My Father Visits Ch. 06

With his head against the pillow and his chin on his chest, John had to look through the gauze of his own graying chest hair to watch the woman who was between his legs, studiously licking the underside of his thick erection. She seemed to be focusing intently on what she was doing, and from this angle he could only see the top half of her face.

After a few moments, he reached down with his right hand and caressed her cheek. She looked up and made eye contact, her eyes twinkling. She raised her head just enough that he could see the corners of her mouth curl up in a lascivious smile. He smiled back at her.

"What?" she asked him, coyly. As she wrapped her soft left hand around his shaft and slowly slid his foreskin back up over his glans, then pulled it back again, her wedding ring sparkling in the morning sunlight.

He just shook his head. She arched her eyebrows at him, and then returned to her ministrations, flicking her tongue back and forth over his sensitive frenulum as she continued to make his foreskin glide back and forth over the broad, pinkish knob.

He loved the way she demonstrated her fascination with his uncircumcised manhood. And articulated it. At age 60, recently divorced after 38 years of marriage, John had never been with a woman who was so demonstrative and vocal about enjoying sex. During the divorce, the hope that he might have a sexual renaissance in his 60s had occurred to him, but seemed like a remote dream. What he never could have imagined was that it would happen with his own son's wife.

"What?" she had said. She was always challenging him to speak up, to use his words, to talk during sex. "What," in this case, had been a sudden overwhelming wave of affection and gratitude, causing him to reach out and stroke her face like a lover. And that gave him a pang of guilt.

But then she rose up onto her knees so her entire delicious body came briefly into view, before she bent down and engulfed his entire cock in her mouth. The warmth and wetness was overwhelming, and he let himself just revel in the sensation. The guilt was still there, but it was ... tolerable.

It was bad enough he had been fucking his son's wife for several weeks; although he had gotten used to that. The night she had seduced him all he had felt had been blind, self-destructive lust. Followed by overwhelming shame and guilt, which she had gradually assuaged by explaining to him that his son was a cuckold, who got sexual gratification from knowing his wife slept with other men. He didn't understand it at first, but as he learned more about it he began to get over the guilt.

He kept his hand on the side of her face as she worked her way up and down on him; his fingers entwined in her sandy hair, his thumb stroking her temple.

Affectionately. That was where the guilt came in. The sex ... well, he had come to terms with the idea that he was going to take all of that that he could get. But he was starting to think of this woman as his lover, and that still felt ... wrong. But inescapable.

He thought that if she kept this up, he might soon cum in her mouth, which he had not yet done, and he knew the right thing to do would be to give her a warning. But before he could speak, she came back up off of him, made eye contact, and gave him a smile. Her lips were pink and full, especially the bottom one. Then she returned her gaze to his cock, looking at it with fascination and appreciation as she continued to work his foreskin up and down over his knob.

"I just love your cock," she told him. Such a simple statement, but he didn't think he had ever heard it before. "So ... male."

"Hmm. I love ... that you feel that way." She certainly had a way of making him believe it.

"So masculine," she continued, alternating her words of praise with slow, worshipful licks. "So potent."

"Potent?" he blurted out. He hadn't meant to release that admission of his self-consciousness about his age.

But she took it in stride, turning it to his advantage. "Oh, yeah. You know, it really excites me to think about pleasing a cock that's been making babies since before I was born."

He closed his eyes and let the eroticism of that statement wash over him. Jesus, he thought, she had this incredible ability to turn his insecurity into arousal. He was beginning to get used to the idea that he might actually be attractive to a woman barely half his age. She seemed to enjoy reminding him of that. The more time they spent together, the more addicted he became to her, the more she also seemed to enjoy reminding him of the illicit nature of their encounters.

He was gradually beginning to believe that somehow, his smart, bookish oldest son did in fact get some kind of perverse pleasure from knowing that his wife was enjoying other men. And his daughter-in-law was definitely enjoying it, he had no doubt about that. But she seemed intent on drawing him into not just accepting the sex but focusing on the taboo nature of these liaisons. And, it seemed to be starting to work.

That was where the weirdness came in. But, God damn, he thought; if that was the price he had to pay to be having the hottest sex of his life with a beautiful woman barely half his age, he was going to roll with it.

She rose up again. "I want you inside me," she intoned, assertively. Agreeable, he started to get up on his elbows to change positions and mount her, but she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. Okay. But then she stepped with both knees over his right thigh, so she was no longer between his legs at all. She gave him one more lascivious smile, and then turned around and swung her left leg over him, so she was facing away from him. She rose up on her knees so she could grab his cock again, and work it into position beneath her.

"Huh," he observed, with a hitch in his voice.

"Reverse cowgirl," she affirmed. "You like this position?"

"I ... I've never tried it," he admitted. He was reluctant to admit how shallow his sexual experience was, but he was learning that she enjoyed finding out just how vanilla his marital bed had been, as if corrupting him was part of the thrill.

"Well, I hope you enjoy it," she said.

He certainly enjoyed the view, he thought, as he admired her round ass, with the creases where the bottoms of her cheeks met the backs of her thighs still well defined as she remained upright, positioning herself. He couldn't see her face. He couldn't see her delicious breasts. There was an anonymity to this view that felt suddenly even more illicit.

Then she got the head of his cock where she wanted it, and began to sink down on him, slowly and luxuriously, and he relished the sweet tight grip on his shaft as he entered his son's wife again. She let out a low, exaggerated moan as she settled down firmly on his lap. "God, I love the way you fill me up."

He loved it too. He focused on the view. Spectacular. Sitting upright, his daughter-in-law had two amazing dimples in the small of her back. He had noticed them before, but they had never before so obviously called out to him to place his thumbs in them. He did so, circling his fingers around over her hipbones so he could control her movements, but he simply let her continue to rise and fall at her own pace.

And then he focused on the incredible sight of her pussy stretched around his shaft and she moved up and down ... her inner labia, moist and rose-colored, clinging to him on the upstroke, then disappearing back inside her as she lowered herself back down onto his patch of increasingly-moist pubic hair. And focused on the peachy smoothness of her outer labia, recently shaved for her -- and his -- pleasure.

He had never been with a woman who shaved her pussy before. It wasn't common before he was married. Michelle kept a neatly trimmed triangle above her slit, but from there down she was bare, and oh, so sensitive. Or, at least, she seemed to relish the feel of his lips and his moustache on her more than his wife or any other woman ever had.

"You like that?" she had asked, two weeks ago as he went down on her during their second time together. He had responded with a desperate, affirmative moan.

"It drove Ryan wild preparing me that way, knowing where I was going this week," she had continued. It had been the first time she had so blatantly reminded him that his son knew about them, and he had simultaneously become a bit nauseous, but also almost spurted onto the sheets. Now, as she continued to ride him, as he continued to admire her adorable backside, remembering that this was his son's wife was serving only to arouse him further.

Suddenly she reached down between her legs and he felt her hand close around his testicles, squeezing them softly, manipulating them around inside his scrotum.

"Another reason I like this position," she said. And quickly, he felt, indeed, *potent.*

Then she stopped at the bottom of a stroke, and bent forward. Her back disappeared from his view, and he felt her hair tickling his feet. He also felt his cock being forced down, almost uncomfortably, pressing against the dorsal side of her vagina. The pressure on the root of his shaft was intense, radiating all the way down to his perineum.

"God, I love the way that feels," she gasped. "It's like you're re-arranging my insides."

"Huhhh," he groaned, aroused by the imagery of her last words, but also realizing that he was suddenly mesmerized by the view of her perfect rosebud of an anus.

Oh, God. Anal sex was another fantasy that he had given up on years ago, and now he was realizing that that forbidden pleasure was probably his for the taking.

This was her third visit to him in six weeks, and so far he had always let her take the lead, but now he found himself placing the forefinger of his right hand into his mouth, and then moving his hand back to her ass and softly touching her asshole. She had been moving up and down, only an inch at a time, but she gasped and clenched at his touch. But she quickly uttered, "Oh, God, yes," and so he proceeded to gently rotate his finger from side to side and push forward.

She was tight but yielding. After he got past his first knuckle, he felt the cavity inside her widen, and he could crook his finger and feel the soft billows of her insides accommodating him. He could feel the thick hardness of his shaft through the narrow membrane. She moaned again, and moved forward enough that his cock slipped out a bit, until he could feel the ridge of his corona as he penetrated her past his second knuckle.

"Oh, God," Michelle moaned, and immediately he felt her anus gripping his finger, and then her vagina grasping his cock, one after the other, in counterpoint.

"Jesus, I'm cumming," she groaned. He held still so he could enjoy the contractions, lasting for long moments, feeling them crest and subside. She sighed deeply.

"Could you feel that?"

Of course he could. He could always tell when she came with him. It was part of what made the sex so incredible.

"Yes," he said, slowly pulling his finger back out of her. "Michelle ... can you turn around for me?"

"Yeah," she agreed, and slowly came back upright, then turned on trembling legs, squatting, working to keep his cock at least slightly inside her as she rotated back around to face him. She seated herself fully on him, upright again, and he felt like he was up under her heart. He reached up and took her face between both palms, and drew her head down. She parted her lips willingly as he drove his tongue into her mouth, penetrating her mouth in rhythm with his thrusts into her body.

This position felt more natural to him, and he began drive into her with more urgency. She felt it coming, and pulled away from the kiss long enough to say, "Cum in me, John. Fill me up."

And so he did, grasping her hips and holding her to him tightly as his orgasm finally swept over him and he ejaculated powerfully into his son's wife.

***

Afterwards, after he caught his breath, she dismounted and curled up under his right arm, her head on his chest, her right hand playing with his chest hair. They lay there that way for several minutes.

Finally, she glanced up at the bare white wall above his bed. "You know, mister, you really need to get some artwork on these walls."

He laughed. He had been in his "bachelor" apartment for six months now, and hadn't really thought about that. "Helping John paint his apartment" had been her excuse for her bi-weekly midweek three-hour drives to his city for the past few weeks, she had told him, although they hadn't got much painting done. At this rate, he thought, he was going to burn up his vacation days by the end of the summer. He couldn't imagine a better use for them.

"Let's take a break and go do some shopping," she said.

"Okay," he agreed, although he was content to just stay here. "Did you bring your ... shopping outfit?"

She laughed and patted his chest. "Yes. You liked that, didn't you?"

Indeed he did. He thought back to her first visit, four weeks ago. After the seduction, after several hours of assuaging his guilty conscience by explaining in some detail about her unique marital arrangement with his son, they had actually gone to buy paint. And she had stunned him by pulling on a pair of jeans, and then, without putting on a bra, slipping on a sheer, skin-tight black mesh top that left nothing to the imagination.

"You're going out like that?" he had gasped.

"Yes," she had stated, matter-of-factly; but then she had also pulled on a fitted brushed leather jacket that covered her nipples, but still left her magnificent cleavage and her belly visible all the way down below her navel. And that's what she had worn as she accompanied him, arm in arm, to the hardware store; and his discomfort had slowly transformed into an excited pride as the unsettled stock boys eyed her for the next hour.

Still lying entwined after a few more minutes, John ventured a question. "So do you wear that outfit shopping with Ryan?" It was the first time he had initiated involving his son in a conversation.

He could feel her smiling. "He wishes. No, that's a thrill I reserve for other men."

He slowly shook his head. No, he still didn't get it.

"The denial is part of the fun, for both of us," she explained, picking up on John's gesture. "I mean, I don't deny him permanently. Some women who play this game do -- they cut off their cuckolds completely. Neither one of us is into that. Or at least, I'm certainly not. He would probably love it, for a while. But that's not how we play."

"That's good," John said. He had never contemplated willingly sharing a woman before, but he really didn't want to be depriving his son of sex.

She sat up beside him, and ran her hand through her hair, causing her breasts to rise and bounce delightfully a couple of times. It was like she had sensed that he was finally verbalizing his curiosity, and she wanted to encourage that.

"Now, sometimes, when I'm playing with a guy for a few weeks, Ryan realizes that he has to play second fiddle, and that gets him all worked up. He never gets to have me for several days before a date."

"I can see how that would be ... frustrating," John said.

"I'm sure it is," she agreed. "But, you know, it's fun to torment him; but I've also come to understand that for him, it really is like having long, slow tantric sex. He told me once that being teased and denied while I prepared for a date was like getting a week-long handjob."

John laughed at that. Michelle put her hand on his thigh, inches from where his flaccid cock lay, spent and slumbering. "It's the psychological aspect of it that he just can't resist,' she continued. "I hesitate to call it humiliation. He doesn't do well with all that 'pathetic loser, sissy cuck' stuff you see on the internet. But, the idea of being 'put in his place' really gets to him. He says it's like what bunjee-jumping must be like."

"I've never wanted to try bunjee-jumping," John commented.

"Me neither. But I can certainly see why it's thrilling. So, you see, your son is quite a thrill-seeker, isn't he?"

John sensed that his daughter-in-law was working to explain her husband's motivations, to repair any damage that their taboo encounters had done to his perceptions of his son. He acknowledged that he preferred to push those thoughts out of his mind entirely, to focus on the amazing sex that she had been providing to him.

"He loves the rush of going over the cliff," she said. "Not just letting go of control ... but having it taken away from him."

"I see," John replied, although he didn't quite.

"The thing is, he really is my soul-mate, corny as that sounds. I'm never going to leave him. And I'm really pretty sure he understands that. But I do love finding ways to push him beyond his own imagination."

Well, John thought to himself, I think we've probably done that.

"I really won't ... date men who don't understand that," she continued. "But I do like finding guys who get the game and are willing to help me push the limits.

"For instance, I was seeing a guy for a while who decided to tell Ryan that from now on, *he* was going to be the only man who got to have me bareback. Ryan could still have access to me, but he had to wear a condom. That drove him absolutely wild."

"I can imagine."

"But he went along with it! Until I decided I was done with that game.

"So far, I haven't been with a man who actually insisted that I deny Ryan completely. But I'm sure that would just really send him over the edge."

John nodded, uncomfortable with where this was going. So he tried to steer the conversation in another direction.

"And what you get out of this is...?"

Michelle laughed and patted his chest. "You have to ask?

"Look, I love the sex, the variety, the newness ... I like being treated like a queen by a guy who is excited about the newness of me. But I have to admit ... there's something extra hot about being with a guy who's actually *getting off* on the fact that he's taking another man's wife. It's just more intense. More powerful."

John considered that. He wondered if she found sex with him intense and powerful. He knew that once he mounted her, he felt vigorous and driven; and he was fairly sure that the orgasms that she consistently moaned out were real. But he was also always following her lead. Then, as if she could read his mind, she added, "Look, I blew Ryan's mind the first time I came to see you. Why do you think I keep coming back?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a stallion," she said, leaning over to kiss him.

He snorted. "An old warhorse, maybe."

"A warhorse stallion," she corrected. "I've got a lovely quarterhorse at home, but you're my big, virile Percheron."

God, she's good, he thought. She put her head back down on his shoulder, all talk of shopping having gone by the wayside. "So, anyway," she said after a moment, "You do need to come visit us again sometime."

Yeah, that thought had occurred to him before. Usually in the context of feeling that he could never go back there again.

"God, that would be weird."

"Weird. Exciting. Most people would say that what we're doing right now is pretty weird, and you don't seem to be complaining."

"I don't know what I would say to him," John mused.

"Maybe nothing. Power exchange is always hotter when no words are spoken."

"Power exchange?" John asked.

"Yeah," she grinned. "We can just do all the usual stuff, drinks, dinner, talk about work and TV shows, and then I'll bring him a set of towels and tell him he'll be in the guest room."

Well, she still has the power to shock me, he thought. He could feel his pulse quickening. He felt his penis beginning to stir against his thigh.

"It's just a game," she assured him. "Just an adult game, just for the three of us."

Wow, he thought. And he suddenly thought, so this is what the young executives at work mean when they use the term "paradigm shift.'