Unbelievable can be the only word to describe the night I spent at my fiancées house several weeks ago. The ironic twist however, is that it didn't involve my fiancée what-so-ever. Tara and I had been engaged for three months but had been dating for more than two years. We lived in a small two bedroom condo outside the city where we both just finished college, and often escaped the fast pass of work life, to a small cabin in the mountains ninety miles north of the city. The cabin had been bought by Tara's parents roughly ten years ago as a retreat for themselves, but since her father's unexpected passing five years ago, her mother Beverly rarely used its seclusion.
The weekend started on a hectic Friday afternoon when Tara and I made the decision that it had been a long, stressful week and the timing would be perfect to head up to the mountains for a couple of days. Our plan was to finish work early, load up the truck and spend a relaxing three days to ourselves. This plan however started to unravel early that afternoon when Tara called to say that she would have to work later than expected.
Wanting to get a start on the weekend, we decided that I would go ahead and leave early, pack everything we would need for the weekend and head up to prepare the cabin when she would arrive later for dinner. This was ok by me as it would allow me to have a little alone time, and plenty to spare to get dinner prepared and ready for when she arrived.
After an uneventful drive through the winding country roads, I rounded a curve knowing that the cabin would soon come into view. Just before turning into the gravel entrance road I caught the glimmer of paint from a car parked in the cabin's driveway. I immediately recognized the Lexus as the one owned by Tara's mother Beverly, and grimaced at the thought that we forgot to call to see if she would be using the cabin. She so rarely made it up to the mountains any more that our "reservation" calls eventually waned to the expectation that she would never be there. After a quick hesitation to hit the brakes and turn around, I decided that we hadn't seen her in some time and maybe it would be good for us to be together for a few days.
Tara's mother Beverly was a stunning 51 year old woman who remained single since her husband's death, but never had a lack of suitors hoping to fill his place. While she was my fiancée's mom, I admit at times, including her in my fantasies and often taking second glances in her direction when I knew she wasn't looking. To her looks she added an experienced sense of eroticism that on occasion would make me wonder what she does when alone in her bedroom, or even more boldly, what she would be like in bed.
Before I could even get out of the car, Beverly came out of the front door with a broad smile and a wave hello. I apologized for the intrusion, and then asked if she wouldn't mind some company for the weekend. "Of course not." She replied, me knowing full well this would be her response even is she thought otherwise. We had barely gotten my truck unpacked when my cell-phone rang with Tara on the other end saying she was going to have to work later than she thought. I explained that her mother was there, and with that the plan changed for me to stay at the cabin and Tara would drive up to join us first thing in the morning.
Beverly and I talked through dinner, spent an hour or so on the front porch listening to the silence that is the sound of being in the middle of nowhere, and then she decided she was going to hit the sack early so she would be ready when Tara arrived in the morning. I was exhausted my self and thought that that wasn't a bad idea either. Soon the cabin was dark and Beverly and I were secluded in the silence of our separate bedrooms.
I climbed in bed with nothing on but my boxers and soon realized I would be spending the night on top of the covers, enjoying the mountain breeze coming through the open windows. Lying on the bed, I fumbled through various thoughts of the day and finally settled on how Beverly looked on the front porch earlier. I could still envision the skirt inching high above her crossed legs, her blouse buttoned, but a gap near the top revealing a lace, pink colored bra. My imagination began to run with the occasional peak of a hardened nipple beneath the clothing. Soon I could feel the pulse under my shorts and the flutter of getting hard.
Reaching beneath my boxers I gently grabbed the comfortable feeling of my warming cock, giving several slow tugs feeling it respond. With the moonlight glowing through my window, I stroked myself until I could see the head reflecting from the top of my boxers. I lifted the boxers below my now hard member sliding them to the end of the bed. Taking my cock in one hand and gently squeezing my balls in the other, I envisioned Beverly undressing and closed my eyes to the sense of pleasure that continued to grow. Yes, I wanted to make myself come, and I wanted to be thinking about Beverly as I did so.
Spreading my legs I continued to slowly stroke my shaft, holding the now tucking sack below. I allowed my pinky to reach down and titillate my anus, adding to the growing sensations. My breathing became fragmented and in reaction I started arching my back to fuck my hand from below. That's when I heard it.
Lying still on my back, throbbing cock still firm in my hand, I held my breath to see if I could hear it again. Did I just accidentally let out a grown, or could it have possible come from the other room? The pleasure still calling to me, I slowly re-started the stroking of my rigid cock, but held my breath to see if I could hear it again. And I did. In less than a minute, the unmistakable sound of a muffled, moaning sigh came from the other bedroom.
I was so excited and sexually aroused at this point, I couldn't fight the urge to see what my imagination was telling me was happening in the other room. I climbed off of the bed, cock standing at full attention, and crept as quietly as possible toward the sound I heard earlier. In less than a minute I was outside of Beverly's bedroom, peering through the half opened door. A large candle was lit on the nightstand beside the bed, and the flickering light revealed exactly what my imagination was hoping for.
Lying on the bed, head arched back, was Beverly, mouth opened in pleasure. My eyes followed down the length of her body. While her satin nightgown still covered her breasts, through the soft light I could still clearly see the hardness of her nipples. The bottom of her nightgown however was raised up over her belly, allowing her arm and hand easy access to what she was rubbing below. She was slowly fucking herself with one finger, another one expertly circling her clit. From the small patch of hair I caught a glimpse of wetness as she moved. Arching her back she grabbed one of her breasts and through the silk pinched at her nipple. You could tell she was trying to be quiet, but from the door I could hear a gasp release from her throat.
