Today was the big day, the day of 'The Move'. A day that Mark never expected to happen this soon, let alone at all. Today, was the move of his Mother-In-Law!
In itself not the most exciting, glamorous or stimulating of events, however, he had already committed to helping many months before. When the wheels of solicitors and estate agents were turning ever more slowly, or so it appeared from the outside looking in.
On the plus side, the Sun had turned out in full force, its bright beams of light flooding down warmly. The other plus being the sister in law, always easy on the eye with a dress sense to match; typically baggy blue jeans that barely clung to her hips, always planning their route back to the floor from where they'd been raised earlier that day. More than willing and eager to drop below the panty line offering up a glimpse of white cotton.
It always seemed to be white cotton whenever he'd sneak a glance, surely her whole wardrobe didn't consist of plain white cotton? It seemed to be at opposites to her bright bubbly personality, a sharp contrast if you will to this outgoing, chirpy young woman.
The top almost always seemed to be a short sleeved t-shirt, usually splashed with colour as if highlighting the fact that white cotton didn't quite have it all its own way.
As their car pulled up to what was going to be the new house after today, he could see that she'd already arrived. She sauntered over to the car, waving her greeting whilst mouthing "Hi" to us.
A quick check from Mark appeared to confirm that today's attire was pretty standard fair, not about to set any records or attract huge flocks of new fans, but enough to satisfy a well trained observer such as he.
"Heya, how's it going?" she asked as Mark and his wife stepped out of the car, pushing the doors to gently so as not to alert the new neighbours to their presence, as if fearing that upon hearing the noise they would shamble and shuffle over. Imagining arms laden with gifts of fruit and jams and what not, welcoming another new soul into 'The Neighbourhood'.
He mumbled his well worn and typical line of "Good thanks, you?" as the two sisters hugged their greetings, arms wrapping high around the shoulder line and squeezing, before pulling back enough to afford a quick peck on the cheek.
"Do we have much to do?" he asked, popping the boot of the car so he could reach the tools he had promised to bring along. Hefting the bag onto his left shoulder before pushing the boot shut.
"Well the removal people have been and gone," came the warm reply. "Everything's been put in the living room, so we can clear out the bedrooms before moving the beds and clothing in."
"Let's get to it then," Mark beamed. "No time to waste."
He walked past her on the way to the back door, catching a slight waft of her perfume; light and flowery today, a very pleasant aroma he thought inhaling deeply, savouring the moment.
Mark pushed open the back door which led through into a small hallway. Glancing around he could see that the living room and kitchen were off to the left, the bedrooms to the right. The magnolia painted walls seemed almost a must these days, you simply had to use this colour if you were selling up and moving on.
His body seeming to make a bee-line towards the right, the subconscious for some reason either knew better, or had its own hidden agenda. One that he would hopefully be advised on later.
"If you head off to the right," came the voice from behind. "We can start in the bedrooms if you like?"
What is about words and lines that can be interpreted multiple ways? More to the point, why is it when these phrases are uttered we always pick the more exciting, yet ultimately less likely version to run through in our heads?
Mark of course had already made the association, to be honest the racing thoughts running loops around his mind were a couple of laps ahead. Without any conscious effort or will his mind had already leapt from being in a bedroom he'd never seen before today, to kneeling in front of his sister in law, hands having already made the commitment to un-pop the buttons on the jeans, proceeding to help them in their preordained quest to end up as a denim puddle around her feet.
Inhaling deeply again he imagined a vague scent of musky aroma, sending a frisson of excitement through his groin, his cock leaping at the thought, pulse starting to race as his heart pumped blood to all those areas it considered were most in need.
A hand resting on his shoulder shook Mark from his delightful daydream, just as he was getting ready to press his face into the soft, warm white cotton, nostrils flared in anticipation of heaven.
"Hey, you still here?" she asked.
"Yep, yep...yes indeed," Mark coughed nervously. "Just taking it all in, working out where to start," he lied. Looking away and heading for the first bedroom to escape to, give his heart time to slow down, reduce the thudding sensation coursing through his body.
"If you start over there, remove the pictures and other hangings, I'll clean the skirting board."
She skipped off in the direction of the kitchen, seeking her bucket and sponge which had earlier been left by the sink in anticipation of her first task.
Mark slipped the tool bag from his left shoulder and lowered it slowly onto the carpet. The carpet was a pale blue, darker than the blue satiny walls of the bedroom, a nice contrast though. This carpet was staying it had been agreed, it was still plush enough that your feet sank into it ever so slightly as you walked over it. You could imagine standing there, looking down at your bare feet whilst you spread your toes wide, before scrunching them up tight feeling the wool slip and glide between your toes.
She was back already, standing in the doorway, bucket in one hand and dripping sponge in the other.
"Right," she said. "I'll start in this corner, hopefully I'll be out of your way." she grinned, before turning round and bending slowly at the waist to put the bucket on the floor. Short top raising sufficiently to already reveal an inch or 2 of white cotton panty. It was going to be a long afternoon he realised.
Mark considered that the easiest way of surviving the afternoon intact would be to start at the opposite wall, facing away from the inevitable distraction he had glimpsed earlier. This worked for about 5 minutes!
He'd forgotten how chatty she was, how naturally curious and seemingly genuinely interested in what he considered to be the mundane aspects his life.
"How's work?" she asked enquiringly.
He'd always felt it a little bit rude to talk to people with your back to them, so automatically turned in the direction of the voice. The sight that caught his eye was of her resting on her haunches, back to him with the occasional stretch and lean to rub the sponge along the grimy, formerly glossy white painted boards. A white that in its heyday probably matched her underwear.
The sight was mesmerising, making it difficult to tear his gaze away.
Whilst resting on her heels, the white cotton was plainly in view, about an inch. When she stretched up to reach the boards the knickers pulled down to release the first view of the crack dividing her golden tanned cheeks. He figured he could easily answer her questions whilst admiring the view, if she turned around he could simply carry this motion through to him turning and facing the wall, carrying on with the work of unscrewing the shelf units.
Mark had never known if it was the same for women. Assumed it was but never felt confident to broach the subject with his female friends. For a bloke, once your arousal state goes beyond a certain point, that's it until you choose do something about it. Once it's been triggered, you can kiss logical thought and reasoning goodbye.
From this point onwards every glimpse or glance has the potential to either maintain that pleasant plateau of semi arousal, or increase it. If you were hoping a mug of cocoa and a good night's sleep would wipe the slate clean, think again. Be prepared for more of the same the next day!
For the next 10 minutes he was able to stand, statue like as she continued to chat away without ever turning around. Crisp white cotton filling his vision. When she bent over, his eyes simply traced the line from the crack down the dividing line of her jeans to rest on her crotch. Where the denim had pulled up he could see where the fabric met the mound of her pussy. His thoughts now picking up their pace again.
If she carried on this motion, would the next lean forward leave the jeans in place so he could get the complete view of her knickers? Sufficient to see the lines on the cotton where the gusset began, see it stretched over her exquisite lips, by now imagined to be hot and wet in his fantasy.
How would it feel if he were able to rub his middle finger from the top where the crack of her arse was visible, slowly, following the line pressing gently on the cotton as it headed towards her entrance, by now wet with lust. Imagining how the closer he got, the warmer everything became until he felt it almost radiating, pulsating from her crotch.
The pinnacle being a gentle press of the cotton into her wet pussy, sensing the heavy build up of secretions beneath the fabric, resisting broaching that final barrier of surreptitiously sliding a finger under the taut elastic and stroking slow lazy circles in her hot juices. Savouring that most exquisite of sensations of hot wet pussy juice being rubbed over the slick plump red lips beneath.
"Hello? Planet Earth calling!"
Mark shook his head, trying to shake those last few thoughts from his groggy mind.
She was stood up facing him, tugging her jeans up gently as if realising what had been going on.
His face flushed automatically, turning a bright beetroot red. He knew he'd drifted off and was expecting a slap, being called a pervert before she stormed off to tell everyone about the kind of brother-in-law she had.
Mark didn't think he was erect, but he also didn't feel now was the time to check the accuracy of this assumption!.
He raised his head to look in her direction, struggling to maintain eye contact.
"I was just asking if you wanted a coffee or anything, but you were just staring into space!"
This whole sentence was stated through a sly knowing grin. If she'd effected a wink to add emphasis it wouldn't have felt out of place.
"Ummm....yeah, tea would be great thanks," he mumbled, looking away as if the need to get on with the work was of the utmost importance.
"Great," came the reply, before she turned around tugging her loose jeans up, pulling the denim tight over her backside highlighting the contour of her knickers, before jauntily heading off In the direction of the kitchen as Mark's gaze watched the VPL.
Mark leant heavily against the wall, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. His heart was still pounding, its beat pulsing in his head as if it were the walls that were beating. He knew that if he was going to survive the afternoon without suffering further humiliation he would have to work in another room, give his head a chance to clear.
He took the opportunity to lower his hand to his groin, the semi-erect state wasn't a complete surprise. He'd really gotten into the spirit of the daydream! He was hoping his own baggy jeans were loose enough that it wouldn't have been obvious. That he didn't own tight jeans any more an unforeseen blessing.
She appeared in the entrance of the door, 2 steaming mugs of tea held before her.
"Here," she said holding out the left mug. "I think this one is yours."
Mark took the mug, ensuring that he didn't accidentally touch her skin. Now wasn't the time to gauge her mood. He nodded his thanks.
"I'm going to finish up here and do some of the outside work," he said, knowing full well that her sole task for today required her to remain indoors.
"Be a shame to miss out on all this sun."
He grinned nervously as he sidled past her, ensuring again that he didn't accidentally brush against her, picking up his pace as he headed for the front door.
The rest of the afternoon was a welcome relief. Uneventful and certainly no opportunity to get himself into trouble! If he could get through the evening meal without setting a foot wrong, he could escape this episode reasonably intact. He would still have the vivid daydreams, which thankfully at present were neither taxed nor illegal.
The evening meal was a safe and comfortable affair, made more so given the close moment earlier. Mark had somehow managed to keep his wandering gaze in check, allowing the occasional glance and eye contact during conversation, but nothing to indicate he was being anything other than courteous, almost normal he pondered.
"I forgot!" came a shriek "I need to go back down the shops to get some cushions for the front room. Anyone else coming?"
Mark's wife had drawn up a list earlier of things required, so at least by the end we could 'tick' some things off. Mark shook his head as did S.I.L, leaving the others to head towards the car. Town was about a 20 minute drive away, take into consideration a bit of shopping and the best part of an hour could be gone.
Once the car engine sound had faded into the distance, Mark shifted in his seat intending to stand, having already pressed his hands into the sides of the chair, with the sole intention of pushing himself up.
"Not so fast," beamed S.I.L. "Stay put, I've got something I think you were looking for earlier."
His thoughts drifted back to the afternoon's events. He couldn't recall looking for something! He recalled even less mentioning he was looking for something.
He sat there bemused, looking her in the eye as she continued smiling, before turning and heading towards the hallway, swinging her pert backside around before exaggerating a slinky sway and most deliberate of walks out of the room.
"Back in a minute," she chirped.
By now he had no idea as to what she was going to do. He had already adopted his best 'rabbit in the headlights' impression when she first stood up.
He heard the bathroom door close, the bolt sliding across.
He sat in the chair, nervously kicking his heels against the chair legs. The wait felt like forever, sitting, pondering on this unknown 'thing' he'd been looking for, certainly unknown to him but apparently not to her.
Kicking the chair was a welcome distraction, forcing his thoughts to focus albeit just a little. Up until the point the rasping sound of a bolt being pulled across jolted him from his semi hypnotic state.
Mark heard the door whisper open as it slid over the carpet. The soft padding footsteps indicating S.I.L was heading back in his direction.
She'd always seemed to prefer walking around in socks or bare footed. In this case it appeared to provide an extra degree of stealth, as before he knew it there she was standing in the doorway, both hands behind her back and a Cheshire cat like grin spreading across her face.
"Found it!" she exclaimed excitedly. Looking at him as if any second now, a rare but essential 'light bulb' moment would occur. He would finally be on her wavelength and recall the item in question.
"I need you to close your eyes," she said in a mocking serious tone. "Otherwise I can't hand this over."
"It's OK," Mark stammered. "I don't recall looking for something, so I don't mind if you keep it."
He couldn't make eye contact, simply looked in her general direction, wildly flitting his gaze to avoid focussing on anything in particular.
"Honestly," she said, taking a slow calculated step towards him. "I think you'll like it, and you were most definitely looking earlier."
She left the sentence incomplete, still the knowing smile seeming to increase his nervousness. She most certainly had him at her mercy, having some sway over his possible options.
Another step was taken. "Close your eyes," she said.
Mark gave in, surrendered. His ability to resist had been depleted. His last view was of her knowing grin, seemingly etched onto his eyelids once he closed his eyes.
"No peeking," she said forcefully, the soft padding of her feet stepping closer, closer.
He could sense that she was stood behind him now.
"Lean back and relax," she purred.
Mark did his best to relax, took a couple of deep breaths before attempting to sink into the chair. He wanted to at least convey a sense of relaxation even though his heart had picked up the steady rhythm from earlier. His temples were pounding, sending flashes of colour across his closed eye vision.
He heard something drop onto the table in front of him. It wasn't heavy, not something that was solid. It made a faint plop sound.
"I've just put something in front of you," she whispered into his left ear. "It's not time to open your eyes yet though, but I'll let you use your hands to try and work out what it is."
She gently picked up his arms, guiding them towards the object she had dropped onto the table.
Not knowing how large the object was, Mark felt around for a little before closing in on some material. At first he thought it was a napkin from earlier, but he knew they'd been moved, placed in the basket for washing. Anyway, this material was warm, too warm to be a napkin.
He had the material gently clasped between his thumb and forefinger. Both hands rubbing it between them, trying to work out what it is. His mind was racing, he genuinely had no idea. He went to raise the material up before a hand rested on his left wrist.
"Nah uh," came the chiding voice. "Not yet."
His hands were gently pressed back down, forcing him to rely on what his fingers could feel. An underused sense up until now.
He started to increase the diameter of his circular rubbing. Whatever it was, it was still warm.
He could feel an edge, like a thin band of elastic. Both sides seemed to be the same. He followed this seam round slowly, still unsure of what he would find but driven to reveal the mystery before him..
He grazed a finger over something wet and warm on the material. He kept rubbing. It was quite wet he'd concluded as the material was wet on both sides. There was a slight stickiness to parts of it, though not unpleasant.
Mark had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't hear that S.I.L had moved from behind the chair. He only heard as she sat back down opposite.
"You can open your eyes if you like?" she said.
Mark opened his left eye first, slowly, still unsure of what he'd see. His brain was so addled from everything that had happened today, his senses dulled, that nothing registered until both eyes were wide. Glancing down slowly, he could see his fingers still slowly rubbing the gusset of a white cotton pair of knickers.
He'd not intended to use his 'rabbit in the headlights' impression twice in one day, but this time it was out of his control. He gulped hard, his breath catching. His brain was on autopilot as he struggled to stop his fingers from continuing their slow lazy circles over the wet fabric.
"To help you out," she announced gleefully, breaking the awkward silence. "Yes, they are the ones you were looking at earlier, and yes, you are rubbing your fingers in my juices!"
This last part amused her as she chuckled throatily.
This stopped him dead in his tracks. If his mind was racing earlier, everything now was in danger of coming off the tracks. Whilst he was struggling to process all the new information, his cock had ideas of its own as it started to stiffen. The blood pumping to engorge the muscles and bring it into a defiant erection, as if it somehow knew better.
"You seem a bit dazed," she said calmly. "Here, let me help."
She leant across the table, raising his arms and pressing the still warm wet gusset into his face. Even without inhaling deeply, the sweet musky scent of her arousal filled his senses, set every sexual need on high alert. His cock twitching more now as this additional sensation had been unleashed.