Son-in-law's Summer of Love and Sex


Eager to feel her body, wanting to feel her breasts and finger her nipples before moving my hand along her shapely thighs, continuing up beneath her nightgown, and touching her between her legs, I needed to go slow. Wanting to enjoy every moment, I didn't want to rush things. We had plenty of time to take things slow. We not only had the whole night, we had days, weeks, and months together for us to get better sexually acquainted.

After having spent a wonderful year and an erotic summer doing things and going places with mother instead of daughter, Samantha was always too busy to do and go with me. Christine gave me memories that I'll cherish forever. Having become close friends before we became lovers, I was content just to kiss her while holding her without sexually touching her. She was so beautiful and kissing her was like nothing I could have imagined. Then shockingly and excitingly, taking things in her own hands, it happened.

While I was the one who masturbated every night with the thoughts of touching her, feeling her, and exploring her body with my hands, my mouth, and my cock, before I even had a chance to feel her firm, round ass, she was the one who touched me. While I kissed her and while I built up the courage to touch her, I felt her hand move down from my shoulder to feel my chest. Her hand felt so incredibly good that I didn't dare move for fear that she'd remove her hand. Then, before I could reciprocate her touch to cup her breast and finger her nipple, I felt her hand slowly slide down my stomach and come to rest in my lap. With her fingertips so erotically close to my cock, just mere inches away, the passion of my kisses grew with my desire for her to touch me where I needed her to touch me. Would she or wouldn't she touch my cock? I couldn't believe my mother-in-law was poised to touch my cock.

Now my focus was more on her touching me than on me touching her. Focusing more on her lips, her fingertips, and my cock instead of on her hot body, wishing she'd move her hand just a little closer to my engorged, throbbing prick and wishing she'd take my cock in her hand and stroke me, I was so hot and horny for her. Then, as if psychically reading my mind, she did what I hoped she'd do. Touching me where no mother-in-law should ever touch her son-in-law, she ever so lightly touched my cock through my pajamas with her fingertips.

As if gently taking my pulse, the feel of her fingertips lightly touching my cock was electric. As if plugged in a wall outlet, my cock came alive, pulsated, and hardened to her magical touch. Then, while I continued kissing her, as if my prick was hers, she moved her whole hand over my penis as if protecting me from harm and/or claiming me as hers. Leaving her hand atop my penis, as if she was getting ready to move her lips down to smoke it, I felt her fingers gently knead my penis before lifting it through my pajama as if she was delicately holding an expensive cigar.

"You have a nice body," she said lightly touching the head of my cock with her fingertips while looking in my eyes before looking down at the big bulge my prick made in my pajama.

As if she was deftly turning the combination to a safe, I felt her fingers fondle the head of my penis in the way that I couldn't wait to finger her nipples. Only I knew if I touched her, felt her, and caressed her, I'd be lost in my lust for her and there'd be no turning back. Already too aroused with incestuous lust for her, I'd move too fast and ruin everything if I started prematurely feeling her. Besides, comfortable with her making all the right moves, I didn't want to interrupt whatever she was doing with my penis to make all the wrong ones.

Although I've been wanting to see her naked, feel her naked body, make love to her, and fuck her, disturbingly, frustratingly, and unbelievably, I wasn't ready for that just yet. Even after having French kissed her mother, I still wasn't over her daughter. Having pined over her daughter for more than a year, I needed to put Samantha behind me forever before I could move forward and truly enjoy having sex with her mother. Not knowing where she is and what she's doing, with Samantha still absent from my life, I didn't know how I'd react if she was ever to return. Needing to see her again, I needed to know for certain that I wanted mother over daughter. Once I had sex with mother, daughter would never want me back. Perhaps once I had sex with mother, I wouldn't want daughter even if she returned.

After her daughter left me and abandoned our baby, thinking back to how it all began last summer between Christine and I, my mother-in-law's question reverberated in my head every time I thought about how my illicit, extramarital love affair started. After all the times I masturbated while thinking of having sex with Samantha's mother, her question and my answer had been a long time coming. Still in love with her daughter, how could I begin a sexual relationship with her mother? Yet living without Samantha in my life and living with Christine in my life, just as I couldn't imagine my life without Samantha in it before, I couldn't imagine my life without Christine in it now. Feeling a bit twisted being in love with daughter and mother, my feelings of love finally diminished enough for Samantha to manifest more for Christine.

"May I sleep with you?"

A place where I'd never go before I was ready to go now. No longer playing the jilted lover, for the first time, when I looked in Christine's blue eyes, I no longer saw my wife's mother. I no longer felt as if I was doing something wrong. I no longer saw Samantha staring back at me to make me feel guilty. Over with playing the abandoned husband, when I stared down at her ever present cleavage, I no longer saw my mother-in-law. I saw her tits. Now, when I kissed her and parted her lips with my tongue before making passionate love with her, I saw her for the woman that she is and has always been. I saw Christine.

Like mother like daughter, kissing Christine reminded me of kissing Samantha. Beautiful in her own right, who wouldn't want to kiss Christine? Where Samantha faltered, Christine shined. An amazing, talented, and intelligent woman, the spitting image of her daughter physically, only she was a much morally better and a more mature person. As pretty as she was on the outside, she was beautiful on the inside too, something that couldn't be said about selfish, self-absorbed, and self-centered Samantha.

Funny how at a time like this I'd think that but, while I was ready to make love with her mother, I wondered where her daughter was. Who knows where she was and who she's fucking and sucking? Had Michael not looked so much like me, I'd question if the baby was even mine. Yet, now that I've cared for him for two years, it wouldn't matter to me who fathered the baby. He's my son.

Now that I was about to have sex with Christine, I wondered, if I had married her instead of Samantha and with my role as husband reversed, if I'd want daughter over mother in the way that I wanted mother over daughter. A human weakness, are we ever happy with the one we have? My question was a mute one, as Samantha was the one who left me and not the other way around. Madly in love with her, she was the one who didn't want me. She was the one not happy enough with me to leave me.

Maybe my wife figured by leaving me with her mother, if the two of us were left alone long enough we'd gravitate to one another. Maybe she was smarter than I thought. Maybe knowing me as the sexual man that I am and the attractive, lonely woman her mother is, she knew us better than we knew ourselves. Perhaps a stretch, her devious way to keep it all in the family, but maybe her leaving us together was her way of matchmaking me with her mother. Whatever my speculations and suppositions, Christine was now in my life instead of Samantha.

A different time back then, with pregnancy more of a working woman's disease than a blessing, her mother had a modeling contract on the table that was withdrawn when she became pregnant with Samantha. Preferring to raise her child than have an abortion to travel the globe for the sake of art, photography, and beauty, she preferred making her own life at home with her child as any good mother and wife would. Only her love story abruptly ended when her husband cheated on her with her best friend. With history repeating itself, he left her and abandoned his child for another woman just as Samantha left me and abandoned Michael for another man.

In the way that there's a reason for everything, as a single mother, Christine took a job for a modeling agent as her top administrative assistant. Even though she was eventually offered another contract to model and declined, she did some impromptu, fill-in modeling jobs on the side, whenever models were a no show. Preferring to stay behind the camera, she stayed in the background, that is, until she introduced her daughter to her boss. A one in a million face and body that launched dozens of advertising campaigns, Samantha was the innocent darling of the modeling industry for ten, long, insufferable years.

Samantha, Samantha, Samantha, as famous as any pro athlete, it had always been all about Samantha and her modeling career. From the time she was discovered at 15-years-old by her mother's employer, a top modeling agent, she had always been the shining star, the superstar, and the emerging supermodel. Making the rounds and appearing on all of the high fashion magazine covers, she had an entire entourage doting on her to help her walk down the runway. With their sole purpose to make her happy, she was made to feel special. She was privileged. Treated like royalty, she was spoiled.

Now that she's gone, with Samantha no longer financially supporting us, it was just her mother and me fending for ourselves. With her modeling career nearing the end, she didn't need us anymore in our moral support roles to help her get through her day. Always surrounded by people, she had enough bloodsuckers on her payroll helping her to get up, get dressed, and get out to earn money. It was always only about the money with her anyway.

"May I sleep with you?"

It wasn't as if Christine asking to sleep with me came out of the blue. After Samantha dumped me and ended her relationship with her mother, our way to get through our days without her, we had fooled around a little before Christine stood at my bedroom door in her sexy nightgown and before we developed a sexual relationship. Nothing more than kissing without tongues, hugging without humps, and touching without feeling one another sexually, we soon became dependent upon one another for all our needs.

Basking in her shine and hidden behind her shadow, as if Samantha had been our sun and we were her moons revolving around her, the titillation of our teasing, flirting, and flashing made us forget how unhappy we were when she left. Always at her side at fashion shows, parties, and premiers before, no longer Samantha's handsome husband and her mirror image mother, we were now anonymous in our stay at home roles. A slow burn building, as if our sexual relationship was meant to be, had I started off this way with Samantha in the way that I did with Christine, slow and easy instead of fast and wild, perhaps we'd still be together.

"Thank you for the wonderful dinner," I said giving Christine a kiss on the cheek and reaching around her back to give her a polite hug that any son-in-law would give his mother-in-law while wishing that I could reach down to feel her tight ass.

"Oh, you're so very welcome," she said throwing her arms around my neck with a wide smile while squishing her C cup breasts against my muscular chest as if she was my lover.

Every time she hugged me like that she made me feel as if I had just won an award for something. Every time she kissed me like that, I wanted, expected, and hoped for more. Making me take a step back for the guilt that I had in my perverted sexual feelings for her, she always surprised me that her hug was more sexual than mine. Yet, innocently I figured, no doubt sensing my loneliness, she was just trying to comfort me where her daughter failed. Gradually, as our loneliness grew and our connection increased, our kisses went from a kiss on the cheek to a peck on the lips with our hugs lasting a little longer.

The first time we touched lips, as if we were both surprised that we kissed, our eyes remained open. Then with the pecks lasting a little longer, considered more of a smooch than a peck, closing our eyes with the anticipation of the kiss while hugging, we kissed in the morning after we awakened and at night before retiring for bed. Especially in the beginning, kissing one another as if we were brother and sister or an old couple who had been married too long, our kisses were more displays of genuine affection and of friendship than of sexual desire and of lust. After a while, it was the excitement of kissing mother that stopped me from missing daughter. It was Christine's kisses that had me thinking more about her than about Samantha. More than longing to kiss Samantha and yearning to have sex with her again, I now longed to kiss Christine and yearned have sex with her.

"Good morning, Christine," I said welcoming that body to body physical connection and eager to touch my lips to hers. "It's going to be another beautiful sunshine day of summer."

Afraid to make my feelings for her known, I didn't know how to make the kiss last longer without being obvious in my intention and foolish in my misplaced desire. Being that she was still my mother-in-law and I was her son-in-law, waiting for her to take the first step or give me a sign of encouragement, I didn't want to make Christine afraid to stay with me. Fearing that I'd ruin things should Samantha return, I didn't want her mother telling her daughter that I made a pass at her. Better the other way around with her making a pass at me, having to be content with lusting for her while masturbating over her, we discussed the weather instead.

"Good morning, Stephen," she said returning my eagerness with her kiss. "Yes, not as hot as yesterday, the weatherman said that it still may hit ninety degrees."

When I closed my eyes to kiss her, I imagined I was in bed with her naked and making love to her. When I closed my eyes to kiss her, I imagined she loved me as much as I loved her. Sadly and frustratingly, she was talking about the summer weather being hot when my temperature for her was already boiling. Eventually adding color to our friendship, we made lots of small talk while ignoring the elephant in the room, our obvious sexual attraction for one another.

Over time, our hugs lasted longer with our entire torsos touching and with my horny hands feeling the back outline of her bra and moving all the way down to the top of her bikini panty. Just by hugging Christine, I was aroused and it took all the control I had not to reach one hand down to cup her sweet ass and move my other hand around to feel her big breast. Expecting her to pull away from me when my cock made a hard appearance against her, I was surprised when she didn't end our hug and take a step back.

Just as I could feel the softness of her stomach against my erect cock, I imagined she could feel my big prick against her toned belly. Maybe she enjoyed hugging me as much as I enjoyed hugging her. Maybe it aroused her as much as it aroused me to feel my hard prick pressed against her soft tummy. But for a few pounds heavier than her always too thin daughter, she felt the shapely same in my arms as did Samantha. When holding Christine, I couldn't help but feel that I was holding Samantha in the way that I imagined she'd feel twenty years from now.

"I'll see you tonight, Christine," I said giving her a hug and a smooch on the lips before leaving the house for work.

Pausing each time to make the kiss last just a little longer, always when I kissed her, even just a smooch, I imagined more. I imagined us naked and in bed together French kissing while making love. As soon as I thought that, I remembered she was my mother-in-law and not my wife, my girlfriend, or my lover. Yet as soon as I thought about us together in bed naked, I was hot for her and my cock ached for her.

Always in the back of my mind stopping me from taking the next step, what if Samantha returned suddenly and unexpectedly? What if she was sorry and wanted to be part of our lives again? What would I do embroiled in a lover's triangle between mother and daughter? Who would I chose? Which would want me? Would mother or daughter fight the other over me or would I lose both of them?

With our faces splashed all over the tabloids, what if the press got a hold of famed model's husband having sex with her mother? Even though she left me and abandoned our son, with her money she could sue me for custody and win by legally spinning the truth with her lies to make the breakup my fault. Just as I was afraid to start a sexual relationship with her mother, not wanting to risk losing my son to her daughter, I was forever hopeful of Samantha's return. Nonetheless, pining over daughter didn't stop me from lusting over mother.

"How was your day?"

In the way that I once yearned her daughter would treat me as her loving husband, her mother treated me as her loving son-in-law. Always touching my hand, my arm, my shoulder, or my leg, Christine looked at me and smiled before returning my hug with her own smooch on the lips. Wishing she'd slip me hers, it took all the self-control that I had not to slip her my tongue, lift up her short skirt, cup her sweet pussy, and push her back on the carpet, the table, or the bed and make love to her before fucking her, really fucking her and slamming my cock inside of her.

With mother looking so much like daughter, never missing Samantha in the way that I needed to miss her in order to forget her, being with Christine and living together in the same house, made me feel as if nothing had changed and everything remained the same. Gone on modeling assignment for days and weeks at a time, giving me a rushed phone call or a truncated e-mail, her daughter was never home anyway. Now, as if her daughter no longer existed, I wished I knew then what I know now. Even with our differences in ages, unbelievably and undeniably, the mother and not the daughter was who I should have dated from the start.

Incapable of showing sincere affection and real caring, her distant, self-absorbed daughter never showed me the attentiveness her mother did. After getting to know Christine while seeing Samantha for the miserable bitch she was, I was pleasantly surprised when all that I wanted and needed in her daughter I found in her mother. After a while, sexually fantasizing over Christine in the way that I used to over Samantha when we were dating, I so wanted to part her lips with my tongue. After a while, having already fantasized about making out with her, I wondered what it would feel like to French kiss my mother-in-law. I wondered if Christine kissed the same exciting way as did her daughter back when we were dating and so in love.

Stopping me from taking her in my arms to tell her that I love her and want her, there was always that imaginary line that I wasn't completely comfortable crossing. It's one thing to masturbate over the thoughts of her and quite another thing to have sex with her forbidden body. Being that I wasn't blood related to Christine, my apprehension to begin an intimate, sexual relationship with her was more of a taboo than it was my balking at real incest. Nonetheless, still married to her daughter, the thoughts of having sex with my mother-in-law and her having sex with her son-in-law was as disturbing as it was exciting.

Still forbidden to most God fearing, Bible thumbing, and church going people, uncomfortable with others knowing what I do behind closed bedroom doors, especially with my mother-in-law, if I was to have sex with Christine, not needing the approval or wanting the shame of family and friends, I'd keep our relationship to ourselves. Nonetheless, the perverted thoughts of having an incestuously forbidden, sexual relationship with my mother-in-law didn't stop me from imagining her naked when alone in my room with my hand around my cock and stroking myself. The lust that I felt for Christine didn't stop me from staring, leering, and peeping at her in the hopes of seeing something that I wasn't supposed to see. Sexually sated through my masturbation sessions over her enough to temporarily calm my horniness, however my lust for her increased whenever I saw her panty in an up skirt on her bra in a down blouse.

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bySusanJillParker© 20 comments/ 138832 views/ 48 favorites

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