This story is part of the Love Stimulator Series that follows our protagonist Sarah as she continues her merry lesbian romp across London. Sarah's adventures take place in the same universe as the Butt Coin series I wrote last year which gets mentioned in this story. I'm fascinated by the idea of creating a much larger Porn-o-verse of interlocking stories and characters, but you probably don't care and are just looking to find something to masturbate too, which is fair enough.
However, if you would like to read on, here are some links.
The Love Stimulator
The Love Stimulator - A Wet Threesome
The Love Stimulator - The Dentist
The Love Stimulator - School Friend
Also,
Butt Coin
Enjoy!
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My in-laws had already been in town for the last week when, over what I thought was going to be our last dinner together, my mother-in-law announced that there had been a lastminute change of plans and they would be staying with us for another week. This abrupt change caught both my husband and his father completely off guard, and they both tried protesting, but my mother-in-law shot them both down like the evil witch she is. As for me, a red, murderous mist settled over my eyes as I reached across the table for a butter knife to kill her with. One of us would not survive another week together with her near constant snide comments about my hair, weight, job choice, and parenting skills.
Luckily for my children's delicate psyches, my husband saw me grab a hold of the butter knife before I could kill their grandmother in front of them. In a single deft move, he casually managed to throw his cloth napkin over my hand where no one at the table could see me clutch the knife. "Are you sure you want to stay another week," my husband said as he attempted to wrestle the knife from my hand without our children or his parents seeing what I was planning. After an intense struggle, he overpowered me and took the knife from me, but I managed to kick him hard from under the table. "Jesus Christ!" he burst out.
"Language!" chided his mother, like my husband was still a teenager. "I will not have anyone taking the Lord's name in vain in this house!"
I bolted to my feet and for a second, I seriously thought about tipping our heavy wooden table over on top of her. If I did it just right, I might be able to crush her to death without maiming any of my children.
My husband jumped up too and put his arms around me in a loving gesture, before he turned to his mother. "We must use the toilet."
"Aren't you going to ask for permission to leave the table?" she said all innocent like. "I say, some people's manners these days."
My eyes went wide, but before I could scream, he grabbed me by the waist with one hand and quickly covered my mouth with the other. He picked me up and carried me out of our dining room, through the kitchen, towards the downstairs toilet. Once inside he closed the door, and I bit his hand.
"Ouch!" he yelped. As he shook his hand.
"I want to kill her!" I quietly shrieked.
"I know, and so do I, and so probably does my father. Them staying another week is as much as a punishment for him as it is us."
"Can't she just go back to whatever demonic country club for old white women that she crawled out of." I cried. "Why is she doing this to us?"
"It's the villa in France," he said as he sat down on the toilet and rubbed his hands on his face.
"What?"
"My father says that this whole week has been about the villa in France. Of course, he wants to leave it to us, but she keeps on talking about giving it to some dog shelter or some other bullshit."
"Oh," I said, suddenly a little sorry that I had bit him so hard. "You know that's pretty crazy even for her, right?"
"Of course, I do. I hate her too," he said as he looked up at me with his big blue eyes. "But I also really want that villa in France."
The two of us, stopped and stared at each other for a few seconds.
"You know that I can't go back to the table and play nice with her," I said as I just about kept the murderous rage out of my voice. "Maybe tomorrow I can, but not tonight."
"I know," he said as he thought about it for a minute, before an idea struck him, he dismissed it, and then finally just let it come out, "Why don't you...um...why don't you get out of the house and go see one of your...you know...friends."
My heart stopped for a second while I tried to figure out how much he knew about my recent extramarital lesbian activities. It wasn't something that I meant to happen, but once I learned that I could have really great, multi-orgasmic sex with my friends, our dentist, my work mates, and random women off of the street, I was addicted, and I didn't want to stop. "What do you mean by friends?"
"I know that you've been having lesbian sex with other women," he blurted out with a look of terror on his face, as if he was afraid to say the words himself.
I stood there frozen, while I waited for him to scream, cry, or to call his mother in, but he didn't.
"Its fine. Okay?" he said as he held up his hands defensively before he reached into his trousers and pulled out his phone, and opened up an Excel chart that showed a horseshoe shaped line graph that was rapidly sloping positively up on the far-right hand side.
"What is it?" I asked confused at what he was showing me.
"I've charted our sex lives over the last five years," he said as he pointed at the graph. "Each tick along the x-axis is a month, and each tick along the y-axis is the number of times we had sex in that month. Up until eight months ago, you can see that the trend line is rapidly sloping towards zero. Each month we were having less and less sex. At that rate I was worried that by the end of last year, we would hit zero and stop having sex all together. But then, something happened, and suddenly we started to have more sex--I mean a lot more sex--than ever."
"I can't believe you graphed our sex life."
"I'm a data guy. People pay me good money to make charts like this for them," he said with a shrug. "I'm guessing that the turn around point was when you started to have sex with the other mothers from school."