My Son's MILF Mother-in-law Ch. 02

I smiled with what I was going to say next.

"Glenlivet twenty-one," I said with pride. "It was a gift from a friend."

I waited for her to make a twenty-something-year-old comment, but she didn't. Obviously, she had more class than that to take a cheap shot at her host bedding women half his age.

"I'm impressed. I've had Glenlivet 18 before but never 21. I'm sure they had that at some of the parties that I attended but mindful of not getting drunk, I was more interested in making connections that would help me get an acting role," she said. "Something they'd always remember and would never forget, not wanting to be the gangbang entertainment, the last thing I wanted to do was to lose control, stripped naked, and photographed while attending one of those parties."

She held her glass higher to look at the color while smelling the bouquet.

"Yeah, well, along the way, I tried many of them. I waffled back and forth between Glenlivet 12 and Glenfiddich 12, that is, until I discovered Glenlivet 18. There's a huge difference between the 12 and the 18 but a very subtle difference between the 18 and the 21. Yet, once you go from 12 to 18, you just can't go back to 12. I received this 21-year-old bottle as a gift," I said.

She lifted her glass as if toasting me to look at the color and smell the bouquet before taking another sip.

"It's nice having friends with money," she said with a sexy laugh. "Something I never had and struggled with all of my life, money eluded me. Yet, I'm comfortable enough now," she said.

I watched her uncross her legs and cross them the other way. As if she was Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, every time she slowly uncrossed and crossed her legs she deliberately or inadvertently flashed me her white panties.

"Most people can't taste the difference between 18 and 21 and if you can't tell the difference than you can save some money by sticking with the 18, but I can. The 21 is lighter and is so much smoother that it's almost syrupy sweet," I said still going on about the scotch.

I hadn't been with such a beautiful woman in a long time and I was nervous. I was talking too much and talking too much about scotch. She's going to think that I'm full of myself or worse, a drinker, even worse, a drunk, when I'm not any of those things anymore.

"Well, I see you know your scotch, as well as your women."

Hmm, what did she mean by that? Maybe she's not as classy as I thought she was. Maybe in the way that I'm a whoremonger, she's a whore. I let her remark pass. Omitting all the innuendos, I didn't want to start a game of tit for tat. Maybe she knew about the young women I dated and was referring to that.

# # #

"Excuse me for a moment," I said.

I got up and went to the kitchen and took out the food that I had ready in the fridge, a plate of cheese and crackers and a plate of fruit and vegetables. I opened a bottle of bubbly while, after a few drinks, hoping we'd be doing something sexually erotic with the fruit and vegetable plate. Suddenly, I imagined Elizabeth lying on my dining room table naked but for a couple of Ritz crackers on her nipples and a thick celery stalk covering her pussy. I imagined her covering my cock with whipped cream, as she...

'Stop it! What the Hell is wrong with you,' I thought?

Maybe because I was nervous being alone with my son's mother-in-law, but the letch that I am, I found myself staring at her legs, especially every time she crossed and uncrossed them. She had such long, shapely, and sexy legs and I was horny. I was always horny. I hadn't had sex since my last girlfriend moved out and here sitting across from me was some fresh meat, albeit a woman my age instead of a woman half may age. Nonetheless, she still looked tender rather than tough.

Indeed, she had great legs. I was glad she wasn't wearing pantyhose. I hate pantyhose. No doubt, pantyhose was invented by a gay fashion designer because no heterosexual man would ever invent pantyhose. All heterosexual men would rather see panty clad pussies than pussies concealed by pantyhose.

Yet, much sexier than just wearing panties beneath her short skirt, I was titillated that she was wearing nylons and garters. Every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs when she wasn't flashing me the tops of her nylons and garters, she was flashing me a quick up-skirt peek of her white panties. Between her white gloves, her nylons and garter belt, and flashes of her white panties, Elizabeth was one sexy mama.

By rubbing her thighs together in the way of a grasshopper, wondering if she was secretly masturbating herself every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs, she crossed her legs yet again. Only, this time, she crossed her legs slower and more deliberately. Was she sexually teasing me? I wondered if she was deliberating flashing me her panty clad crotch? While hoping she was, I wondered if she was as much of an exhibitionist as I was a voyeur.

Perhaps that first scotch went straight to her head. Then, when sipping her second drink, it was as if the effect was a slow knuckleball, instead of a 100-mph fastball thrown right down the middle of home plate. With her a little glassy eyed, I saw the top of her nylons, the clip of her garter belt, and the triangular patch of bright white panties again. Seeing a flash of her bright, white panties made me so horny. Seeing a flash of her bright, white panties made me want to have sex with her.

'Oh, Baby, Mommy is an erotic, sexy bitch,' I thought mesmerized while staring at all that she was showing as if I was hypnotized.

With her no longer careful how she was sitting, her knees were parted enough to give me a continual view of her panty clad crotch. Suddenly, my cock grew to my new appreciation of her sexy lingerie and of her flashing me. Then, with the thought of her white gloves that lay hidden in her purse, I wanted her to don her sexy white gloves again. Suddenly, between her white gloves and her sexy lingerie, I saw her in a whole new light.

'Hello, sexy MILF of a mother-in-law,' I thought.

Making my cock throbbing and hard, all that I could think about is Elizabeth flashing me her bright, white panties. Damn, I haven't seen a garter belt since the sixties. I didn't even know they still made them. She must have sent away special and ordered it from Frederick's of Hollywood, along with those white gloves. Now, I couldn't help but wonder if she wore her sexy lingerie and those white gloves to bed. I couldn't help but wonder if she wore her lingerie and those white gloves especially for me.

"May I freshen your drink?"

She uncrossed her legs and flashed me her panties again when leaning forward.

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you," she said handing me her glass.

# # #

When not preoccupied with her panties I was preoccupied with her white gloves, when I saw her naked hand, I wished she was still wearing those damn, sexy gloves. I'd love to fill her white, gloved hand with my hard, erect cock. I'd love her to give me a white, gloved hand job and a white gloved blowjob. I'd love to cum all over her white gloves.

'Gees, that's enough. I need to stop thinking that way about Jennifer's mother in such a disrespectful, sexual way,' I berated myself yet again.

We sat there talking while sipping our scotches, eating cheese and crackers, and fruits and vegetables. It was getting late, well after 1:00 am and Elizabeth was working on her third scotch, a double. Actually, they were all doubles and she suddenly looked as if she was feeling the effects of the drinks. That 21-year-old scotch has a way of sneaking up on you.

Suddenly, I remembered her telling me over the phone that her daughter, Jennifer, was unable to hold her alcohol. Now, watching Elizabeth begin to nod off and slumping to the side, I knew where Jennifer got her inability to handle her liquor. Not wanting to disturb her, with her knees parted, her short skirt raised higher than the tops of her nylons, and her panties exposed, I was enjoying the view.

"C'mon, let's get you off to bed," I said standing.

As soon as I said the words, C'mon, let's get you off, I thought about getting her off by masturbating her while in bed. I'd love nothing more than to strip this sexy bitch naked. I love nothing more than to touch and feel her everywhere while she was sleeping.

'Stop it,' I thought! 'How dare I think that way but I was horny? I needed to focus my thoughts elsewhere. I need to act like the gentleman that I need to be to impress her and win her heart. A respectable, quality woman, Elizabeth is the mother of my deceased son's deceased wife, Jennifer.'

"Oh, I'm not tired, yet. I could go all night," she said suddenly appearing wide awake but while slurring her words. "I'm having a relaxing time talking to you."

She hadn't said anything in the last ten minutes.

"Okay," I said.

She was nodding off.

"Let's have one for the road," she said holding up her glass. "Shall we?"

I stood to make her a drink.

"Okay, sure."

I made her a fresh drink, a small one this time and, in just a few minutes, I watched her down the last of it. Then, her eyes closed and her mouth opened. As if I had drugged her, she fell fast asleep. If I was a pervert, I'd walk over to her and stick my cock in her sleeping mouth but, in memory of her daughter and my son, I couldn't do that to Jennifer's mother.

# # #

I sat in my favorite catbird seat, where I prefer sitting, when entertaining an attractive woman wearing a short skirt while hoping she'd flash me her panties. She sat across from me on the soft sofa and I sat higher up in my Queen Anne chair. If Elizabeth was showing anything, I'd see it from this angle.

Not one to disappoint me, towards the end of the last drink, she had become a bit careless about the arrangement of her skirt and the way that she was sitting. No longer sitting like a lady with her knees cemented closed, she sat with her knees parted enough to give me a continual view of her bright, white panties.

'Hello sexy Mama,' I thought.

Especially now with her above the knee length skirt had risen to the middle of her thighs, she was giving me a real voyeur in between her legs show of herself. Continually, she flashed me her white panty and with the scotch weaving its magic on me, too, if she wasn't shy about showing, I wasn't shy about looking. I stared at her exposed crotch, while wondering what she'd look like without her clothes and what she'd taste like with her lying on her back and her legs spread and draped down my shoulders.

It was all so very erotic seeing flashes of her nylon and garter that culminated in me seeing her bright, white panty and that further rewarded me with the display of her camel toed crotch. Between the alcohol and my innate horniness, she was turning me on a bit. Imagining that I was there with Catherine Zeta Jones and Sofia Vergara combined as one, I so wanted to sit next to her on the couch and play tongue hockey with her. I imagined running a slow hand over her bra clad breasts, before slowly sliding my hand down her slim waistline to her panty clad pussy.

With one hand feeling her breasts while fingering her nipples through her blouse and bra, I imagined running my meaty palm down and up her skirt to her panties. I imagined my long, experienced fingers pushing the edge of her panties out of the way for me to explore and deftly part her moist pussy lips with my probing fingertips. I imagined rubbing her clit and fingerfucking her wet pussy. I imagined masturbating her and giving her a sexual orgasm with my fingers before giving her second, sexual orgasm with my tongue, and a third, sexual orgasm with my cock.

'Stop it! Stop it, now,' I thought while berating myself again for having such perverse thoughts. 'This is crazy.'

Now, almost 2:00 am it was so very late and she was slouching again.

"You need some rest, Elizabeth. C'mon, let's put you to bed."

She looked up at me with glazed, half-opened eyes.

"Okay," she said now with her legs fully spread wide open as if she was a drunken sailor.

When she struggled to stand from the softness of the sofa, I reached out my hand to take her arm.

"Let me give you a hand," I said with a devious smile.

To be continued...