Living With My Mother In Law Ch 03

Better than the sex that he ever had with his wife, Janice; Roger finally had sex with his mother-in-law, Christine.

Warning: This story has graphic and explicit sex of a mother-in-law having incestuous sex with her son-in-law. If a mother-in-law having sex with her son-in-law offends you, please read another story. Conversely, if you always wanted to have sex with your wife's mother, your MILF of a mother-in-law, then, please continue reading.

If you always wanted to kiss your mother-in-law, French kiss her, and make out with her while touching her and feeling her through her clothes, then, you should like reading this story. If you always wanted your wife's mother to see you naked, stroke you, and suck you before fucking you, then, this story is for you. If you always wanted to see your mother-in-law naked, finger her, lick her, before making love to her, then, this is the next best thing.

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Revised, rewritten, and continued from Chapter 02:

For an older woman, not looking her age, looking ten-years younger, she was so, very pretty. Where most women her age, especially after birthing babies gain weight, no longer exercise, and/or take care of themselves, Christine stayed fit. She was so, very sexy. Discovering what he didn't want in a woman after being married to her daughter, Janice, with her mother, Christine, living with me all of these months, he knew what he wanted in a woman now.

What he wanted in a woman was her. He wanted his wife's mother. He wanted Christine. Odd for him to admit, with her already in his head, something that he hadn't told her yet, but what Roger wanted was his mother-in-law in his bed. Willing to do anything to keep her, he was willing to do anything to kiss her. He was willing to do anything to have an intimate, sexual relationship with her, and to have sex with her.

Nervously thinking about what to say and how to say it, first, he was eager to test the water by telling her how he truly felt. Tempted and determined to do so, he debated if he should tell her what he was thinking or not. Curious to know what her answer would be to his sexual question, yet, he didn't want to offend her.

Knowing full well that some women desire to be taken, especially women her are, he could have just taken her in his arms and kissed her. He could have taken her in his arms and touched and felt her everywhere through her nightgown while kissing her, French kissing her. Yet, needing to tread lightly, he didn't want to offend her. Deserving more respect than that, she was his mother-in-law and not some whore. He didn't want to make her feel pressured and/or feel uncomfortable.

Certainly, not wanting to ruin a good thing, needing her to stay, he didn't want her to leave. They were not only good for one another and good together but also, they deeply cared for one another. Able to see it in her eyes, he knew that she loved him as much as I loved her. He took a big gulp of his wine for courage before asking her his sexually charged and inappropriate question.

Before asking her the question, as if just meeting her and as if she was a stranger, he paused to look at her. He looked at her shoulder length, brown hair. He looked at her brown eyes. He looked at her pretty face. He looked at the big impressions that her breasts made in her nightgown. Christine was so much prettier than his wife, her daughter, Janice.

Then, undressing her with his eyes and looking at her as if she was sitting before him naked, he looked at all that he could see of her naked body through her nightgown. With her nightgown so very sheer, able to see through her nightgown as if she was naked, he stared at the size and the shape of her big breasts. He stared at the impressions of her erect nipples. In the way that his cock was hard and erect, her nipples were hard and erect too.

Then, holding nothing back, he took a giant leap of faith and asked her what he was thinking. Not wanting to ruin their close relationship, he was so nervous. Yet, if she said, yes, taking their relationship to the next level by having sex, he'd be so happy.

"Do you want to make out?"

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With everything suddenly happening as if in slow motion, as if the world suddenly stopped spinning, he stared at her staring back at him. Finally revealing herself to him, he read her by the look in her eyes. As if her look was his mirror of instant judgment, and her eyes were the souls to what she was feeling, she seemed taken aback with shock, surprise, and confusion by his sexually, inappropriate question. Admittedly, before blurting out what he was thinking, the words sounded better in his head and unsaid.

Embarrassed now, he felt like a fool when she didn't respond in kind. Obviously, he was hoping that she'd say, yes. He was hoping that she'd agree to make out with him. He was hoping that she'd jump up from the sofa and kiss him. Clearly, she wasn't as sexually attracted to him as he was sexually attracted to her.

Instead, humiliating himself, he was ashamed by asking her such a sexual question, especially when he didn't receive the positive response that he thought that he would, and had hoped to receive. Something that he usually doesn't feel, with him revealing so much of himself to her, he suddenly felt nakedly and vulnerable exposed. Now, she knew more about him than he knew about her.

With her refusing to kiss him, he felt as if he was punched in the gut or kicked in the nuts. Wishing he could take back his question, he couldn't. His sexual feelings for her were already out there. Bad enough that her daughter didn't sexually want him but now her mother didn't sexually want him either.

'What was I thinking,' he thought? 'This is my mother-in-law and not some whore that I picked up in a bar and brought home for the night. My fault for thinking that she'd want to fool around, how dare I solicit her for sex? With her my wife's mother, she deserved more respect than that. What's wrong with me,' he thought?'

After making a fool of himself by asking her if she wanted to make out, clearly, her way of easing the tension of the moment, she laughed. First, she looked at him with amusement as if he was joking. Then, she looked at him with confusion before she looked at him with serious interest. Having never looked at him in this way before, he wondered if she was considering kissing him.

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Then, finally, for a brief instant, with a flash of sexual arousal in her eyes, unable to control her involuntary reaction to him asking her if she wanted to make out, she showed him the MILF of a woman that she was. As if she was embarrassed by the thought of making out with him, a glimmer of sexual arousal crossed her face and reddened her cheeks. Clearly, she was imagining kissing him in the way that he had masturbated multiple times over the thoughts of imagining kissing her.

Perhaps, there was hope for them kissing and making out while he touched her and felt her everywhere through her clothes. Perhaps, there was hope for them having a sexual relationship after all. He'd love nothing more than to make out with her while slowly stripping her naked and having sex with her. Granted, a given, she was much older than him but, clearly, by her brief sexually aroused look, she had sexual feelings for him in the way that he had sexual feelings for her.

"Do I want to make out? With you? Seriously?"

She laughed again before falling silent. Then, again, as if she was considering kissing him and making out with him, she stared at him while he stared at her. Nonetheless her look of sexual interest, unable to take back what he had said, he felt like such a fool, especially when she laughed at his serious question.

"Make out? What do you mean by make out?"

As if she was his psychologist and he was her patient, as if analyzing him, she paused to give him a curious look.

"Do you mean, kissing me?"

She paused to look at him as if she was considering her response and considering kissing him. For a minute, he thought she was going to lean forward and kiss him. He imagined her soft, warm lips pressed against his lips. He imagined her allowing him to part her lips with his tongue and French kiss her. He imagined feeling her big, naked breasts and fingering her erect nipples through her nightgown while French kissing her.

"You want to kiss me?" She looked at him stunned. "Is that it?"

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In the way that she rapidly fired questions at him, he could tell that he had made her nervous. Moreover, unless he was wrong and was totally off base, he could tell that she wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her. He could tell that she wanted to make out with him as much as he wanted to make out with her.

Now that his sexual lust for her was revealed and out in the open, the ball was in her field. Whatever she'd allow him to do or not do to her sexy and shapely body was, clearly, up to her. Would she allow him to kiss her or not? Did she want to make out with him or not? He'd love to make out with his mother-in-law. The wait for her to answer his question was intolerable.

Yet, surely, she wasn't a dumb or a clueless woman. With her having been around longer than him, she knew the score. In the way that he looked at her with his sad, blue eyes, she must have known that he was sexually attracted to her. She must have known that he wanted to kiss her. She must have known that he wanted to strip her naked and have forbidden sex with her beautiful, mature body.

Whatever happened or didn't happen next was entirely up to her. Reassuring himself that he had made the right decision by asking her his question and revealing how he felt, he felt better asking her his sexually charged and inappropriate question. He smiled and nodded his head with the sexual anticipation of kissing her. Not closing the door now, having nothing to lose, he continued making a fool of myself.

"Yes, I'd love to kiss you, Christine," he said. "I'd love to know what it's like to hold you while looking in your eyes and kissing you."

As if she was pondering his question and as if her answer was somewhere there in her wine glass, as if she was a gypsy reading tea leaves, she stared down at her wine while continuing to ponder his question. Then, she looked up at him to ask him her own question. Careful not to offend her or insult her, with this a make or break question, he needed to consider his response before answering her.

"Now, why would you want to make out with me, an old woman, a woman who's old enough to be your mother?"

Chapter 03:

'Why would I want to make out with an older woman, a woman old enough to be my mother, a MILF of a woman who looks like you,' he thought while laughing to himself?

Let me count the ways, he thought why he'd love to make out with his MILF of a mother-in-law. He looked at her as if he was undressing her with his eyes and, indeed, he was. He imagined her in her low-cut, revealing, white bra. He imagined her in her white, sexy, bikini panties. He imagined her topless. He imagined seeing, touching, and feeling her naked breasts and fingering her erect nipples. He imagined seeing her trimmed, brown pussy and her shapely, round, naked ass. He imagined seeing her naked, totally naked.

He imagined rubbing her clit and fingerfucking her pussy while reaching up with his other hand to fondle her naked breasts and finger her erect nipples. He imagined giving her a sexual orgasm with his fingers. He imagined making himself comfortable in between her shapely thighs and fingering her while licking her. He imagined giving her a second sexual orgasm with his fingers and tongue. He imagined making slow and sweet love to her before fucking her hard and fast. He imagined giving her a third sexual orgasm with his cock.

"You're hardly an old woman. Fifty is the new forty," he said with a loud laugh. "I find you very pretty. You may not realize just how pretty you are but, one in a million, you are quite attractive." As if trying to guess how old she was, even though he already knew her age, he looked at her in the way that he'd look at any potential, sexual partner. "You don't look your age. You look much younger. You look ten-years younger. And you're sexy, very sexy," he said.

She beamed with his compliments and squirmed in her seat on the couch. He could clearly see that his admitted, sexual interest in her was getting to her. If nothing else, she seemed flattered by his sexual interest in her.

While hoping that he was reading all of the sexual signals correctly, he hoped that she'd have sex with him. Hoping that he wasn't misreading her, he suspected that she wanted to have sex with him, too. With her already taking his bait, now that she was on his hook, he just needed to reel her in and put her in his bed instead of in his boat.

"I've been wondering what it would be like to kiss you," he said while hoping that she'd take the not so subtle hint and allow him to kiss her, French kiss her.

Making him feel awkwardly uncomfortable, instead of looking at him as a potential lover, she looked at him as a mother would look at her precociously, naughty son asking her to kiss him, French kiss him. She looked at him as if she was about to scold him for dare asking her to make out with him. Then, again, as if she was wondering what it would be like to kiss him, with her unable to hide it and unable to stop it, that quick, involuntarily look of sexually arousal flashed across her face again.

"If a kiss is what you want, and all that you want, I can kiss you. I can do that," she said with a shrug. "What's a kiss between friends? It's not a big deal, but a sign of close affection. We can kiss," she said with a nervous, little laugh.

Then, she paused to study him with a stare. While wondering what she was thinking, she stared at him longer and harder. While wondering what she'd say, he braced himself for her disapproval of having him as her lover.

"Yet, if you're looking for or expecting sex, I can't help you with that. That's not a good idea," she said slowly shaking her head as if she needed that extra bit of head movement to convince her not to have sex with him.

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She leaned forward in her seat on the couch and when she did, she parted her knees as if she was doing an impression of Rodin's stature, The Thinker. When she parted her knees and with her short nightgown moved thigh high, it was as if she was deliberately flashing him her naked cunt. As if answering his question of making out with her by flashing him, she flashed him her naked pussy again.

Only, this time, instead of giving him a quick flash of her naked cunt with crossing or uncrossing her legs, she gave him a continual flash of her naked pussy by spreading her knees. As if she was a nude model in an anatomy art class, he saw all that she wanted to show him and all that he wanted to see of her naked pussy. He saw her tuft of trimmed, brown pubic hair. He saw her pussy mound. He saw her pussy slit and her camel toe. He even had a clear, prolonged, and uninterrupted view of her clitoris.

Making him so very horny, he loved seeing his mother-in-law's naked pussy. He couldn't wait to finger Christine's cunt. He couldn't wait to lick her pussy while fingering her pussy. He couldn't wait to rub her clit and fingerfuck her pussy deep enough to give her another sexual orgasm. He couldn't wait to make love to her before fucking her.

Yet, with her saying one thing with her lips about her willingness to kiss him, as long as it doesn't include them having sex, she contradicted herself by flashing him her naked pussy again. In the way that his cock was hard, erect, and ready for sexual action, her pussy was glistening wet and ready for sexual action, too. Obviously, by spreading her legs, she wanted him to see her naked pussy. Making sure that he did, as if she was a drunken sailor sitting on a stoop, she parted her knees even wider.

'Was flashing me her naked pussy telling me that she wanted to have sex with me,' he thought?

Even though she was playing coy and, sometimes, playing the innocent virgin, clearly, by flashing him and sexually teasing him, she wanted to make out with him as much as he wanted to make out with her. Clearly, she wanted to have sex with him as much as he wanted to have sex with her. If judging them by this brief exchange of exhibitionistic gamesmanship, they'd soon be naked and in bed together having forbidden sex.

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"I wouldn't want to spoil our close friendship by having sex," she said as her excuse not to have sex with him. "I wouldn't want to ruin a good thing. I'd rather keep things the way that they are, unencumbered without sex and without our deep, emotional feelings complicating things," she said while lying through her teeth.

He looked at her with a face full of disappointment mixed with more than a modicum of disbelief.

'Bullshit,' he thought. 'Instead of ruining out friendship, we'd sexually excite our friendship. After having sex, we'd be much closer than we are now. After having sex with her, I'd swear my allegiance to her. I'd tell her that I loved her,' he thought while hoping that they'd have sex.

Yet, with her not fooling him one bit, without a doubt, she wanted to stroke him in the way that he wanted to finger her. She wanted to suck him in the way that he wanted to lick her. She wanted to make love to him in the way that he wanted to make love to her. She wanted to fuck him in the way that he wanted to fuck her.

With them sitting in the living room practically naked while flashing one another, even if they were unclear about it, their sexual intentions were very clear. Advertising and telegraphing what they both wanted, with her flashing him her naked pussy and much of her naked breasts, he continued flashing her the exposed side of his erect, naked cock. Only, flashing was a watered-down substitute for naked sex.

A real setback with her saying no, clearly, they both wanted sex. They both wanted to give one another sex, forbidden sex, and sexual pleasure. Christine wanted to stroke, suck, and fuck him as much as I wanted to finger, lick, and fuck his mother-in-law. Only, with her from a different generation, a generation that was more refined and modest, he needed to help her along.

Taking their friendship to the next level, it was obvious that they wanted more than just friendship. They both wanted and needed sexual intimacy. They both wanted and needed sex. Who better for her to have sex with than to have sex with than with him, her handsome, young son-in-law? Who better for him to have sex with than with her, his sexy, MILF of a mother-in-law?

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She was talking too much again. He knew her well enough to know that when she talked a lot, she was nervous with the conversation. Obviously, he made her uncomfortable by asking her such a sexually inappropriate question. Obviously, she felt embarrassed, ashamed, or wicked that she wanted to have sex with him as much as he wanted to have sex with her.

Perhaps, she was thinking the same thing about kissing him and making out with him that he was thinking about kissing her and making out with her. Yet, when hearing the question coming from him, a reality check, clearly, he embarrassed her. Perhaps, beating her to the punchline, the question that he asked her was a question that she was considering asking him.

He stood and walked to the couch to stand in front of her. With her leaning forward and with her nightgown top leaning forward with her, from where he was standing, he had a clear down nightgown view of her naked tits. He could clearly see the tops of her big, naked breasts and her long line of sexy cleavage. He could see her erect, naked nipples and her symmetrical areolas.

With her seemingly unembarrassed and/or unashamed, and with her knowing full well that he could see much of her big tits, she made no move to close her top. She didn't seem to care that he could see her naked breasts. If he was to guess, the exhibitionist in her, she wanted him to see her naked breasts as much as he wanted to see her naked breasts.