Joyce, My Mother-in-Law
Hey, this is my third story about my mother-in-law. I did "A Thryst with my Mother in Law" and "Widowed Mother-in-law Fun" before this. I'm kinda hooked on the in-law thing--it's hot to me. Maybe I'll write a fourth one if I feel like it. Here's the third one, enjoy!
So the pandemic's finally calmed down, and me and my wife got lucky with it. We both get to work from home some days now--I'm home Mondays and Tuesdays, she's got Thursdays and Fridays. No more driving to work those days, which is awesome. More time for stuff, you know? I'm Mike, 42, and my wife Charlene's 45. We got three kids--two girls, Kristie who's 11 and Phyllis who's 9, and a crazy 6-year-old boy, Paul Jr., who's always running around, breaking stuff or yelling.
My in-laws live with us too. It's cool though. Their old house got signed over to Charlene when we got married, so they've got their own spot here--a parking space, their own door to a little living room with a TV, and a bedroom with a bathroom. There's a door from their part to our house through a hallway, so they're always popping into the kitchen or backyard like it's nothing.
We get along good with them--Paul and Joyce. They help out with money and chores, which is a big deal. Paul's gonna be 70 next month, and we're planning a surprise party for him, maybe with a cake and some balloons. Joyce, my mother-in-law, is in her mid-60s, and yeah, I've had the hots for her forever. Every time she's around, I can't help it--I picture her naked, wonder what she'd look like. It turns me on big time, but I've never seen her with nothing on. Work always kept me too busy, and usually the whole family's around when we're together--Kristie and Phyllis giggling, Paul Jr. zooming toy cars across the floor. But now, with the pandemic stuff slowing down and me home more, I'm seeing her different.
Like this Monday morning. I'm working from home, and Joyce comes wandering out in this tight white t-shirt, no bra, fresh out of bed. It's getting cold with winter coming, and I turned the heat down last night, so the house is chilly. Her nipples are sticking out like crazy through that shirt. I'm heading to the kitchen for a snack--maybe some chips or a peanut butter sandwich--when she walks down the hall toward me.
"Morning, Joyce," I say, giving her a big grin. "Just grabbing a sandwich. You and Paul eat yet?"
She catches me looking and crosses her arms over her chest fast, but not before I see everything. My heart starts going.
"Morning, Mike," she says, smiling like it's no big deal. "Paul's still sleeping. I woke up with a dry mouth, just need water. I can make you that sandwich though."
"Nah, it's cool," I tell her, waving her off. "Still cold in here. I'll turn the heat up. When Paul's up, maybe you can make us breakfast? Some eggs or something?"
She nods, and I'm stuck imagining her ripping that shirt off, those big soft boobs falling out. I didn't put underwear on--just pajama pants and a t-shirt from when I rolled out of bed. Charlene's at work, Kristie, Phyllis, and Paul Jr. are at school, and it hits me--this could be my chance. It's risky, but I'm hyped. My pajama pants got that flap in front with one button, and it's still open from sleeping naked. I grab my bathrobe, tie it loose so you can still see the front, and--crazy idea--I undo the flap a little so the tip of my dick's poking out. I check the mirror. Yep, it's showing, and it'll come out more if I move. I go to my desk, check some emails, get ready for work. My online meeting's not till after lunch.
Later, Joyce comes back into the kitchen. She's got a robe over that t-shirt now, but it's still tight on her. I walk in for coffee, acting chill.
"Hey, Joyce, heat's on now--warmer, huh?" I say, sniffing. "Smells good. What's cooking?"
"Thanks, Mike," she says, giving me a little smile. "Got cheese and bacon in the toaster, eggs boiling, fresh bread, peanut butter out. Just waiting on Paul to get up."
I'm standing there, robe kinda open, and her eyes flick down real quick before she looks up.
"You hungry?" she asks, all casual.
My heart's pounding. She saw it, I know she did, and she's acting like it's nothing.
"Nah, I'll wait for Paul," I say, grabbing the coffee pot. "Just want this."
"Okay," she says, turning to the stove. "Oh, kettle's on--eggs are ready." Her eyes sneak down again as she moves.
I go back to my desk, all excited. She's playing it cool, but she looked twice. I'm feeling brave now--gonna push it. Paul finally gets up, and I eat breakfast with them, keeping my robe shut around him. Eggs, cheese, bacon, coffee--good stuff. Then I pretend I gotta hit the bathroom, but I hang around to listen.
"I'm heading out," Paul says from the kitchen. "Patrick needs a ride to the hospital."
"Say hi to him and Helen for me," Joyce yells back, washing dishes. "I'll stay here, do some laundry--Kristie's socks, Phyllis's pajamas, Paul Jr.'s muddy shirts."
The door shuts, and Joyce heads to the laundry room. Perfect. I run from the bathroom to my bedroom, pull the sheets off the bed, and wait. She'll come back this way with the empty basket. My robe's open now, everything hanging out. When she walks in, I'm holding the sheets in front of me, heart going nuts.
"Got any laundry?" she asks, like she doesn't notice.
"Yeah, these sheets and the hamper stuff," I say, trying not to sound shaky.
"Bring it to the laundry room," she says, walking off.
I grab the hamper, toss in the sheets, and follow her. She's sorting clothes--whites, colors--when I get there. I put the hamper down, step closer, letting it all show. Her eyes get big for a second, but she bends over the pile like it's normal.
"So, Joyce, how's your day?" I ask, leaning on the door, acting chill.
"Good so far, thanks," she says, not looking up. "You working?"
"Nah, just a meeting later," I say, moving closer. "Need help?"
She stops, hands in the clothes. "Yeah, actually--can you grab the kids' laundry? Kristie and Phyllis's sheets, Paul Jr.'s stuff, whatever's in their rooms?"
"Sure," I say.
