“Can I see it??”

Her tone wasn’t sexual, or even seductive. It was simple, casual, and innocent – like an offhand remark, or like the most normal of requests. Still, I hesitated. “Ummm …”

+++ earlier that afternoon +++

As the school year drew to a close, the family calendar was filled up with various performances, concerts, and celebrations for our young kids. My wife’s mother, who lived six hours away, wanted to be present for those events, but since her 75-year-old husband (my wife’s third stepfather) wasn’t feeling up for a weeklong trip, my mother-in-law traveled up by herself. I requested that week off from work so that I could attend our kids’ events and also be available to spend time with her and my wife.

On the third day of my mother-in-law’s stay with us, my wife had to leave for a few hours to fulfill a work commitment. Since it was a beautiful sunny day and there was nothing else to do, the two of us decided to pass the time by swimming and lounging near our inground pool.

At one point, while laying on one of our lounge chairs, I unexpectedly drifted into a nap. I woke up quite groggy, surprised that I had fallen asleep. Unaware of what time it was or what was happening, one of the first lucid observations I made was that I had apparently enjoyed some type of fantasy during my nap – because there was quite a dramatic tent in my swimsuit. I absent-mindedly reached my hand down and caressed my hard-on through the thin fabric.

In my semi-conscious state, though, I had forgotten a very significant detail of my circumstance: the fact that I was not alone. To my horror, I was suddenly reminded of that when I heard my mother-in-law’s soft voice from my periphery. “Good afternoon! Did you have a nice dream?”

My hand jerked backward as if I had touched the hottest of stoves. Redness instantly spreading across my face, I whipped my head sideways to look at her. “Omigosh … I am sooo sorry, I forgot … I didn’t know where I … I forgot you were …”

She interrupted my rambling apology. “It’s okay, hun, don’t worry about it. I actually watched it grow while you were sleeping. I have to admit, I was quite impressed.”

I wanted to melt through the chair and have the earth swallow me whole. Before I could say or do anything else, though, she spoke up again – with a mind-blowing request.

“Can I see it??”

Her tone wasn’t sexual, or even seductive. It was simple, casual, and innocent – like an offhand remark, or like the most normal of requests. Still, I hesitated. “Ummm …”

In the midst of my bewildered state, my mother-in-law turned to face me. “I’m sorry, I know that’s kind of a weird request … it’s just been such a long time for me. My husband can’t get hard anymore … actually, it’s been years since we’ve been able to have sex, or since I’ve even seen an erect penis. I was quite captivated by the sight of your shorts growing, that’s all. I’d be intrigued to see more … that is, only if you were willing to show me.”

My erection had been quickly retreating, but her explanation made it reverse course.

I’m not exactly sure what prompted my next action: perhaps I still wasn’t fully awake; perhaps it was the discomfort of my straining shorts; maybe it was because I was secretly a bit of an exhibitionist. In any case, though, I did something I never would’ve previously imagined doing: I opened my swimsuit and let my cock spring proudly to life in full view of my mother-in-law.

In turn, she gave me immediate gratification. “Wow. That is a nice-looking tool you have there. I bet you make my daughter very happy!”

As if this was a totally normal conversation to have with your mother-in-law, I chuckled and responded truthfully, “Ha, thanks – um, well, yes.”

Helen, my mother-in-law, slowly laid back down on her lounge chair, a sly smile on her face. “Well, don’t let my presence stop you from – ahem – taking care of yourself.”

As if showing off my fully-engorged cock to my mother-in-law wasn’t bad enough, the idea of openly masturbating right next to her seemed outright ridiculous. I tried desperately to think of other things to make my throbbing desire go away – and yet, the more I tried to think about not masturbating, the more intense that longing became. Twice, I reached for my exposed cock to jerk myself off … and twice I pulled back, conflicted by the inappropriateness.

Unbeknownst to me, Helen was secretly observing my indecisiveness. She suddenly sat up and pivoted her body so that her legs were in the space between our two lounge chairs, and then stared calmly into my eyes. “Do you want a hand with that?”

Pulse pounding, I swallowed hard and stammered an immediate objection, “Umm, what?!? Uh, no!! I mean, I can’t … well, you shouldn’t …”

“It’s okay,” she whispered quietly.

My mouth hung open, speechless. I felt powerless to resist what suddenly seemed inevitable.

She accurately perceived my defenselessness, and – without breaking eye contact with me – slowly reached her arm across the gap between us.

I held my breath.

Her suntan lotion-oiled fingers approached my towering cock … and then curled around it. The air rushed out of my lungs. I groaned loudly in a flood of incredible forbidden pleasure.

She began to slowly stroke the cock that technically belonged to her daughter. I closed my eyes in overwhelming arousal, and the rest of my body went limp against the chair.

“Does that feel good?” Her voice remained calm, soft, and casually endearing.

“Uh-huh,” I groaned.

“You have impressive size,” she murmured.

“Thank you,” I moaned.

She asked a fairly rhetorical question, “Do you think I can make you explode?”

It wasn’t a question of if – it was only a matter of how soon. Whatever she might have lacked in youthfulness, she easily made up for in experience. The thought flickered through my mind that her daughter should take some lessons from her on how to give a guy a hand job.

As if she had done this to me a million times before and knew exactly what I liked, she soon started picking up her pace. Instinctually, my hips started thrusting upward into her tight grip. A cautionary part of my brain was aware that we were at risk of being observed by any of our neighbors – but I didn’t care. My eruption was imminent.

Breathing heavily, I told her, “You’re gonna make me cum soon.”

I could hear the smile in her voice as she quickly asked, “How soon?”

“Real soon,” I groaned.

Giddily, she demanded, “When?”

In between gasps for air, I breathed out, “Right … about …”

By telling her that, I had expected that she might back her face away from me, or at least be ready to remove her hand. Instead, what met my utterance of “now” was an entirely different sensation on my cock. I opened my eyes just in time to see her mouth descend upon my cock … at the exact moment that my orgasm erupted.

“Ohh FUCKKK!!!” The loud groan fled from my lips as thick spurts of pent-up cum suddenly painted the back of my mother-in-law’s hungry throat. Unlike her daughter, she dutifully gulped down and swallowed my entire load.

When I eventually finished, she slowly detached her mouth and sat up, smiling wide and wiping her mouth. “Sorry about that, but I figured it’d be best to swallow the evidence,” she said coyly. “That being said, I’m gonna run inside quick and get a soda … we can’t have your wife smelling your cum on my breath when she gets home.”

+++ two days later +++

Nothing more was spoken about that taboo event, or even acknowledged, over the next 48 hours. In fact, Helen acted so normal and nonchalant around me that it seemed as if nothing had happened at all. I started questioning whether or not that poolside encounter had actually taken place, or if it was just an extended part of my dream.

Two days later, though, when my wife was out of the house again for a brief work appointment and our kids were still at school, I was given definitive confirmation that it had not been a dream.

I was sitting in the corner chair in our bedroom, working on my laptop, when Helen poked her head in and told me she was going to take a shower. That was nothing unusual; with only one shower in our house, we typically notified each other when we were doing that.

What was unusual, however, was that she did not close the bathroom door.

I assumed that the open door was a subtle invitation from her for me to peek, but I wanted until the water had been running for a couple minutes. By the time I entered the bathroom, the steam from her hot shower had completely fogged up the all-glass enclosure, preventing me from seeing anything more than her shadowy figure inside. However, seeing her towels laying on the floor suddenly gave me a wicked idea. I grabbed them – along with the other towels that were hanging on the rack – and quickly left the room.

Back in the bedroom, I waited for her to finish her shower. A few moments after the water shut off, just as I had expected and hoped, I heard Helen call out to me, “Hey hun?? Umm … I seem to not have any towels.”

As I walked toward the bathroom, I teasingly called out, “Hmm, that’s odd. Can you describe what you’re missing? I’ll draw a picture based on your description so I know what to look for.”

Helen willingly submitted to my game, casually describing the color, size, and texture of the towels. Meanwhile, what I actually drew on the notepad I’d brought with me was a rough sketch of her blurry naked profile as seen through the condensation on the glass shower walls. When finished, I ripped out the page and blindly handed it to her through the narrow crack in the shower door, asking a facetious question, “Does it look like this?”

She murmured and answered playfully, “Pretty close, dear.”

Amused, I responded back, “Alright – I’ll go see if I can find those towels for you.”

I went back to the bedroom and was in the process of gathering up the towels, fully intending to return them to her, when I was puzzled by hearing the shower door close.

I turned around – and dropped all the towels on the floor – but it was my jaw that dropped the most. My dripping wet mother-in-law was leaning against the doorframe – completely, utterly, and unashamedly naked.

She smiled at my stunned reaction and remarked, “I think you missed some details in your drawing.”

Indeed, my wide eyes were already scanning the details that I had never seen before. Her body was incredibly fit for her age – I had always known that – but I was now also introduced to her firm dark nipples, the large areolas on her matronly breasts, her thin patch of salt-and-pepper pubic hair, and a very pronounced set of lips that protruded from between her toned thighs. The beads of water running down her bare skin hugged every one of her curves and made her wet body glisten like a goddess. If her daughter aged like this, I was in for quite a treat.

I was already standing, but another part of my body also rapidly rose to salute her.

Like a teenage boy, I started fumbling with my clothes, anxious to match her state of undress. As I did so, finding myself to be completely overwhelmed by an entirely sinful and yet absolutely irrepressible desire, I muttered to her, “Get on the bed. And get on all fours.”

Without a word, she obeyed immediately. She was sexually deprived; I was insatiably horny; we were a perfect match.

As soon as I finished stripping naked, I stood behind her doggystyle ass and gently coaxed her legs apart with my hands. She might not have expected it, but the first body part that I introduced to her flesh was my tongue. Placing my hands on her firm ass cheeks to subtly spread them apart, I showed my appreciation for her beautiful box by slowly licking it from bottom to top.

To my delight, she gasped and moaned with erotic pleasure. “Ohhhh … no man has put their tongue down there in …”

She never finished her sentence, because I did it again.

For the next several minutes, I licked and tasted and sucked on and fingered the most mature pussy that I had ever encountered. Although the temptation to go further was undeniably strong, it was her desires – not mine – that eventually initiated the next phase of our adulterous union. “I need your cock,” she breathed out. I’d never heard her voice sound so desperate.

Partially to clarify, and partially because I just wanted to hear her say it, I detached my mouth from her womanhood to respond, “You need my what??”

She spread her knees further apart, widening her stance and opening up her entrance even more so as to make it overwhelmingly obvious. “I need to have your cock inside me,” she pleaded.

I faked a mocking tone. “Oh my – are you asking your daughter’s husband to fuck you instead? Hmm, is that allowed??”

“I don’t care – just do it, please.” My mother-in-law raised her ass even higher. “Fuck me, please fuck me so hard, pound me, take me, I’m all yours, just please fucking FUCK me …”

I had made her wait long enough. Her rapid-fire pleas persuaded me to cross a line that I had never considered crossing. I lined up my pulsing cock behind her dripping-wet entrance and prepared to invade the tunnel that had once delivered my wife.

Grabbing her hip tightly with one hand, I used my other hand to clench her shoulder and keep her in position. Between the wetness that had come from my saliva, the shower, and her own arousal, her tight mature vagina offered hardly any resistance as I slowly embedded all 7 of my thick inches into her fantastic snatch.

We both moaned aloud with overwhelming pleasure as I rhythmically pulled back and thrusted forward to drill into the depths of her again and again. In hardly any time at all, her marvelous cunt had loosened enough to let me slide rapidly in and out of her without any friction. The sounds of our slapping flesh and animalistic grunts echoed loudly within the room.

In the heat of the moment, not only had I lost track of time, but I also had not heard the front door open. Both of those lapses were horrifyingly confronted when I suddenly heard my wife’s voice. “Omigosh, you two – really?!?!?”

+++++

My life – especially my married life – flashed before my eyes. I was waiting for a verbal assault, an act of outright physical aggression, a vehemently angry departure, something … but my wife’s actual reaction kept me frozen, mid-thrust, into her mom.

As my wife stood in the bedroom doorway, she simply shook her head. “I don’t know what’s more disturbing to look at – my husband inside my mom, or my mom taking it doggystyle.”

The calmness of my wife’s demeanor was beyond shocking to me. I nervously ventured a question. “Wait … are you not pissed right now???”

My wife just shrugged. “My mom has told me for years about her sexual frustration, and I’ve mentioned that you always want sex more often than I do. I half-jokingly told her one day that if she could somehow seduce you, she could have you – I’m just surprised that both of you actually went through with it.”

My gaze flipped back and forth between my apparently-complacent wife and the naked backside of her mother in front of me. Still dumbfounded, I asked again, “Wait, so you’re actually okay with this??”

For the second time, my wife shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I can’t say that I’m thrilled about it, but you know how much I love my mom, and I’ve pitied her situation for a long time.”

My cock, which had immediately started wilting when she first startled us, slowly begin to re-harden deep inside her mom’s vagina.

Perhaps feeling that, her mom – who had been silent and still until that point – suddenly spoke up, “I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I’m kind of in an awkward position here.”

I playfully smacked her ass. “Hmm, you sure are – would you like me to continue?”

She thrusted her hips backward into mine and moaned, “Fuck yes, keep pounding me.”

I turned to my wife and asked her cheekily, “Do you intend to stay and watch?”

Disgust briefly flickered across my wife’s face. “Ummmm, NO.” After a pause, though, she added, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but … just make sure my mom cums, okay??”

Before I could even think of a response, my mother-in-law jumped in with one. “Honey, with the package he’s carrying, it’s not a matter of if, but only how many times he makes me cum.”

My wife rapidly waved her hand in front of her face and started walking away. “Eww, you two are gross. I’ll be sitting outside.”

+++++

p.s. The answer was three – and it only stopped there because the kids were due to come home.