Joe McDonnel looked at his mother in law through partially closed eyes. She really was well preserved, he had to admit. A natural blonde with a figure to die for. 36D tits, slim waist and hips and an arse like a goddess. She was an older version of her daughter and Joe remembered the old saying that if you want to know what your wife will look like when she’s older then look at the mother. Just looking at her made his cock twitch. His fantasy was to fuck the mother as well as the daughter. Little chance of that though he though ruefully. To say she had been les than pleased when her daughter chose the grandson of Irish immigrants for her husband was putting it mildly. “You cannot marry the son of a labourer in your father’s factory.” She had raved at her daughter. “He’ll never fit in with our lifestyle, and what will our friends say?” But no amount of badgering had dissuaded Cheryl Morgan from changing her name to McDonnel. Joe was handsome with dark , laughing eyes, an unruly mop of brown hair, and what her mother didn’t know, a cock which was capable of keeping Cheryl in orgasmic delight for hours. They had been married now for two years and when Cheryl’s father died just months after the wedding, Joe had taken control of the business, surprising everyone by the competent way he ran it. The McDonnels spent each week-end with Cheryl’s mother in the family home that was large enough to hold two football fields. It reeked of money and was situated on the outskirts of town away from the ‘riff raff’ as Constance Morgan called the townsfolk who lived in the small crowded houses near the Morgan factory. The fact that Joe’s family hailed from that part of town only seemed to add to the contempt in which she held those residents. This particular week-end they were not entertaining nor going out to friends and so they were casually dressed and lounging around in the family room. It was a warm Saturday evening and after a day at the poolside they were all a little lethargic. Joe had suggested a game of canasta but the two women were unenthusiastic and said they preferred to relax with a glass of wine. The housekeeper and her husband had been given the night off so the family were alone in the house. There was ring at the door bell.
“Who can that be?” Constance asked, “We’re not expecting anyone are we?”
“Not that I know of.” Joe replied as he moved to answer the bell.
He opened the door and was confronted by two large men wearing ski masks. Before he could make a move or say anything, he was grabbed by the throat and pushed back into the hall. The door was closed and one of the men said, “Make a sound and you’re a dead man.”
“Who is it Joe?” Constance’s question was cut short as the trio, Joe in front being held at arm’s length followed by the two intruders, entered the room.
Cheryl screamed and ran to her mother.
“Shut up bitch or he gets it.” The first man snarled.
Constance was beginning to recover some of her composure. “I think you had better leave before I call the police.” She started to move towards the telephone. The second man was too quick for her and grabbed the phone and tore it from its connection. In almost the same motion he backhanded Constance across the face. “Now sit down and do what you are told or that will be nothing to what you will get.” Joe had never seen his mother in law lost for words before but then he had never seen her treated like this before. She sat down hard on the nearest chair, the magnificence of her breasts accentuated by their movement. He was pulled into another chair and tied to it so that he was immobile. His wife still stood as if turned to stone until she was pushed down onto the couch by the first man. She gave a small yelp as she hit the seat.
“I said shut up, bitch.” She was treated to the same backhand swipe that had silenced her mother.