It's ten years since I first made love to my mother-in-law, though I probably ought to correct a couple of discrepancies in that statement:
Ten years ago Claire wasn't my mother-in-law; her daughter Penny and I weren't married until three years later. Secondly, a more accurate description would've been when I first fucked Claire, as it was more akin to rape than love-making. The degree of resistance with which Claire's met my advances over the subsequent years has waned, but I still invariably have to overcome Claire's moral reticence, before her inner vixen escapes.
How would I describe Claire? That's quite easy, just picture a slightly older version of the actress Carey Mulligan, five feet six, one hundred and fifteen pounds, shoulder length fair hair, somewhat elfin featured and with large, deep-brown eyes; though as I've discovered to my pleasure, Claire's far less fragile than her appearance might suggest.
Claire married her childhood sweetheart at eighteen, moved into a house less than three miles from where she'd grown up and had borne two daughters by the age of twenty one; due to a work-place accident, she was then widowed before her twenty-third birthday. Whether Claire's self-effacing disposition is a natural phenomenon or a result of her parochial life and early widowhood, I couldn't say, but it's altered little over the years.
It was Friday lunchtime; I'd been dating Penny for a little over four months and was becoming increasingly frustrated. Penny was drop-dead gorgeous, but to date had been resolute in her refusal to go to bed with me. We were heading off to a weekend music festival that evening and as I was discussing with my elder brother in the pub when I received the phone call, I'd high hopes that this was going to be the weekend when Penny finally put out; she'd certainly implied that it might be.
The call was from Penny herself, explaining that she wasn't going to get away from work early as planned and since I had a free afternoon, asking me to drive across to her place to pick up her overnight bag, before collecting her straight from the office at six-o'clock. Penny still lived at home with her mother, but as she wouldn't be in that afternoon either - Claire worked and indeed still works, in the local library -- I would need to go around to Penny's office first to collect a door key.
Having assured Penny that it wasn't a problem, I finished my pint, then walked over to pick up the key, making some quip about it being unnecessary as I wasn't planning on her having much need for clothing over the weekend anyway. Penny responded to that with a wry smile, before whispering: "Sorry Paul, but you're out of luck; it's that time of the month, so I won't even need to worry about fighting you off this weekend."
I tried hard to conceal my disappointment, but I doubt that I was successful, managing nothing beyond a tight smile as I left Penny to get on with her work and quickly departing. I was seriously pissed-off, so rather than going directly to collect the holdall, I returned to the pub to drown my frustration with a couple more beers and perhaps garner a few words of consolation from my brother.
It was four o'clock before I drove over to Skelton Cottage and to be honest, I'd probably had more beer than was legal or even safe to be driving by the time that I went. After all that beer and despite a high speed trip across there, I was in dire need of a leak by the time I arrived; dashing out of the car, I unlocked the front door and rushed straight upstairs and into the bathroom.
As I opened the door and walked in, a naked Claire had just stepped out of the shower cubicle and what followed was like a scene from a stage farce. Claire shrieked in a combination of surprise and embarrassment, while frantically trying to cover her modesty; one hand for each of her pert breasts, whilst a contorted twist of the hips and a raised leg served to somewhat imperfectly conceal the triangle of wispy blonde hair between her thighs.
For my own part, I was desperately trying to absorb as much of this spectacle as possible, while at the same time attempting to give the impression that I was doing just the opposite. After a few seconds I passed Claire a towel and retreated back to the landing, offering apologies over my shoulder as I closed the door. With Claire's dignity restored by the closing door, I voiced further apologies through it and explained the events which had led to my unannounced intrusion.
Claire responded, by relating how some kiddie had thrown up on her at the Library, so she'd come home earlier than usual to get cleaned up and change her clothes. Interspersed with snatches of embarrassed laughter, explanations were completed, further apologies were tendered and accepted, whereafter I retreated to the foot of the stairs until the bathroom became free.
Two minutes later Claire flitted across the landing, wrapped in a small towel, which did more to emphasise her curves than to mask them. Once again I strived to obtain the best view that I could manage, while appearing to do just the reverse; my efforts being assisted by a providentially placed mirror. Having reached the sanctuary of her bedroom Claire called down: "I'm out, the Bathroom's Free!"
I retraced my steps to the bathroom still reviewing what I'd just seen and once there was left in no doubt as to the impact that Claire's nakedness had made on me; my prick was so engorged that I was barely able to drain my bladder. Until then I'd never considered Claire sexually; her fair hair was usually tied back in a severe style, those doe-eyes obscured behind heavy, unflattering glasses and until today, Claire's lithe figure had invariably been masked by the conservative, rather mumsy clothing that she invariably wore.
During my protracted piss, I continued visualising Claire's gorgeous body and contemplating what I'd like to do with it; as a result my cock got even stiffer. Perhaps it was the frustration of Penny's latest knock-back, certainly the amount of alcohol sloshing around in my bloodstream contributed, but the testosterone was pumping and my fantasies began running wild:
Claire had by then been widowed for almost seventeen years and allegedly had never dated since; so, she was obviously 'gagging' for it and had engineered this whole incident with the express purpose of getting me to satisfy her long repressed sexual needs. It sounds ridiculous in hindsight, but I was young, semi-inebriated and sexually frustrated; in seconds I'd stripped off my clothes, dropped them onto the bathroom floor and tip-toed across the landing to stand outside Claire's bedroom door.
I hesitated just long enough to steady my breathing before wrenching open the door to find Claire clad only in a pair of panties - plain white, exactly what I would've expected - and in the process of fitting a matching bra. Claire's attention was immediately caught by my sudden appearance; in less than a second her face registered surprise, followed by confusion and finally, in that moment when Claire's brain registered my nudity and state of arousal, understanding dawned and her expression settled into one of horrified realisation.
Claire glanced around, flitting first left and then right, vainly searching for an escape route, before finally stepping backward; all that she achieved was to catch her legs on the bed and overbalance with a shriek. As Claire fell on the counterpane, her semi-fastened bra rode upward to reveal her pert breasts and that spectacle proved even better than my earlier glimpse had promised: Claire's boobs whilst small, were firm, full and tipped with exceptionally large and given her pale complexion, surprisingly dark, brown nipples.
I was captivated and for several seconds simply stared, until Claire's embarrassment overcame her fear and she sat upright, trying to replace her disarrayed bra. "No!" I cried, as I stepped forward to rip it from Claire's shoulders before she had a chance to fasten the clasp. Claire threw her arms protectively across her breasts and when I tried to pull them away she resisted tenaciously; not to be denied I delivered a sharp slap her face and demanded that she: "Uncover them, right now!"
While the blow wasn't hard, the surprise of it was sufficient to tumble Claire back down onto to the bed, where she began to weep. Claire still resolutely kept her breasts covered and it was only when I growled: "Don't make me have to tell you again" that Claire relented and slowly lowered her arms, allowing me to revel in her body once again.
It was hard to imagine that this was a mother who was approaching forty; her breasts sat high and her belly displayed no trace of the two daughters that she'd borne, indeed it was flatter than that of her daughter. Back then I'd never heard of the terms MILF or Yummy-Mummy, but they could have been aptly applied to Claire; it was evident that rather than simply failing to make the most of her assets, Claire had been actively disguising them.
My eyes for the moment sated, I knelt on the bed beside Claire and lightly stroked my fingertips across her breast, she trembled but offered no resistance; encouraged by Claire's apparent capitulation, my caresses became increasingly vigorous, crudely groping each breast in turn - small certainly, but by God they were firm - and rolling her fat brown nipples roughly between finger and thumb.
Claire trembled, continued to weep and occasionally flinched at my aggressive mauling, but offered no further resistance until I leaned over her to a take a nipple into my mouth. She raised her arms once again, this time to fend me off and whispered plaintively: "Paul, you have to stop this now; I'm old enough to be your mother."
Claire's final plea was stretching the truth a little, I was a couple of years older than her daughters and with the way birthdays fell, there was only a sixteen year gap between our respective ages. Notwithstanding, Claire's appeal fell on deaf-ears; I twisted her left nipple savagely and ordered her to drop her arms and as Claire winced and complied, I lowered my head and began suckling on Claire's right one.
