Only Myself to Blame

Until last week my relationship with son-in-law Mark had been a model of propriety and I've only got myself to blame for that changing. My staying over with he and my daughter Julie was far from unusual -- their house provides a handy base for shopping trips to the city -- similarly, they and quite often Mark alone, will spend the night at our house; Mark's been dealing with a project that's near to our home, so has stayed with us one and sometimes two nights, during most weeks for the past six months. With my husband Roger jetting all over Europe for his business, there have been more than a few of those visits when it's just been the two of us there, but Mark had never once suggested, or given any indication that he might see my in any other light than that of his Mother-in-Law.

I'd had a long and busy day around the stores on Wednesday and with similar planned for the following day, I headed to bed early, in fact not very long after we'd eaten dinner, so it wasn't even midnight when I awoke needing to use the bathroom. Whilst I didn't notice anything as I walked down the landing, on the way back a distinct squeal just as I was passing the door to Mark & Julie's bedroom caught my attention. The sound was in no way suspicious -- a squeal of delight rather than discontent -- and I ought properly and politely to have ignored it and returned to my own room, but to my discredit I instead stopped and eaves-dropped outside their door.

My suspicions were soon confirmed, what I was overhearing were undoubtedly the sounds of love-making, albeit muted, that no doubt being in deference to my presence in their house; yet shamefully I still loitered. I saw that the door wasn't fully closed and whilst I certainly didn't push it, I might perhaps have accidentally brushed against it causing the door to swing open a few inches wider. I could now betters hear the unmistakable sounds of their congress and through the gap created between the hinged edge of the door and its frame, I had a view of the bed. Yes I know it was frightfully rude of me to watch Mark & Julie at play, particularly in the privacy of their own home, but I was simply unable to look away.

The room was rather dimly lit and as I was looking from beyond the foot of their bed, I really couldn't see very much at all, but along with the sounds and whispered words that I caught, it wasn't difficult to build a picture in my mind. Julie was on her knees, her face buried in the pillows, whilst Mark towering above, penetrated her from behind, in what I believe is called 'doggy-style'; not a position in which Roger and I have ever indulged -- our sex life's never been other than staid and conservative -- but one, which I've often encountered during my discrete journeys around the internet. I was at least, getting an excellent view of Mark's long muscular thighs, and his tight slim bum; which was every bit as pert and attractive as I'd imagined, those imaginings having perhaps coincided indecently often with my aforementioned visits to the internet's more salacious sites?

The pace of their lovemaking, along with my own heart rate increased rapidly and perhaps from the strength of my breathing, their bedroom door somehow eased itself open a few inches further still; things were clearly approaching a crescendo for us all. Despite Julie's face being buried in the pillows, her moans and gasps of delight were clearly audible and perhaps in response to their encouragement, Mark was fairly pounding himself into her accommodating body, whilst I mutely watched, enthralled and with perhaps just a hint of envy. It was evident that Mark too was swiftly approaching his climax and in his excitement he'd clearly forgotten, or perhaps no longer cared about the noise level; I would've been able to hear Mark's bold exclamations even from my own room as he rode Julie ever harder, swinging one hand above his head like some rodeo rider trying to maintain balance.

It was in the very moment that Julie loudly orgasmed, that realisation finally dawned...

Mark wasn't randomly waving his arm around, but was instead pointing repeatedly to his left; swinging my eyes in that direction, I could see through the partially opened door in a direct line to Julie's dressing table mirror which afforded me a reflected profile view of Mark and Julie locked together on the bed. Whilst that view was still somewhat veiled by the low light levels, it certainly afforded a more complete picture than I'd previously been enjoying, but that alas, was the end of the good news. What was also reflected in that mirror and this time clearly lit, indeed almost 'spotlighted' by the landing lights, was the view of their middle-aged voyeur skulking behind the bedroom door, with one hand bunching the hem of her nightdress about her hips, whilst the other was starkly outlined by her tightly stretched panties as it scrabbled furiously between her legs.

To make matters worse -- as if that were possible! - I was at that point where I could no longer stop! Mark and I locked eyes in the mirror as he with an animalistic roar and a final thrust, unloaded his seed deep inside Julie's receptive gash, whilst with frenziedly probing fingers fairly tearing against my clitoris, I too reached a lip-bitingly silent, but equally powerful climax. The door swung open even wider as I slumped exhausted against its frame, gasping for breath and searching for equilibrium, though fortunately when I managed to raise my head, it was to find Julie's face still buried in the pillows. Mark though was still looking directly towards the mirror, a grin spreading across his face as our eyes met once more and he tossed a huge wink in my direction; I was mortified and promptly turning away, I fled back to the sanctuary of my own bedroom.

I seemed to be lay awake for half the night and whilst I told myself that it was disgust and self-loathing at my earlier behaviour which continually interrupted my sleep, far too often those ruminations concluded with fingers once again delving into my panties, whilst I recalled Marks trim backside pumping. So, I was barely lying when I intercepted Julie on the landing next morning and pleaded a 'disturbed night' as my reason for not joining she and Mark for breakfast as usual. I used the same excuse to explain away my intention of taking my bags with me into the city, leaving them at the left-luggage office for the day and then going directly home that evening, instead of staying over for a second night as planned. When Julie accepted my excuses without apparent suspicion, I heaved a large sigh of relief; Mark clearly hadn't said anything about my voyeurism to Julie and though I would have to face Mark again at some point, at least that wouldn't be today.

I stayed in bed until I heard Mark & Julie leaving, then watched from behind the curtains as they walked down the road together towards the railway station; even then I cowered in my room for a further thirty minutes until I was certain that they'd each caught their respective trains and were safely on their ways to work. Downstairs for a restorative cup of tea, then it was into the bathroom for a much needed shower; the night had left me sweat-soaked and dirty, I felt soiled by the events, both figuratively and literally. It was well after nine when wrapped in a bath sheet, I returned to my bedroom and whilst I'd seen and heard nothing, I was barely three or four paces into the room when I sensed the presence; I turned to see the door swing slowly closed as Mark -- wearing a grin to match last night's! - stepped forward from behind it, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.

"W...wh.. why have you come back? You should be at work; wha.. what do you want?" I managed to stammer.

Mark's cocksure grin never wavered: "Oh come on Sheila, I don't think it'll take you three guesses to answer that question for yourself."

Indeed I could, but rather than do so I moved back toward the door, not that I got very far; Mark grabbed at my shoulder and in the same moment snatched at my towel, whereupon I staggered backward to land in an untidy and naked heap upon the bed. Mark was quick to follow and after only the briefest of struggles he had me subdued, I was laid on my back, legs pinned down by the weight of his left leg across my thighs whilst my arms were restrained above my head in his strong right hand. Mark's grin disappeared as his eyes ran slowly back and forth along the length of my naked form, before locking back on my own as he spoke: "Jeez Sheila, I've always thought you were a bit tasty, but I never imagined that you'd look this hot."

Both good sense and common decency demanded that I should be appalled at my situation, but with Mark's words ringing in my ears and his free hand ranging gently across my naked breasts, teasing at each nipple with his fingers as it passed, I found myself moaning and squirming with delight rather than in protest and resistance, as I surely ought? As Mark's hand slipped south across my belly, his head lowered and his mouth closed about the first of my erect nipples, his lips transferring their attention to the second as his hand dropped below my waistline. As Mark's fingers raked through the coarse hair of my pubis to tease at my swollen labia I made no effort to thwart his outrageous violation, rather I wantonly jerked my hips from the mattress in a shameless effort to meet their intrusion; no doubt this further show of my acquiescence was what prompted Mark to release my pinioned hands and legs?

It proved a fruitful decision on Mark's part: Immediately my hands were released I sunk one into his curly dark hair, pulled his face up to meet mine and kissed him passionately, whilst the other plunged brazenly into the front of his boxer-shorts, the fingers wrapping about the length of his stiff shaft; or they tried to at least, Mark felt awfully large in comparison to what I'd known with my husband! My disencumbered thighs had meanwhile parted without demur, allowing Mark's fingers to slide easily into my well lubricated channel; whilst a second buck of the hips along with an evocative entreaty of "Oh God, yessss!" provided suitable incitation to ensure that Mark's next intrusion was both harder and deeper than the first. I was by then on fire! With no thought for either my devoted husband or my lovely daughter, I was all but tearing Mark's boxer shorts off him; I wanted that fat cock inside me and I wanted it NOW!

I presume that Mark was as eager as I when he quickly lifted his hips and leaned down to drag those hindering boxers away, though he might simply have been protecting them from the inevitable destruction of my own frenzied onslaught; how would he have explained that to Julie? I was invitingly splaying my legs wider and with my free right hand dragging Mark atop me even as he recovered and with his rigid shaft still gripped firmly in my left, I was guiding that into my craving vulva the moment that he was there and accommodating Mark's glorious penetration but an instant later. The primal growls of release which we simultaneously uttered in that moment gave voice to the lustful desire which had grown in each of our bellies through the preceding night. My own swiftly transmuting into an orgasmic scream as I achieved the climax that I so badly needed; Mark, thank God -- or perhaps thanks to Julie's attentions of the previous evening? - proved much better able to maintain his self-control.

Almost to his own detriment, Mark waited patiently through my slow descent from the stratosphere, as toward it's end I visualised the faithful, trusting faces of both my husband & daughter and the magnitude of my transgression hit home; this wasn't some minor impropriety, I'd wantonly spread my legs in shameless accommodation of my own Son-in-Law! Had Mark been but an instant later in re-commencing, I suspect that my morality would've held sway and seen me protesting and trying to fight off his assault. But once Matt's fresh penetration drove home I was lost, the protests demanded by ten thousand years of social evolution being quelled in an instant as more primeval instructions issued from my vagina to spread rapidly through my willing body; the alpha-male had claimed his mate and she was eager to receive his seed.

Our union itself proved similarly regressive: What began as measured and cultured lovemaking soon slipped into a harder, faster and altogether rougher fornication, before descending into barbaric copulation; by its end we were fucking like animals! Responsibility for that too should be laid firmly at my own door, as over the next few minutes I behaved like an utter tart, inciting, indeed goading Mark both physically and verbally, to use me like a whore. Perhaps it was self-loathing at what I'd become; having behaved like a bitch in heat, I felt that I ought to be treated like one? My language was appalling -- more than once I saw even Mark's eyebrows raise! - voicing words that I've never used before or since. But they achieved their goal and when a second orgasm ripped through me but a few minutes later, my screams of release were all but drowned out by the primal roar which Mark vented; the same one that I'd heard last night as he'd similarly unloaded his seed into my daughter's receptive womb.

Our recovery was a while in coming, it's first sign being a clearly now penitent Mark, rolling off me and mumbling an apology for his behaviour; my response was to lift his face to look directly into mine and give him a comforting smile, before lavishing the most lascivious kiss I could manage upon his lips. Mark's smile too slowly revived as I gave him ample reassurance that I neither condemned him nor bore any malice toward him for what'd happened; I knew that I'd only got myself to blame and had got exactly what I deserved, or perhaps in truth, exactly what I'd wanted. My own regrets and self recrimination certainly returned of course, but they arrived much later and remained conspicuous by their absence as we lay in bed that morning. It seems that having 'guessed that I was up for it' Mark had watched Julie depart on her train to work, before telephoning his own office to leave a message advising that he'd be late getting in and then discretely returned.

As our conversation quietly flowed, my eyes were drawn to Mark's naked body, it was the first clear view that I'd had of his cock and it certainly seemed that the impression gained earlier by my searching fingers had been correct, even laid flaccid on his thigh it was far bigger than my husband's. A glance at the clock told me that from what Mark'd said, he needed to be leaving in a half-hour, or perhaps forty minutes if he ran to the train station; gently trailing my fingers along the length of his still-limp cock, I saw it twitch as I saucily enquired if he might perhaps be 'up for it' once more before he had to leave? The look on Mark's face at my brazen question was a picture, but recovering himself quickly, Mark nodded in the direction of his resting shaft and replied: "I'm sure we could manage... given the right encouragement"

Mark's answer wasn't specific, but it didn't need to be; I knew what he wanted and though this too was something which I'd never experienced in my life before, I'd seen it demonstrated on those internet videos often enough. I didn't hesitate for a moment and slid down the bed, already lifting Mark's limp prick as I descended and within seconds it'd passed between my receptive lips to nestle within my eager mouth. That first experience of oral sex relied upon my enthusiasm rather than ability, but I've always been a quick learner and taking direction from Mark's responses, I quickly had his fat cock once again rigid and more than 'up for it'. It looked and felt huge from this angle and I was hugely tempted to take Mark to conclusion -- watching those girls in the video-clips receiving powerful salvos of viscous semen in their faces and mouths is something of a favourite -- but I knew that wouldn't bring me the further orgasm that I craved. When I was confident that Mark was good to go, I once again scurried back up the bed and settled upon my knees, face laid on the pillow, with my inflamed and vulnerable pussy raised and exposed in a most assailable display.

Mark was laughing as he manoeuvred behind me and during the few moments he took to guide the head of that thick shaft between my labia he whispered: "Now why am I not surprised?" before driving himself home in a single aggressive thrust. Our first mating had concluded in something of a frenzy, but this time around it began that way too, yet it still somehow managed to become even more passionately violent before its end. Mark had clearly got my number, I'd no interest in gentle and decorous lovemaking -- I could get that at home with my devoted husband -- with Mark I wished to behave like a slut and have him treat me accordingly! I wasn't disappointed, with the self-control that our earlier coupling afforded him, Mark pounded into me like a man possessed, mauling at my breasts, slapping me on the backside and tugging at my disarrayed hair as he drove himself into me relentlessly.

I'd lost count of the number of times that I climaxed during Mark's assault, or indeed even how long that it actually lasted; by its end I was drenched in my own perspiration and Mark's and exhausted beyond belief. I likely might not even have noted Mark's own climax had he not punctuated it by ramming his thumb - or a perhaps a finger? - savagely into my bottom as he did so; that certainly regained my attention, though what did it portend for the future? As Mark's full weight bore down upon me I collapsed beneath him, pressed into the mattress I could barely breath; luckily it only lasted a few seconds, before I heard him exclaim "oh shit!" and Mark's weight was lifted. It seemed barely thirty seconds later -- I was still gasping for breath -- when I heard the front door slam and knew that Mark was gone; an exit perhaps befitting of our sordid congress?