Ravishing Fantasy - The Sequel

Sequel to my October 21, 2017 story.

*************

While I was cured of my ravaging fantasies – not only did they no longer interfere with my life, I never even had any at all – as a result of the ravaging reality that I was sure had been arranged by my misguided though probably well-meaning psychologist Mary Ross, I continued to be intrigued by the likelihood that two men that I knew had been participants. For some strange reason that only intrigued me; it didn't disturb me. If in fact the ravagers were guys that I knew, while I had several candidates for the guy with the regular sized dick, there was only one candidate for the horse cock – my daughter Sybil's boyfriend, Brent Lebel.

The ravaging reality, despite my initial irritation with Mary for setting it up, had no lasting adverse impact on me. In fact, I do believe that my already great relationship with my husband Jim got even better – and our already excellent sex life was also enhanced.

While I would have been interested in Brent's perspective on why he participated in the ravaging – if in fact he had – since he was Sybil's ex-boyfriend at the time of the ravaging in July, 2015 I did not consider it a betrayal of Sybil. Since Brent was polite, handsome, industrious, educated, and solicitous of both Sybil and me, my suspicion was not a realistic reason in late summer of 2017 to object to his renewed relationship with Sybil, or even after I started to suspect him in October, 2017.

Sybil and Brent became very close, and serious, once they renewed their relationship in 2017 two years after my ravaging reality. They got along great; so great that in October, 2018 they married. I couldn't have been happier for Sybil. She looked so beautiful and happy in her wedding dress, and Brent looked to be the epitome of a handsome groom. One unusual thing – it was not disturbing in any way, just interesting – was that Brent never, ever referred to me as his "mother-in-law," or never called me anything but "Amy." If he introduced me to people that I hadn't met he referred to me as his "friend, Amy." If I introduced him, I never called him my "son-in-law" but "Sybil's husband, Brent."

I never had a cross word with Brent, and on several occasions both he and Sybil individually expressed to me how pleased they were that Brent and I got along so well, and that I never interfered in their business but provided any advice or help that they needed.

Things went smoothly until about October, 2021. At that time Brent and Sybil were 25 and I was 49, although to be honest I felt as good as I ever had, and since I had cut back on work and increased my exercise regime, I thought that I looked better too. Brent often told Sybil in my presence that he hoped that she looked as good as I did when she was my age.

Around October, 2021 two things happened that were significant; Sybil announced that she was pregnant, which was welcome news to everyone in the family; and Jim got promoted, which was both good and bad news. While we had no monetary worries – one of the reasons I cut back at work – Jim was very goal oriented and was really pleased with the promotion. The bad thing about the promotion – for the first time in our married life he would have to travel significantly over the next year. Sometimes he would be gone as long as 10 days.

After a few months I was adjusting to Jim's travel, including by seeing Sybil and Brent at least a couple of times a week, when I got a call from a panicked Brent that Sybil had collapsed at work. At that point she was more than five months pregnant. Unlike me – who had no issues whatsoever in my two pregnancies, in fact I felt great during them – Sybil was not having a good time. The doctor recommended bed rest for the next three months until the baby was delivered, with only carefully monitored exercise.

While both Brent and Sybil had good jobs and were doing well financially for a mid-twenties couple, this was obviously going to put a strain on them. Jim and I suggested that they put most of the stuff from their apartment in storage and come to live in our very large house. Our son Jason was away at college – in his senior year – and we had plenty of room. In fact, we had a large sound-proof room on the first floor that was easily converted into a bedroom, with its own full bathroom. The other four large bedrooms were on the second floor.

Brent and Sybil were not hard to convince, especially since they had a month-to-month lease. They had saved enough money for a small house once the complications with the pregnancy were over if those complications didn't wipe out the savings. We arranged it so that we had a licensed practical nurse with Sybil during most weekdays, and either Brent or I was with her on late afternoons or evenings, and both of us were usually with her on weekends. When Jim was in town he did his share. We always were hospitable to friends or relatives dropping by to see Sybil; and one of the nurse, Brent, or me would do the twice daily limited exercises with Sybil that she was encouraged to do by her doctor. Brent or I would help her to the kitchen or dining room table for at least breakfast and dinner.

Things worked smoothly until Wednesday January 19, 2022. I had tucked Sybil into bed because Brent was coming back very late from out of town either that night or the next morning, and Jim wouldn't be back until the next week. I never heard Brent – who obviously had his own key – come in. When I woke up in the middle of the night I decided to check on Sybil. She looked fine – but I heard a noise coming from the bathroom in the downstairs bedroom, and curiosity got the best of me and I poked my head in the door. There was Brent, completely naked, masturbating as quietly as he could. I wasn't surprised by this because the doctor had effectively cut him off from sex with Sybil several months earlier (something that Sybil complained about to me on several occasions) so he had to be horny.

Fortunately Brent had his eyes closed, so I didn't think that he saw me. If he hadn't had his eyes closed he certainly would have, because I looked at him significantly longer than I should have. His extremely thick cock, and his large low-hanging balls, were fascinating. By the time that I quietly closed the door and started back to my room two things were clear – the first one 95% so, the second one 100%.

The 95% one – he owned the big dick that had ravaged me in July, 2015, and the big set of testicles that I uncontrollably fondled when I was blindfolded and forced to suck his cock.

The 100% one – my pussy needed immediate attention.

I hurriedly went back to my room and started playing with my clit, and stuck a small dildo up my pussy. Even if it hadn't been a week since I had sex with Jim the sight of Brent stroking his big cock while his balls swung back and forth would have been enough to put me over the edge. Disturbingly I was fantasizing that I was fucking Brent as I feverishly worked on my clit.

As I was close to release, I sensed something and opened my eyes. In the muted light of my small bedside lamp I saw a naked figure a few feet from my bed. The stiff thick cock pointing toward me left no doubt that it was Brent. Incredibly the fact that he was there didn't stop me from masturbating – it even encouraged me further. Within twenty seconds after I started staring at his rigid dick I had a massive orgasm – as debilitating as any I had ever had from pleasuring myself.

I closed my eyes and moaned, removed my hand from my clit, and withdrew the dildo from my pussy. It was a while before I was fully cognizant, but when I opened my eyes again, Brent was sitting on the side of the bed next to me. He gently turned my face toward him.

"Nice job, Amy! Who were you thinking of when you had that over-the-top orgasm. It was almost as intense as some of the orgasms you had when I participated in ravaging you in July, 2015," Brent said, not with a snicker, but with a lustful expression on his face.

Well that now changed from 95% to 100% the probability that he had fucked me in 2015. That realization had no negative impact on me although you would think that the average woman would be mortified to find out that her son-in-law had fucked her. "Brent – you shouldn't be here," I mumbled, in a semi-trance.

"Oh, but I should be, Amy. I've always had the hots for you, and ravaging you was, before tonight, the best experience of my life. Tonight things will be even better now that I know that you fantasize about me," he half-snarled.

"No, Brent – it would be so wrong..." was all I got out before he opened my naked thighs and stuck his tongue into my soaking wet pussy. I continued to say "no, no, no..." while weakly trying to push his head away from my crotch, every salvo of "nos" getting less convincing.

I was almost ready to climax again when he swung his crotch over my head and his low hanging ball sac dropped to within an inch of my face, while he continued tonguing my pussy and clit. That should have been the opportunity for me to get him off of me. Instead, I leaned up and took his balls into my mouth and hands like I was a starving woman and they were a nourishing meal.

The combination of Brent's tongue and fingers on and in my pussy, and the stimulation of his wonderful testicles, soon had me screaming in orgasm. Hopefully the scream was muted enough that sleeping Sybil downstairs couldn't have heard it.

By the time that the scream had dissipated Brent had swung around again, had lifted my calves onto his shoulders, and his thick cock was pushing at the entrance to my snug pussy. He penetrated inch-by-inch while simultaneously mauling my tits with his hands. I kept chanting "no, no, no," although I secretly knew that the last thing that I wanted was for him to stop.

Eventually his girthy meat filled my anxious pussy. Once that happened all my futile and insincere attempts to stop him subsided, and once he started stroking I started bucking back while simultaneously squeezing and releasing my pc muscles with crazed fury.

We didn't last long. After no more than a couple dozen strokes he was blasting the inside of my pussy with spurt after spurt of his man cream while I writhed around in ecstasy. When what was likely the longest continuous orgasm of my life finally subsided, I had dissolved into a limp pool of protoplasm, and he had been rendered an immobile grunting object, inert except for an occasional twitch due to an orgasmic aftershock.

I don't even remember Brent rolling off of me and consciously drifting off to sleep. However I do remember sometime before the next morning being lifted into doggy position and then that massive stiff weapon between Brent's legs penetrating my abused kitty again, and dissolving into another orgasm as he discharged many more salvos into its deepest recesses.

When I awoke the next morning, my mind was foggy. "Shit – did I really fuck my son-in-law twice with my pregnant daughter sleeping downstairs?" seemed to ricochet through my mind. I finally dragged my ass out of bed and noticed the hardened fluids on the sheets, and the trickle of cum down my thighs. I showered in an attempt to regain my composure and wash off all of the cum leaking from my pussy, and then dressed and trudged downstairs.

Sybil and Brent were sitting at the breakfast table. Sybil looked significantly more bright-eyed than Brent, but Brent had a glow of ultimate satisfaction.

"Hi lazy bones," Sybil chirped as she finished off an English muffin. "I was about to call the fire department to check up on you," she chuckled.

"Sorry – my sleep was interrupted several times last night," I grumbled; Brent got a fleeting grin on his face.

I kissed Sybil on the cheek; Brent rose from his chair and gave me a hug – which I accepted even though the bastard quickly ran his hand over my crotch as he hugged me.

I made myself a couple of eggs while we chatted. I sat down across from Sybil and next to Brent and the creep put his hand on my thigh – fortunately very surreptitiously. I never made an attempt to push his hand off. The three of us proceeded to have a normal breakfast table conversation, yet in the back of my mind the entire time I was thinking "How can I just be sitting here normally talking with my daughter and son-in-law just hours after he fucked my brains out?"

I never did successfully answer that question.

Brent left for work as soon as we finished eating. I helped Sybil with her morning exercises and stayed with her until the practical nurse came. Then I left for a half day of work – which turned into a full day at the office because half the time I couldn't work because I was wondering what to do about Brent. Of course intellectually I knew that I needed to put a stop to our having sex – it was so, so wrong on so many levels. However, my intellect wasn't in total control. "He is really, really fun to fuck, and it isn't hurting anybody," was my emotional weak and myopic counter to my intellect.

I hadn't really resolved anything by the time that I got home and relieved the nurse.

Brent and Sybil acted no differently than ever at dinner – which Brent and I made together without discussing the elephant in the room – and afterward. Brent and Sybil watched a movie together in their first floor bed, while I did a little work on my laptop, including some ridiculous searches on how to handle a horse-cocked son-in-law who had the hots for his mother-in-law – like there was really anything on the Internet that could provide any guidance in that regard.

About 10 p. m. I realized that I was exhausted from the wanton fucking I had received the previous night and the emotional turmoil that followed it, and went to bed. Surprisingly my conscience didn't bother me enough to keep me from falling asleep.

I guess that I should have locked the door to my bedroom – although probably a good case could be made that I subconsciously didn't want to – because sometime in the middle of the night, as I lay naked under the covers (undoubtedly another subconscious act) strong hands started rubbing my entire body. I complained until my hand "inadvertently" brushed up against a large stiff cock and accompanying set of golf-ball sized gonads. I stuffed as much cock into my mouth as I could fit while slowly manipulating the testicles to the sound of ever-increasingly frequent and loud groans.

I was abruptly detached from the cock and balls, lifted onto Brent's body as he lay on his back, and we both worked to slowly engulf his cock with my cunt. Once his girthy meat was buried it was off to the races, and a rewarding climax it was as we both apparently came like freight trains.

I was asleep shortly after I had successfully ridden Brent cowgirl style, only to be put in doggy position once again in the middle of the morning and have my pussy vigorously reamed by what I now knew was my favorite cock ever, resulting in another debilitating orgasm.

*************

During the term of Sybil's pregnancy whenever Jim was out of town I continued to receive middle of the night visits from Brent. I always initially protested and complained that we couldn't keep fucking our brains out, but I believed it less and less, and would have been disappointed if he didn't ravage me when visiting my bed. My enthusiastic, lewd, vigorous participation in the sexual gymnastics of course belied my perfunctory protestations, but I was able to somewhat excuse (actually delude) myself by rationalizing that I never initiated the encounters.

I knew eventually that we would have to have "a talk" about what was happening, but Brent never brought up the possibility of "a talk" and I put it off until circumstances with Sybil's pregnancy and Jim's travel eased up.

Sybil delivered a healthy beautiful little girl almost exactly on her due date. Everyone in the family was thrilled. Jim even cut back on his travel for two months, and my sister and me helped with little Rosalyn as best we could. Rosalyn's smiling face and agreeable demeanor brought joy to everyone that came in contact with her. Sybil loved nursing her, and Brent loved watching her nurse and sometimes playing with Rosalyn's toes while she did.

With the baby's schedule for feedings and attention, Sybil's increased level of activity including trying to make up for her months of bed rest, and Jim's lightened travel schedule, Brent made only two more late night visits to my bed before Sybil and Brent were ready to move back to their own house. Again I made my protestations when Brent fucked me, but my decadent and animated response to Brent's cock made my demurrers even more ridiculous and hollow than they had been before Rosalyn was born. For some reason I think that Brent was more encouraged than discouraged when after he fucked me senseless a first time, I devoured his cock until it was again a steel pipe and rode him without inhibition until he came in me a second time.

When Sybil and Brent moved into a small but very nice house three months after Rosalyn was born, and Sybil went back to work, there were no reasonable opportunities for Brent and I to engage in our obscene machinations. During this time I realized that I had gotten used to being fucked senseless by my stud of a son-in-law, and sorely missed it. The frequent times that I was around him there were obvious – at least to me – sparks between us, but we never did anything untoward in the presence of others. I suspect, however, that someone outside the family would think it strange that we could be as solicitous of each other's good will as we were; that is not the norm for mothers-in-law and sons-in-law.

During this time, Jim was the beneficiary of my longing for Brent's cock up my cunt. I fucked him more intensely than at any other time in our marriage – including our honeymoon. He seemed to always have a smile on his face, and he was as appreciative of my oral worship of his cock as he was of my bronco-riding simulations complete with pc muscle contractions. He would not have been happy, however, if he knew – despite my unsuccessful attempts to preclude it – that half the time I was sucking or fucking Brent's cock in my mind while actually doing it to Jim.

Maybe I could have avoided future aberrant and malevolent activities with Brent (at least I try to fool myself into thinking that) were it not for a circumstance when Rosalyn was thirteen months old, now toddling around with an always cheerful face, and having been weaned from Sybil's breasts, although she still desired a bottle once a day. Sybil had an opportunity to attend a six day and five night training course that would qualify her for a significant promotion at work. Despite the fact that he had significantly cut down on his travel, during that same time period Jim had a business trip that he could not avoid. Sybil had a proposal.

"Mom, I really want to get a promotion – it would mean a lot to both Brent and me. However, I have a problem with care for Rosalyn," Sybil told me one Sunday afternoon while Brent, my son Jason and one of his friends, and Jim were watching football, and Sybil and I were in the den with me joyously feeding Rosalyn her bottle while she made cooing sounds and laughed with her eyes.

"What's wrong, darling?" I questioned while pulling on Rosalyn's toes.

"I have to attend a seminar for almost a week, and Brent can't take off from work that whole time, and I certainly don't want to leave Rosalyn with a sitter every day..."

I could tell what she wanted, but was hesitant to ask, so I chuckled "So you think that your dear mother could pinch hit for you and take care of this precious bundle of joy for a few days?"

Sybil smiled. "Well...I know that it's an imposition but I would be sooo grateful."

"When is this seminar?"

"I'd leave the morning of Saturday the 18th and get back the afternoon of the 23rd."