in.
"I'm going to come, Mr. Thomas, please, oh, God, I'm going to come!" I nearly screamed.
"Then come, bitch, and scream so the whole neighborhood knows what a fucking whore you are!"
So I did.
Just as I was coming down, my throat as raw as my pussy, Mr. Thomas turned me over again, and he pumped rope after rope of sticky, white cum onto my breasts, belly and slit, covering me in the hot liquid. My pierced nipples stood out hard in the contrasting cold air and hot cum. My father-in-law stared down at me, like a huntsman over a fresh kill. He knelt over me then, his eyes focused on the shiny silver bars adorning my breasts.
"I didn't realize you were pierced. All those tattoos, too. What are you, some kind of masochist?" Suddenly, he was Jake's father again. Even as I lay there, covered in his seed, he stared at me like the same old conservative bastard I had always known. I pushed on his chest, shoving him away from me so I could get cleaned off, my confidence as the outcast daughter-in-law returning.
"So what if I am? Maybe I do like pain, you cantankerous son of a bitch. But what is it to you? You've had your fun. Go back upstairs to your wife. Go watch Fox News or something. Excuse me while I ponder the slightly incestuous, not to mention adulterous, act I just committed," I spat, infuriated that he could be so judgmental after what had just transpired.
He pulled me down onto him, his cum sticking to us both in globs. My legs fell open, perching me on his chest like I was going to mount him. His softening dick lay nestled between my slick pussy lips, reminding me that I had only come once.
"I didn't mean to upset you, Kitty," he said with surprising softness. His fingers found one of my nipples and pulled on the bar there, twisting it slightly. "I only meant that I wasn't aware of the full extent of your submissiveness. I was only guessing when I started spanking you just now. I'd like," he took a deep breath. "I'd like to get to know you fully in that way."
"In what way?" I asked, absentmindedly rubbing my pussy against him.
"I want to know you as a submissive, not just some slut my son brought home," he said. I bristled at the description, and attempted to get up, but he held me where I was by twisting my nipple harder. "Not just some slut, Kitty. I want you to be MY slut."