A Kitchen Encounter

When my daughter Judy and her husband Matt make a weekend visit Sunday's are immutable, we all share an early breakfast, after which they and my husband Jack head for the golf course whilst I spend a quiet morning clearing-up, before joining them for lunch in the club house., This morning was to be an exception, following my nocturnal encounter with Matthew in the bathroom, I simply couldn't face everyone across the breakfast table, so pleading a disturbed night's sleep I stayed quietly in my bed until long after I'd heard them drive away.

It was only a half-lie really, as besides the time which I'd spent in the bathroom with Matthew, I was awake for most of the remainder of the night too, replaying the incident in my mind; I must have relived it a dozen times, during more than half of which I had fingers sliding between my legs to reinforce the memories. After they'd left for the golf club I relived our tryst twice more and with the house to myself now I'd no concerns about anyone overhearing, so better emulated Matt's tumescent cock by ferociously penetrating my already abused pussy with all four fingers as I drove toward each screaming climax. It almost 10:30 before I eventually rose, showered and descended to the kitchen wearing nothing but an ankle length bathrobe; I'd need to change for lunch in an hour or so, it was hardly worth dressing further.

I didn't see, or hear Matthew enter the kitchen, I think I just 'sensed' his presence; turning around from the counter where I was making tea, I found Matt standing before me, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a knowing smile; I stuttered "I...but...where...why aren't you at the golf club?"

To which Matt grinned and replied: "Just like you, I've pulled a sickie." then pointing towards the window: "Have you seen the weather? With the choice of spending my morning playing a round on a cold, wet golf course, or playing around in your warm, wet pussy, it wasn't a difficult decision."

I pressed a hand protectively over my pubis as I told him: "No, you can't, not again, last night was too much; I'm rubbed red-raw down there."

"Ah, but was that from my fucking you, or from playing with yourself this morning? I and probably, half the street heard those orgasms; I guess we'll find out at lunchtime if your screams carried as far as Judy and Jack up at the golf club."

God, I was so embarrassed! I'm sure I must've been bright red as Matt stepped forward, lifted me by the hips and spinning me around as if I weighed nothing, plonked me down on the edge of the kitchen table. Before I could protest, a gentle push between my breasts left me spread-eagled across the table top, with legs splayed and dangling over the edge, my robe parting below its waist-tie and putting my sex on full display before Matt's gaze and gaze he unashamedly did.

As Matthew pressed his hands against my inner thighs I began to again remind Matt of how chafed and tender my pussy was, but he disappeared from view and a moment later I felt the unmistakeable touch of Matt's tongue against my perineum. It was like a spark of electricity and as the full breadth of Matt's tongue slid firmly and slowly forward along the full length of my womanhood, protest disappeared in a groan of pleasure, culminating in a small yelp as he concluded with a flick to my clitoris. A second, third and one fourth and final pass saw me squeezing Matt's head tightly between my thighs whilst voicing a piercing squeal of orgasmic delight; less than thirty seconds and I'd climaxed!

Jack's not gone down on me in years and even in the days when he did, it was invariably a perfunctory and rather mechanical experience, little more than a precursor to his waving an erect cock in my face demanding reciprocation; Matthew's attention was not so much in a different league, as a different universe! He must've squatted between my legs for at least twenty minutes, his lips and tongue laving unceasingly along, across and penetrating deep into my gash, whilst his fingers when not scratching up and down my inner thighs, or occasionally heading north to stroke across my belly to tweak and tease my bloated and aching nipples, danced around the edges, exploring every soft fold and valley of my pussy lips. I was on fire and not even the flow of juices flooding from me could quench the flames, my belly and breasts were damp with those that Matt's fingers had carried there, but from crotch to my knees I was simply awash.

I lost count of the number of times that I orgasmed, though perhaps it was just the once? As before one climax subsided, the next was invariably already well underway and could be concluded as Matt discovered early by his merest touch to my bum. Matt's fingers, stroking and probing at my anal ring were tantalising enough, but any attention by his probing and circling tongue was a pleasure that I'd never enjoyed before and the result was simply explosive! The act alone would undoubtedly have been exciting, but in the context that it was the tongue of my daughter's husband that was making this very first exploration of my most secret place, it felt especially and quite deliciously debauched, never failing to generate yet another shuddering and squealing climax, followed by ten or twenty seconds where I could do nothing beyond gasp for breath and listen to my racing heartbeat subside.

This was exactly my situation when Matt's oral attentions finally ended and I was no more than half-aware of his standing upright, casting off his boxer shorts, nor indeed those first brushes of his rigid cock sliding through the juice-soaked carpet of my matted pubic hair and across my dripping labia, until it too was slick and glistening with my viscous emissions. It was only when Matt gripped my calves and lifted my weak and flaccid legs high to drape across shoulders, that I fully comprehended his intention; despite my previously voiced proscription, he was going to fuck me again! I was surprised at Matthew's blatant disregard for my earlier edict, but having considered my bruised and ravaged pussy for hardly a moment, a smile of eager anticipation spread across my face. Matt's extensive oral-foreplay had left me slick and dripping, besides which I was more 'turned on' than perhaps I'd ever been in my whole life, sore or not, I too now wanted him to penetrate me.

Matt's cock felt even larger than I'd recalled as it ground insistently across my crotch, then during the seconds when he reached down to adjust it's position, I clearly recall thinking: 'No Matt, a little higher'. That thought was gone in an instant with the dawning realisation that Matt had never intended ignoring my earlier fiat and a moment later his hips thrust aggressively forward driving the head of his swollen cock through the tight rosebud of my anal ring and into my virgin bum. There was a sharp pain, followed by a burning sensation and I emitted a sharp, tight scream in response to Matt's initial penetration; immediately after my temperature seemed to go through the roof, my whole torso glowing red at the intrusion of what felt like a tree-trunk threatening to spilt me in two and I could do nothing beyond lie there gasping for breath.

We must've maintained that tableau for many seconds, perhaps even a minute or more? It wasn't until the initial shock of Matt's intrusion had begun to pass that I realised he'd not gone further, but neither had he withdrawn and the look on Matt's face when I finally met his gaze was definitely one of the 'oh shit, what have I done?' variety. I'm not totally naive, I had known that there were women who might welcome such attention, but they were sluts and whores, not reserved and conservative wives and mothers like myself. Though as I recovered my breath and composure I also began to question that hypothesis, though I couldn't decide whether conservative wives could perhaps enjoy anal sex, or alternatively, whether I too was a slut? Whichever, the look of relief on Matt's face when I smiled and whispered: "Don't you dare stop now." was a picture.

Matt immediately began to work his tumescent cock further into my tight an unyielding bum, it was a slow process and a complex mixture of both pleasure and pain, though the latter eased a little when I passed him the bottle of olive oil standing on the table beside my head. As Matthew used half its contents to liberally lubricate us both, things got easier and the sting of the oil's herb-infusion added yet another layer of delight to my tingling nerve-ends. I've no idea how long it took for the moment to finally arrive, but the gentle tap of Matthew's balls hitting my buttocks, seemed to dispel any final vestige of discomfort, whereafter it was pure pleasure and no matter how deeply Matt drove his stiff cock into my now yielding bowel, I begged for more.

Those few minutes were undoubtedly the most intense carnal experience of my entire life, with Matthew pounding into me like a madman, whilst I screamed encouragement in language the like of which I've never used before and as I realised only afterwards, with one hand pulling and twisting on my own nipples, whilst the other uncaringly plunged deep into my already ravaged pussy. Matt didn't last long -- hardly surprising! - but he didn't need to and the consummation when it arrived was noisy and dissolute. Matthew bellowing like a bull as he fired stream upon stream of semen deep into my bowels, whilst I screamed like a banshee as yet another and the strongest orgasm of them all ripped through my belly. Nobody's ever mentioned it, but I cannot believe that not one of the neighbours overheard?

As we lay entwined on that table, exhausted and gasping for breath, in a pool of sweat, semen and olive oil, I could've happily stayed there forever; sadly my reverie was short-lived, with Matthew leaping up and declaring: "Christ it's ten past twelve! We can't be late for lunch at the Golf Club."