Richard Cabot was, in almost all ways, a happy and lucky man. At the age of 25, he had a lovely wife, Catherine (age 22), a good job that he enjoyed and, while a new home was being built, he had free room and board with his wife's wealthy parents. His relations with his in-laws always had been pleasant even before he married their daughter a year and one-half ago. Unfortunately, that relationship seemed to have soured, creating a difficult situation for everyone concerned. Actually, the problem was not only his: his mother-in-law, Cynthia, had, for the past several months, become waspish, critical and just hard to live with for everyone, including her husband (and, of course Catherine's father), James. In fact, her most vicious and sarcastic comments were addressed to James while Richard and Catherine were on the periphery. Still, the household atmosphere was poisoned for everyone and, recently, Catherine had increasingly borne the brunt of her mother's ire since James found more and more reasons to avoid being home. Richard's protective instincts had almost caused him to erupt several times, but his wife was able to head off the explosion that was long overdue.
Catherine and Cynthia always had been more than mother and daughter. They truly were "best friends" and had shared each other's good and bad times, having no hesitation in discussing their most intimate feelings with each other, a relationship that had made Catherine's formative years far less traumatic than those of her classmates. She was even able to discuss her first sexual urges and experimentations with her mother, and, as a result, she had none of the "I'll show you, I'll get screwed just to spite you" revolts of those classmates. When that screwing finally did occur during her freshman year in college, she has no hesitation telling Cynthia and received support, not censure. Equally, Cynthia had no difficulty in confiding in Catherine as her daughter matured, creating a mutual trust and companionship.
That, of course, made the current estrangement all the more difficult for Catherine -- she knew that something was seriously wrong, but any efforts she made to broach the issue were met with uncharacteristically cold responses. This was made far worse now that they were sharing the same house and would be disastrous unless, as Richard threatened to Catherine, they moved out of there before he blew up. Catherine finally was close to accepting that solution to prevent the inevitable explosion from occurring, but, one evening when she was out and not there to diffuse the issue, that explosion finally occurred.
Richard, thinking he was alone in the house since James was out of town and Cynthia had gone out earlier, walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He was startled to find Cynthia standing there wearing a surprisingly brief and thin nightgown. It was not completely transparent, but her nipples showed clearly through the fabric as did her dark triangle of cunt hair. Seeing her virtually nude body displayed so unexpectedly had the immediate masculine reaction, a hardening cock, until, almost immediately, reality hit -- it was his mother-in-law! It developed that she had returned early and, like him, had assumed that she was alone.
However, rather than ignoring the situation or making light of it, Cynthia lit into Richard for walking around in her house in his underwear. The attack was unfair, of course, and, she admitted later, came largely because she was embarrassed. Nonetheless, her sharp words ignited the fuse that had been smoldering for some time and Richard jabbed back, sarcastically apologizing for his behavior in her house. The battle of words expanded from there, his animosity build up in the weeks of seeing Catherine criticized burst forth, meeting her waspish haranguing about ungrateful, insensitive and immodest young men.
To an unbiased observer, the verbal clash would have been fascinating to watch -- words poured out, faces got red, breathing became rapid. Physically, it would have been interesting, also. Richard was a well-build young man, in good condition, his physique well displayed in his somewhat garish shorts (a present from Catherine on Valentine's Day). Cynthia also was quite well built. She was now 45 years or age, but when she and Catherine were out together, people invariably assumed that they were sisters, only a few years apart. Both were about 5' 5 and had good figures, their breasts a bit oversized, their bottoms perhaps a shade too plump, but if their breasts jiggled a bit as they walked and their hips swayed and bounced a bit, no one complained. Those attributes were well revealed in the gown Cynthia had on, but her embarrassment at her exposure had vanished in the heat of their verbal battle. While Richard had been well aware of what she was showing when he first walked into the room, any conscious appreciation of her attractions had been banished by the red heat of his anger.
The arguing went on, neither really listening to the other, until, thoroughly frustrated, Cynthia swung her hand, attempting to slap Richard in the face. Grabbing her arm, he forced it down saying, "So, you want to hit! I'm going to give you just what your daughter gets when she misbehaves -- a spanking! "
"
Oh, no you won't,
" shrieked Cynthia, twisting her arm away and dashing toward her bedroom, followed closely by her furious son-in-law. At that point, he no longer thought of her as his mother-in-law, or anything else for that matter, just a woman who had earned a spanking and was going to get it. If he had thought, of course, discretion probably would have ended the struggle long before, but the buildup of animosity coupled with the vicious verbal attack removed any coherent thought of consequences.
Grasping her by the arm, he pulled her back toward the bed, she struggling vigorously all the way. Despite her stringent efforts, he picked her up bodily, set down on the edge of the bed and whipped her down over his knees. She was twisting and writhing, literally screaming to be released, threatening dire consequences -- all to no avail. Without conscious thought of what he was would be exposing, he did as he did with Catherine when he spanked her. Grabbing the hem of her short gown, he yanked it up over her back, revealing what had been clearly shown through the diaphanous gown -- the fact that she wore no panties. For a second, his natural male reactions to such a display overcame his rage. Actually, the two perfect round mounds, the deep furrow between them and the hair-covered cunt lips nakedly displayed before him looked almost exactly the same as the ones when he spanked his wife. Perhaps it was that similarity, seeing the same thing he was used to, that dampened his momentary erotic reaction and permitted his anger to control him again.
Whatever the reason, the brief respite ended when he brought his hand down with a vicious SMACK directly onto her left cheek. That hit was promptly repeated SMACK on the other mound. Cynthia continual ranting was abruptly interrupted with a shrill cry of pain, "OW, stop it! OW, OW, OW, OW! " Each thundering SMACK was followed instantly by an "OW", followed by a howl of rage, the whole sequence repeated over and over again as his hand rhythmically went from side to side, turning what had been a pure white ass into one that was uniformly beet red. SMACK, "OW, damn it, stop!" SMACK. "OW, ooooh, stop," SMACK, "OUCH, QUIT IT!" SMACK...
Gradually, the SMACK was followed only by an "OW," and then SMACK, "moan," SMACK, "Oooooh" SMACK... During the entire spanking, Cynthia had continued thrashing and twisting, trying to dislodge herself from Richard's grasp, trying to avoid the next punishing blow. Nothing worked. Slowly her defiance melted away as she was battered into submission. Finally, completely defeated, she just hung there over his knees, moaning and crying as the punishment was delivered. At first she was all too aware, despite her own anger-blindness, of how much was revealed when her skirt had been flipped up. Even while attempting to escape or, at least, to ease the pain, she attempted to hide her most intimate areas, squeezing her cheeks together, clamping her thighs tightly against each other. However, as that pain increased, as each SMACK became more agonizing, as blow after blow hit the same spots, any residual thought of modesty vanished as she, finally, surrendered and lay there, all revealed, all open to punishment.
Bit by bit, Richard became aware of her complete submission and, as his anger faded, exorcised by the physical punishment of the transgressor, his eyes focused in a different way on the crimson behind that he was belaboring. Like a magnet, his eyes were drawn to the open thighs that no longer concealed the cunt at their apex. Following the trail upwards, he saw between the cheeks to the puckered asshole she had tried so valiantly to hide. Involuntarily, his hand slid between her legs and fondled her cunt. Suddenly a different kind of drive took over him and, as he had been blind to the consequences of spanking his mother-in-law, now he became blind to other possible aftermaths. During the struggle, his shorts had come undone and now, his rampant cock rubbed against Cynthia's hip, creating an urge that was uncontrollable. It has been said that "a hard cock has no conscience," and that certainly was the case here.
Without conscious thought of planning, only reacting to a primal urge, Richard lifted Cynthia up and placed her on the bed. She lay there virtually naked, her nightgown having worked up over her breasts in her struggles, leaving her nude from the neck down. Dropping his shorts the rest of the way, he got on the bed, moved between her legs, lifted them over his shoulders and, without hesitation, slid his cock completely into her cunt.
