FINDING TIME FOR EACH OTHER
Alone again and gazing at her reflection in the en-suite bathroom's mirror, her thoughts spooled back to what had happened on the bed, the covers rumpled and the pillows on the floor; a bed she had lain on with Tom.
Her long, auburn hair, tied back and now looking unruly, framed a slender face. Her full lips had a rosy glow from what she knew had been a result of their lustful kisses. The cut of her lace-fringed sleeveless nightgown revealed the porcelain whiteness of her arms and breasts; her fulsome figure not concealed by a dressing gown that she'd had no time to put on when Lucy's wail woke her, just as it had done with Tom. His room was along the landing, not so far from where she now stood.
You didn't encourage him, Fran, or lead him on by being flirty or saying something the least suggestive of your feelings, and that would have encouraged Tom to pursue his interest and need for you. She had been dismayed to discover his interest in her and the effect it had upon her, the rush of impure thoughts, and the reasons for Tom's pursuit of her.
She, too, could explain her reasons for conceding to his claims upon her, admitting that her daughter Jenny had her father's harsh, often callous, streak that had recently become indifferent to another's feelings or needs. Jenny kept that harder side to her character under control, never hidden. It lay under the surface and was deployed as and when circumstances demanded it.
She wanted to control events, and such a situation had followed Lucy's birth and in its aftermath, and over the last two years or so, her rejection of Tom and the satisfying of the young man's needs.
She had sympathised with his situation before falling into the emotional maelstrom of events that had led up to her needs being satisfied. Her body ached, and her mind was filled with what she had done with him, for him, and had so eagerly sought from him.
And yet she felt restless from the memory of all that she had succumbed to, an orgy of frenzied loving that she had never known of before, even through the years of her marriage that had ended in a bitter divorce, the legacy of which affected her day-to-day dealings with any man.
But with Tom Blyton, her son-in-law, their dealings had always been different, accommodating even. All that had gone before had been turned over at the height of her moments of discovery with him during the night.
She knew only too well what was at work in him, the difficulties that Tom was having with her daughter and recounted by Jenny often enough. The details weren't gone into, but they were gynaecological and had become a source of heated arguments between them ever since Lucy's birth. Marital relations had all but ceased, Jenny had been candid enough to tell her. She, too, had sensed a cooling between them and the reasons for that, she had soon understood, had become the lack of any pleasure whenever they had sex.
Understanding had grown into resentment, and Jenny's sudden recall to the hospital when the consultant's diary had provided an unexpected opportunity for her to be admitted had led to her being called upon, at very short notice, to babysit while Jenny was in hospital and Tom was at work.
The fragility of Tom's relationship with Jenny had awakened the tumult of emotions she often felt in her life, that of living alone. The more they had talked, over a shared supper, had seen the dynamics of their relationship change. She had then understood, only too quickly, what had provoked his touch on her. Words of understanding and consolation had then progressed to so much more; the flagrant casting aside of any remaining inhibitions and who they had become, to each other.
Her tryst in the kitchen with Tom, the pursuit of wild kisses and fumbling caresses, had been but the beginning. He had then detained her at the bedroom door, and she had been persuaded, coaxed even by his caresses, to allow him to be in her room and then to be naked in her bed. Tom's kisses and seducing caresses, to which he had been taken so emphatically, had seduced away her words of denial that it could happen between them. Her words seeking to restrain him had become meaningless babble.
Tom had soon been hot and hard, and yet smooth like velvet as he had begun to move inside her, frenetic acts of foreplay not delaying, for long, what had then happened; their gasps of dismay to be joined matched by moans of shared delight that could be heard through their kisses as she felt the head of his cock and the veins along his shaft touching places inside her that she had not known could feel so good and bring her on.
She tried to beat his back, her movements restricted by the presence of him inside her, his thrusts slow and deepening, inducing her to react by lifting her legs until she grasped them and held them around his waist. Her posture was awkward and submissive, her resistance slowly seduced away by the wayward pleasure that his movements within her aroused. She was being stretched and plumbed, felt that she was in a dance, with Tom taking the confident lead. She bucked her hips and tugged on him, and she had heard his sharp intakes of breath as rushes of pleasure had overwhelmed them.
"That's better...so much better,' he'd groaned and their unequal responses quickening.
She had gripped the skin of his back, caressed down to clamp his buttocks as he took her, these claims heightening the pleasure she felt from his movements and kisses. He had continued to plumb her body, to stretch her by his movements, the beating of her hands slowly easing as he silenced her cries with his deepening kisses until she could bear the torment of resisting no longer, her guilty conscience, because of what she was doing with him, tempestuously eased away.
He, and what Tom had done, had been impossible for her to resist, and she had clung to him fiercely; loved the way that he kissed; how Tom wanted to devour her mouth and tongue as he sought it, all the while slamming into her until she gasped in raging pleasure and pain. He had been so energetic in the pursuit of satisfaction denied to him for so long. She had felt that way too, but for quite different reasons.
'I'm into you now, and you sure do it for me,' he'd groaned at one point in their couplings and, somehow, he had found the strength to lift her off the bed and made her settle on him, his hands clenching her buttocks. His face had been pressed between her breasts, his mouth sucking and kissing her nipples as she moved on him, as Tom pulled her down as if he would never get enough of this forbidden fruit, his temperamental wife's mother.
'Tom...Tom!' she kept on yelping and falling on him. She loved to feel the tug of his lips on her breasts before she clung fiercely to his neck and crushed them to his chest. There had been something about being so obviously desired by Tom that reduced her to a trembling wreck, all resistance and propriety forsaken. She had succumbed and wanted to give of herself to him, and she had done so.
Wave after wave of orgasmic bliss had pulsed through her pussy and she had become lost in her pleasure as Tom climaxed and shot streams of hot cum deep inside her.
Tom had said so, had told her how she had moaned out of pleasure to share in all that had been discovered. She had been vocal and given him all the encouragement that he needed through their snatched kisses, and she had felt the harshness of his taking of her as he had made her lie back as far as it allowed, her hands gripping his shoulders, and Tom leaning over her and resuming his wild taking of her, the mattress creaking as she thrashed the covers with her feet to sustain the momentum that he had set.
It had been so destructive of her ordered world and wrong, the way her body had reacted to what they pursued of each other. She would have given anything for him to stop before their claims upon each other brought the rush of a wrecking orgasm. To share that had been to acknowledge and accept the pleasure that they had discovered and the making of a bond so different from all that had gone before. Unlike her daughter, she had given of herself completely.
'Fran...you darling woman...Fran!' he'd gasped through their snatched kisses, bending to kiss her breasts as she jerked and clamped on him feverishly, bucking her hips and meeting his movements. 'You're going to break me!'
'As you've done...to me...I'm...I'm lost!'
She had shuddered in her orgasm as she had felt the leap of his penis deep within her; then the tingling rushes as wad after wad of his semen filled her. She had shuddered on feeling them, the effect that she had had upon him. She had clung to him, and now her arms and legs ached from all that had been so tempestuously discovered.
