Falling for my Mother-in-law Ch. 01

Falling for my Mother-in-law, Ch. 1

Mother-in-law invited to live with daughter and son-in-law.

While she was in China on a business trip, my wife invited her mother to live with me without telling me. Typical of her, I'm the last person she remembered to tell anything. When it came to her job and to her career, she planned everything to the nth degree but not when it came to me. In her scheme of things, I'm just an afterthought.

A multiplicity of unanticipated events happened today, all of them unexpected, and all of them unwanted. It all started on one, bright and sunny morning that my life, as I know it, changed forever. The sky was blue, the birds were singing, and I was humming and whistling, too. It was a beautiful day and I was happy. I was so very happy.

Living a good life working from home while enjoying my privacy and earning piles of money, it was good to be alive. One of the happiest days of my life, honestly, I'm even happier now than I was on my wedding day. By far, this was the best day of my life of living 32-years on the planet.

Now, with no one telling me what to do and when to do it, I do whatever I wanted, and whenever I wanted to do it. Finally, comfortable in my routine working from home, I'm the boss of my own destiny. Never believing that I'd be happy working from home, a big adjustment in the beginning, but I've never been as happy as I was now.

No longer having to set my alarm, I can awaken any time that I wanted. I loved not having to fight the traffic to go to the office every day. Not having to worry about the weather, I could relax sipping my coffee while watching the news.

Alas, nothing stayed the same. Everything is subject to change. Turning everything dark gray, the clouds suddenly rolled in to darken my bright, blue sky overhead.

Suddenly feeling the doom and the gloom of foreboding, much like the weather peeing on my parade, give it a minute and something will happen to change my good times to bad times. As if I had a sixth sense, feeling a sense of evil in the air, I felt something bad, really bad, was about to happen to ruin my day and destroy my life. I didn't know what it was but whatever it was, I wasn't going to like it.

# # #

With my life not perfect, my only complaint is my wife. Christine is never home. A world traveler, she's always traveling. When she's not at the airport or on a plane, as if she's a foreign service agent, a diplomat, or an ambassador, she's always on business in a foreign country. Usually passing them along to her mother and/or to her friends, with her company footing all of her travel expenses, she earns enough free mileage points to never have to pay for another airline ticket or pay for another hotel room.

When she's home, whether on Zoom, on her laptop, or on her phone, she's still working. Seldom taking time off, a sick day or a vacation day, she accumulates those too for when she really needs time away from her job to decompress. When she's home and not working, she's tired, cranky, and moody. Whenever I wanted to get romantic, she has a headache, a backache, an ass ache, or has her period.

I wished she was more loving, patient, and kinder. I wished she was more sexual, an understatement. I wished she wanted to have as much sex with me as I wanted to have with her. I wished she wanted children but, interfering with her career, she doesn't want children.

Something that she wasn't before I married her, if I had to describe my wife, then, she was warm, affectionate, and caring. She wanted children until she got this God forsaken job. If I had to describe her now, she's cold, uncaring, and not very loving.

Forget about sex, I seldom get to kiss her. Not remembering the last time, we made out, we don't make out anymore. With a deep rift between us, forget about making love, we argue more than we talk.

I spend most of my days and nights alone while she's living out of a suitcase in a hotel somewhere on the other side of the world. Now, with her not filling her role as my wife, I wonder why I married her. With her not needing my sexual comfort and companionship, I wonder why she married me.

Even though I appreciate working from home and being alone to do my own thing, I hate sleeping alone. I need to feel her warm body next to me. Yet, even when she's sleeping in bed next to me, with her sexually unresponsive, her side of the bed is always cold.

As soon as we married, with her more focused on her career than on our marriage, as if turning off a faucet, the sex abruptly stopped. Sexually frustratingly, we had more sex and better sex before we married than we had now. Seemingly, with her no longer interested in having sex with me, she devoted more of her attention to her job, and to her successful career than to me. With her busy thousands of miles away on the other side of the world, I was just a memory that didn't interfere with her thoughts.

'Unimportant to her in her job and in her career, I'm no longer her lover, just a name on her marriage license, I'm her husband,' I thought. 'I wished I had never married her. I wished I had married someone else.'

# # #

Impatiently waiting for her to reach the top, I hoped that as soon as her career climbed out of the stratosphere and reached the pinnacle that she'd focus her attention more on me and on our marriage than on her career. Surprisingly, something she's never done, and something that I wanted her to do and wished she'd do, Christine had never blown me. No surprise there, she's never sucked my cock.

I'd love my wife to suck my cock. I'd love to cum in her beautiful mouth. I'd love to watch her swallow my cum. I'd love to ejaculate a second load of cum all over her pretty face, in her blonde hair, and across her D cup, naked breasts. I'd love to give her a cum bath. I'd love to see her dripping with my cum. Only, she won't even blow me.

Yet, with her not sexually submissive enough to play the role of being my cocksucking whore, she's dabbled with blowing me. She's taken me in her mouth and licked the head of my prick while kissing it but she never took my dick all the way in her mouth and sucked it while stroking it. Maybe, she's afraid of it because it's rather big. Seemingly, the last thing that she wanted me to do, was what I wanted to do, to ejaculate a load of my warm, oozy cum in her mouth.

Nothing more than my sexual fantasy when masturbating myself, I'd love to watch Christine blow me. I'd love her to look up at me with her big, blue eyes with my big dick buried in her mouth while she's stroking me and sucking me. Something that I've masturbated over, I'd love to hear her call my name while I'm fucking her fast enough and hard enough to give her a sexual orgasm with my cock.

Yet, taking me in her mouth didn't seem to bother her when we were dating. We did everything except to have sexual intercourse. Nevertheless, even then, after I had given her oral sex plenty of times, she never reciprocated and gave me oral sex. She just dabbled. Pretending that she was sucking my cock, she acted as if she was blowing me.

As she does now, she did then, she pretended to suck my cock. She never completed blowing me. She never allowed me to cum in her mouth.

I figured that her giving me a blowjob would be something she'd do after we had married but, with us married more than five years, she still hasn't blown me. I'm still waiting for Christine to give me a blowjob. I'm still waiting for my wife to suck my cock and allow me to cum in her mouth.

Whenever she briefly took me in her mouth, I was tempted to put a heavy hand to the back of her blonde, pretty head and hold her head in place. I wanted to hump her mouth. I wanted to fuck her face while my prick was buried deep in her mouth. I wanted to cum in her mouth.

Yet, if I forced her to blow me, I imagined her pushing against me, punching me in my stomach, and pinching my thighs while trying to remove my cock from her mouth. Nevertheless, while pulling her head forward, making her my submissive bitch, I imagined ejaculating a load of my warm, oozy cum in her mouth. Only, no doubt, spitting it out, she'd be angry with me cumming in her mouth and forcing her to swallow my cum.

'With her always in control, my wife is no one's submissive bitch,' I thought.

Sadly, and sexually frustratingly, with me unable force her to suck my cock, she's never given me a real blowjob. With her removing me from her mouth way too soon, she's never given me a completed blowjob. Too soon for me to cum, it's sexually frustrating for her to partially take me in her mouth and then to remove me from her mouth a minute or two later.

'What the Hell is that? That's not a blowjob,' I thought while sexually frustrated.

Hopefully, one day, she'll be just as horny for me as I am for her. Hopefully, one day, she'll be more interested in having sex with me than in advancing in her career. Hopefully, one day, she'll be the whore that she was before I married her. Hopefully, one day, she'll blow me and allow me to cum in her mouth and will swallow my cum. Until that day, I masturbate over imagining my wife sucking my cock and giving me a real blowjob.

All the girlfriends and wives of my friends have given them blowjobs, multiple blowjobs. They've all allowed them to cum in their mouths. Not spitting it out, they've all swallowed their cum. They've even allowed them to give them cum baths. The odd man out, I feel as if there's something wrong with me for her not to give me oral sex.

Hopefully, one day, she'll sexually want me as much as I sexually want her. I still wait for the day when she'll suck my cock, allow me to cum in her beautiful mouth, and will swallow my cum. I still wait for the day when she'll allow me to give her a cum bath.

Hopefully, my patience will be rewarded. Good things come to those who wait. Yet, with my wife more interested in her career, I feel that the chances of her giving me what I sexually wanted is slim to nil.

# # #

Nevertheless, with me in a good mood and having a great day, all that it took to dampen my spirits, and ruin my life was when I received an email from my wife. Oddly enough, without her even asking me, Christine, invited her mother, Sharon, to move in our house. With her traveling on extensive, business trips and gone for long periods of time, she thought that it would be a good idea for her mother to live with us, and to keep me company when she wasn't home.

"She can cook for you, Michael," she wrote. "She can clean for you. She can do your laundry. She can run your errands so that you can concentrate on your work without being interrupted," she wrote. "She can be the mother than you never had."

I'd rather do my own cooking and cleaning, thank you very much. I'd rather do my own laundry. I'd rather run my own errands. I never had any problem concentrating on my work before her mother lived here but now with her soon living with me, I imagined her interrupting me to talk and/or to ask me stupid questions.

'The mother that I never had,' I thought?

I never met my real mother. My mother died giving birth to me. My father remarried. I had a stepmother. Sharon could never be my mother.

# # #

What encouraged my wife's decision for her mother to move it with us, killing two birds with one stone, was when her mother lost her job and could no longer afford the monthly rent on her apartment. Nevertheless, at a loss for words, I wished she had consulted with me. Had she asked me first, I would have overruled her. Maybe, the reason why she didn't ask me first is because she knew that I would have said no to her mother moving in our house.

I definitely didn't want her mother living with me. I didn't want to live with her mother. A stranger to me, I barely know the woman. When I'm having such a good time living alone, why would I want to live with my mother-in-law?

Something that would dramatically change my life, I couldn't believe that my wife had invited her mother to invade my privacy and ruin my life. With her living with me, there goes my routine. There goes my privacy. Never will I be happy with a woman that I barely know, for all intents and purposes, a stranger, invading my house and interfering with my private life.

Having not seen her in more than five-years, having a hard time remembering her to imagine her, I struggled to remember what she looked like. All that I remembered about her was as soon as I saw her, no surprise there, with me always horny, that I was immediately, sexually attracted to her. My wife's mother, Sharon, was a real MILF. With my wife seldom giving me sex, instead of my mother-in-law being short and fat, Sharon was my sexual, fantasy woman.

# # #

Remembering her now. My kind of woman, looking more like an older version of her daughter, she was tall. She was blonde. She had big, blue, beautiful eyes just like her daughter. More importantly, Sharon had big tits.

My sexual weakness, I love mature women with big breasts, the bigger the better, and her mother certainly had quite the rack. She had bigger tits than her daughter's C cup breasts. Yet, even more than her having big breasts, something that I've always been, I'm sexually attracted to older women. Before I dated Christine, all my girlfriends were older women. Some of them were old enough to be my mother.

No longer going through their menstrual cycles, older women didn't have the emotional immaturity, nor did they have the imagined or real psychological problems of younger women. They didn't play the games that younger women played. They didn't waste their time sexually teasing me.

Grateful for my affectionate attention and my sexual attraction to them, they willingly and consensually removed their clothes and immediately climbed in bed. They enjoyed being with a younger man. They enjoyed being with a man who had all of his hair, all of his teeth, and had a hard cock whenever they wanted it and needed it.

Normally, Sharon having big breasts would have been plenty enough to spark and encourage my sexual interest in her but not enough for me to want her to live with me. Unfortunately, even though I've admittedly masturbated over my mother-in-law while imagining her in her bra and panties, topless, and naked while having sex with her, realistically, and unfortunately, sex with her was out of the question. She was my wife's mother. I can't have sex with my mother-in-law.

Berating myself, how dare I have those forbidden sexual thoughts? How dare I be sexually attracted to my mother-in-law? How dare I masturbate over Sharon while imagining her naked and having sex with me? How dare I harbor such sick thoughts as to want to have sex with my wife's mother? Perhaps, saving her from myself, was the real reason why I didn't want her living with me.

I blame my sexual attraction to her mother on my wife. If Christine had given me the sex that I wanted and needed, I would never look at another woman, especially not a woman who was her older clone. Instead, I'd be sexually satisfied with my wife not to look for what I needed and wanted elsewhere. I loved my wife. I wanted Christine. I didn't want Sharon.

'What's wrong with me,' I thought? 'Maybe, if my mother-in-law didn't look so much like my wife, I wouldn't be sexually attracted to her. Maybe, if my wife was home more to give me sex, I wouldn't be horny enough to imagine her mother naked and having sex with me. Maybe, if my wife blew me, allowed me to cum in her mouth, and swallowed my cum, I wouldn't be thinking of having sex with another woman, especially not with her mother,' I thought.

# # #

Had Christine asked me before she went ahead and gave her mother the green light to move in with us, I would have vetoed her moving in with us. I would have voted to pay her rent rather than having her live with us. With the money that my wife earned as a world traveling, marketing executive, with a master's degree from Harvard Business School, we'd have no problem financially subsidizing her mother. We well could have afforded to give her whatever she needed.

Instead of her moving in with me, as a way for me to maintain my precious privacy, and as our nest egg of an investment property, I'd even agree to buy Sharon a house. Again, with me working from home, and making a good chunk of change, too, better than commuting back and forth to work, I enjoyed my alone time. I needed my privacy. I needed my space. I needed to concentrate on my job than feeling compelled to have a conversation with my wife's mother and feeling forced to entertain my mother-in-law.

Not having a dog to walk, or children to take to school, I didn't have to get dressed every day. If I wanted, I could stay in bed. Yet, with me an early riser, I was always up early and working. Unless I was ill, not a video game player, or a sports fanatic fan, I'd never waste my time idly staying in bed and/or watching mindless television.

It wasn't my style to lounge around the house while doing nothing productive. Ambitiously driven, I always did something that earned me money and advanced my career. In that regard, I was much like my wife. Yet, unlike Christine, not traveling the world but staying home, I wanted and needed sex.

Nevertheless, with me a solitary person, other than when my wife was home, I enjoyed living alone. I had no problem occupying my alone time. I preferred being left alone to think and to ponder the universe.

I wondered if there's a God, angels, and the devil. I wondered if there are aliens, ghosts, vampires, zombies, and the walking dead. I wondered what happens when we die. I wondered if there's reincarnation. Moreover, something a bit kinky to do, I enjoyed walking around my house in my underwear, sometimes, even naked if the mood struck.

Walking around my house naked is something that I could only do when working from home and when living alone. Yet, if only some of my hot, female co-workers only knew that I was naked below the waist while on Zoom, I wondered what they'd say. Nothing more than a sexual fantasy that I've masturbated over, I imagined having a meeting at my house with a select few female co-workers.

No doubt, horny and sexually frustrated because my wife wasn't here to give me sex, yet, even when she's home, we seldom had sex. Nevertheless, nothing more than a sexual fantasy when masturbating myself, I imagined conducting an in-person, business meeting in my pajama bottoms without wearing underwear. Accidentally on purpose, deliberately flashing them, I imagined my erect cock pushing its way out of my pajama pee hole and exposing myself to my female co-workers.

I imagined pretending that I didn't know that I was nakedly exposed. If they saw my big, naked prick, I wondered what they'd say. I wondered what they'd do. I wondered if they'd look, stare, or look away. Would they tell me that I'm exposed?

I wondered if they'd be embarrassed or sexually aroused when seeing my naked prick? Would they report me for exposing myself to them? In my defense, I could always say that my exhibitionism was unintentional.

While imagining them wearing short skirts and white panties, after seeing my naked cock, I wondered if they'd return my exhibitionism with their exhibitionism. I wondered if they'd sit with their short skirts moved up high enough and with their knees parted open enough to expose a slice of nirvana to me. I wondered if they'd solicit me to have sex with them.

# # #

Truth be told, before I married, having been to a few, nude beaches in my life, I could have been a nudist. I loved being naked. Truth be told, something I'd never tell my wife, I loved flashing myself to unsuspecting women.

While masturbating, I've imagined exposing my erect, naked prick to some of my wife's girlfriends while making my cock flashes appear unintentional in the way that I masturbated over flashing my co-workers. Only, something I'd never do, unless I was at a nude beach, I'd never deliberately flash my naked cock to any unsuspecting women. I may be horny and may masturbate myself with the thought of exposing myself, but I'd never deliberately expose myself. I'm may be sexually frustrated but I'm not perversely perverted.