The Son-in-Law

* This story has a somewhat longer intro than usual. Bear with me.

Tuesday evening

That night at dinner, Anne reminded her husband that she had an early doctor's appointment the next day. She quickly glanced at John, to make sure that he got the message.

'Is something wrong, Mum?' her daughter enquired.

'No, darling. It's just a yearly check-up, but I'll have to go early,' Anne said, hoping that John would understand that she would be unavailable for his needs for a day. Maybe she could catch up with a friend afterwards, perhaps Jenny, or even Sue or Louise, who she hadn't seen for ages.

'I have to go and get some things tomorrow morning,' John responded. 'I can give you a lift. Maybe we can have a coffee afterwards.'

'No, thanks John. I'll be fine. My doctor is over in Hamilton,' Anne responded, not wanting to be with John the next day.

'Actually I was hoping to take the car tomorrow,' her husband cut in. 'I forgot to tell you that I have to make some site visits and all the company cars are out or at the workshop at the moment. It'd be great if John can take you there and you can get the bus back?' he asked with a knitted brow.

Anne was caught. Her husband did not need the car often, and she hated to inconvenience him, as she knew things had been tough at work lately. But she didn't want to depend on John, and the buses in peak hour took forever, and she would need to change. Bugger, she thought. But she also felt guilty already towards her husband and didn't want to make his life harder, so in the end she heard herself saying, 'Ok dear. You take the car and I'll go with John and get the bus home'.

Her heart sank. She had been hoping for a day free of John and his desires, but it was not to be apparently. But maybe it would be better out of the house. John was usually a real gentleman in public. Maybe if they spent some time in the outside world, it would make things better between them. This was the hope she had for the next day.

Wednesday

The next day, when Anne made breakfast for the family, John was at the table too, in a decent pair of jeans for a change, all politeness and ease, joining in the breakfast banter. Then her husband and daughter left, and Anne rushed to take a quick shower before getting ready. She only had 20 minutes before they would have to leave in order to make it to the doctor's by 8.30.

She finished her shower and put on her undies and bra. She had just started to put on the nice cream pleated skirt and grey blouse she had chosen, when John walked in to her bedroom without knocking. He was wearing the jeans and a clean white t-shirt, rather than the boxers and old shirt she usually saw him in. He looked quite presentable really, handsome and athletic-looking. Someone she would not be ashamed to be seen with.

'What are you going to wear?' he asked, watching her, and taking in the curves of her body.

'Just a nice skirt and blouse to see the doctor in,' Anne replied, annoyed that he would ask her something like this.

'Why don't you wear something prettier?' he asked. 'I saw you wearing a red skirt and white blouse one day that looked amazing.'

Anne was taken aback. Which skirt and blouse did he mean, and when had he seen them? She didn't think young men really noticed such things about older women. Then she remembered that she had worn a pretty red skirt with white blouse one weekend to see a friend for lunch a couple of weeks before. How amazing that he had noticed that! He must watch her often she thought, reddening slightly.

'No, those things are too casual to see the doctor in,' she laughed, and began to put on her cream skirt.

But John stopped her from stepping into her skirt, holding her by the arm.

'No Anne. Wear the other ones. You look good in them. I'm sure the doctor will be impressed too.'

Anne protested and tried to put on the clothes she had chosen, but John grabbed the clothes from her and threw them across the room. Anne seethed in frustration. Why was he interfering? It was no business of his what clothes she wore.

She attempted to retrieve the clothes, but John stopped her and dragged her over to her walk-in wardrobe, the wardrobe that he'd forever spoiled for her by fucking her there in the first week of his stay. For a moment, as she struggled there, wearing only her bra and panties, she feared he might push her down again and force her to miss her appointment while he fucked her again amongst all her nice clothes. Maybe the wardrobe would bring out the beast in him again. Time was ticking past and she would soon be late, and she so hated to be late for anything. Punctuality, as her mother had told her and Anne had told her children, is a matter of respect for other people.

'OK Anne. Where's the red skirt?' John's voice brought her back to the problem. He obviously wanted to see her looking pretty, even though it wasn't really appropriate for the doctor. To save time, she quickly found the clothes he wanted and put them on, under John's watchful and approving eye. The skirt was a shortish A-line skirt in a light fabric that moved gaily as she walked. It was pretty, but she rarely wore it as she thought it was too short for her, and it was difficult to control on windy days when she had to keep it from blowing up. The white blouse was also pretty but it was a little tight and low cut and tended to show off the shape of her breasts rather more than she was usually comfortable.

She scowled at herself in the mirror. She looked too pretty for the doctor, but she could see why John had wanted her to wear these clothes. She could see too much leg and too much cleavage. She could also clearly see the outline of her nipples pushing at the blouse, despite the bra. She tried to adjust the blouse to cover herself a bit more, but to little effect. Then she looked at the time. She would be late if she didn't go now. There was no more time to argue with John and try to change. She grimaced to herself, and then rushed out with John, who was smiling at her. Perhaps he meant to indicate his appreciation of her looks, but to Anne it looked like the smirk of a winner.

At first the traffic was slow, and Anne seethed in silence and frustration. John had made her late, and now she would see the doctor dressed like she was a twenty-year-old on a date. Eventually they arrived with only a minute to spare, and she ran into the waiting room, only to be kept waiting twenty minutes as the doctor had squeezed in a young expectant mother before her.

The appointment went well, the doctor commenting how well she looked. Her blood pressure was better than normal, and the doctor checked her breasts and found no lumps or worrying signs. Then the doctor gave her a pap smear, after which she commented that Anne's vagina was looking very healthy, and asked if she had been exercising a lot, or if her sex life had improved. Anne blushed and said that it had somewhat, but of course she couldn't go into details. But it was embarrassing that the doctor could tell she had been fucking a lot recently.

So the doctor gave her a clean bill of health and told her to come back in a year. Anne was relieved of course, and left to look for a bus. But the first thing she saw when she came out of the door was John, waiting on the footpath for her. She was glad in a way, as she did not much like this part of town, which was not as nice as her leafy suburb. She didn't fancy getting two buses home, as you never know who would sit next to you on the bus, particularly around here. She didn't like to be elitist, but unemployment had been high around here since a spate of factory closures, and unemployment made people a bit meaner.

'Everything ok?' John asked, patting her shoulder lightly. Anne nodded and managed a half-smile. She couldn't tell him that the doctor had complimented the state of her vagina, or he would think he was helping her!

'Good. Let's go for a coffee before we go home,' he said. Anne didn't much care for a coffee with him, but didn't have a good argument against such a course. Besides a coffee would be nice after the stress of rushing to the appointment.

John parked near the Hamilton shops, and they walked along the pedestrian mall. Anne had driven past but never stopped here before. The council had built it as a leafy centre when the suburb was built twenty years before, but it had not been looked after and looked a bit down at heel. There were a number of closed shops as well as shops selling cheap things and fast food places. They passed a dingy-looking café with a couple of tables outside, but kept walking. At least John didn't take her there.

As they walked Anne noticed that she was attracting lots of glances and stares from the men and boys they passed. A group of four workman nudged each other to check her out. She couldn't help it if her boobs bounced a little as she walked. Usually men would be surreptitious in checking out her impressive breasts, and usually she wore more modest outfits. But today she could feel her nipples hard against the fabric and the cool air between her legs as she walked in this shorter-than-usual skirt, and the men seemed to be reacting accordingly.

Anne blushed and hoped they would soon reach John's destination. At last they made it to an impressive glass and wood-fronted café-restaurant called Chez Dianne at the far end of the mall. Inside the café was lovely, airy and relaxed - quite a contrast to the drab pedestrian area outside. However did John know about such a nice place? He led her to a half-booth table at the far end of the café. Here they sat opposite a large glass window which looked down over a valley of houses to green hills beyond. Anne smiled. It really was a lovely spot.

The place was almost empty, apart from a couple of women near the front and an older man reading the newspaper. The owners had built this nice establishment hoping that it's attractive layout and nice views would attract the discerning middle-class, but not many ventured into this working class neighbourhood to find out about it. Anne and John ordered coffees from a bored young waiter, who Anne caught stealing glances at her cleavage, and John ordered her a nice lemon tart. It was somehow very civilised for a morning with John.

When they received their coffees and tart, the waiter left them alone. The back of the booth seat shielded them from the rest of the restaurant, so that only the backs of their heads were visible.

'Didn't I tell you that this was the right outfit to wear?' said John, leaning over to whisper in her ear, and touching Anne's thigh lightly with his left hand. 'I saw a lot of men checking you out on the way here. You look absolutely fabulous Anne!' His hand moved between her legs. She put down her coffee to try to push him away, but he burrowed his way under her skirt and up to her knickers.

'Stop it John,' she scolded. 'It is a pretty outfit, but I don't like being stared at by every rude man I pass.' She tried to stop him, but his finger found its way inside her knickers and slipped easily between her pussy lips and inside her. Why was her pussy so wet, she wondered. She had become flushed with embarrassment with all those men watching her breasts and thighs as she walked, but had there been something in all those eyes on her that had somehow excited her?

John started to nibble on her ear, and used his other hand to spread her legs wider, and slipped a second finger inside her. Anne pushed down to stop him, but he was too strong and started to move his two fingers in and out of her pussy. She could feel the insistent heat of his fingers pushing into her soft wet cunt. It was starting to feel very nice now, as he was rubbing the inside front of her pussy sensually, like a masseur. She was tempted to let him continue to give her pleasure while she stared out at the view in the privacy of their little booth.

But Anne worried that she would not be able to control herself, or that someone would come over and see what was happening, that she, a middle-aged woman in a short skirt was letting a younger man finger-fuck her in public. She tried again to push him away, and begged him to stop. Her face was flushed with both embarrassment and excitement and her nipples were jutting out from her blouse.

John leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek, and whispered in her ear, 'Let it happen, darling. Your pussy feels fantastic!'

His two fingers were deep inside her now, and he manoeuvred his thumb inside her knickers so that he could stroke her wet slit with it. Up and down he stroked, and then started to push on her clitoris with his juicy thumb, at the same time squeezing his fingers inside her so that it was as if he was rubbing her clit from above and below. Anne's body jerked with the sudden sensation. She was starting to lose control, here in the middle of a public restaurant.

John's fingers plunged into her slippery cunt like a hard cock, and his thumb circled her clit relentlessly. Anne was helpless as she felt an orgasm approaching. She held on tight to the table and put her head down as she tried to supress the groans of pleasure that rose up inside her. Her body shook as John's hand fondled her cunt into ecstasy. It felt fantastic, and a small audible sigh escaped her. Her body trembled as the orgasm swept through her, and she concentrated on the delight concentrated in her clit and cunt.

At last she felt John's fingers pull out of her, and he leant over to give her another comforting kiss on the cheek. She slowly sat up and breathed deeply, as her mind returned to her from the place of pleasure it had gone to. Her body was still tingling and alive. She felt amazing. But there was the guilt, as usual. Did anyone else know what had happened? How had John made her give in so easily? Why did such a wrong thing feel so good.

She shook her head, and took a forkful of tart, which she had hardly touched. She had a sip of coffee to calm down, but John took her hand and placed it on his crotch where she could feel the hardness of his erection straining at his jeans.

'I want you!' he whispered. 'Let's go home.'

Anne would have liked a bit more time to recover and relax after what he'd done to her. Her face was still flushed, and her pussy was still pulsing pleasantly. She could feel the warm wetness down there, and would have like to have dreamed a little with this amazing view in front of her. But John grabbed her hand and led her towards the door.

'Can I go to the loo?' Anne asked. The toilets were downstairs, and John came down too, saying he also needed to use the toilet. When she finished, she went to the washbasin area to wash her hands. It was an impressive area with big mirrors all around and fancy taps and fixtures. Anne checked out her reflection, and winced at how sexual she looked in these clothes. They were too young for her. You could see too much cleavage, and her nipples showed through the blouse, even in this light. She would not wear this blouse again without a thicker bra underneath.

Suddenly the door opened and John stepped into the room. He pulled her close and kissed her hard. His tongue was in her mouth and his hands pulled her arse to him, and she could feel his erection hard and grinding against her. Things were getting out of control fast, and Anne pushed him away. She didn't want to do anything in a public bathroom, and wanted him to stop and take her home before anything happened.

But John had different ideas, and pushed her to her knees. She could feel the cold tiles on her bare knees, as she watched him unzip himself and let his cock spring free, thick and hot in her face. Despite her struggles, he forced his cock between her lips. He was so aroused and urgent, and hungry for the feel of her lips around his cock. He pushed in a little, then withdrew and pushed a little harder. Anne struggled to balance and stop him, but his cock rocked gently in and out of her wide open lips.

John was groaning softly, 'Oh yes Anne. Oh yes!'

She felt him reach down and start unbuttoning her blouse until it feel open, revealing her breasts pushing against her tight bra. Then he reached around behind her, and unbuttoned her bra with surprising ease, before pulling the straps down her arms like a professional and pulling her bra off completely. She struggled to stop him, but what with his big cock sliding deep inside her mouth, and the strength of his hands, she didn't manage it. Her breasts flopped free and swayed with the rhythm of his cock as he continued to push into her mouth, harder and harder.

It was awful, kneeling on the floor of this anonymous public bathroom with a hard cock in her mouth, like a drunk girl at a party. Anne had never been one of those girls, the type who disappeared from the party with disreputable boys, only to emerge later with hair and clothes and makeup all awry.

Now it was much worse, as her breasts were hanging out, slapping together as John rocked her back and forward. Someone could come in at any time and find her like this, like a cheap whore, sucking a younger man's big dick. She would just die!

Suddenly, John withdrew his cock from her mouth. Anne felt a moment's relief, but then John reached down and stood her up, before putting his hands under her bottom and lifting her gently onto the bench between the hand basins. He hooked his fingers under her knickers and started pulling them off. Anne panicked and tried to pull them up, but John kept pulling and the fabric started to tear, and she was forced to let go. John tossed her knickers on the bench with her bra, and spread her legs. A moment later he was on his knees, licking her pussy.

Again Anne tried to stop him, to push his head away. She didn't want him to make her come in this place. She didn't want him to fuck her here, where someone could come in at any time and catch her. But John's strong hands were holding her thighs open, and his tongue worked its way up and down her juicy slit, before concentrating on teasing her swollen clit. Anne could feel the warm pulses coming from her clit and pussy. She looked up at the mirror opposite and saw her reflection, all hanging, heaving breasts, flushed face, perspiration gleaming on her chest, thighs apart with the back of John's head between. This was not a position in which she had ever imagined for herself.

She was getting worked up, despite herself, when John stopped. He stood up, threw off his t-shirt to reveal his strong hairy chest, hooked his jocks and jeans down to allow his cock and balls out, and slammed his cock into her open pussy. Anne gasped with speed of it. Suddenly her cunt was stretched full. This was not the gentle, slow lover that John sometimes was. This was a hungry, needy John full of fierce desire for Anne's sweet cunt. Anne gasped and looked down. Her skirt was wrapped around her waist like a belt, revealing her hairy pussy. She watched as the length of his swollen red cock disappearing into her open pussy, then reappearing all covered with her juice and disappearing again. She gasped as the cock pushed deep and hard inside her, pushing against her secret lovely places that felt so good. She had been already aroused, and now she could feel her orgasm coming, and she stopped resisting and moved to feel his cock as much as possible.

In the mirror opposite she could see John's back driving hard into her. She started to come, a long powerful wave, which swept over her, causing her to groan and shout, noiselessly at first then louder and uncontrolled. It felt so good. Her cunt was on fire, warm and glowing.

Suddenly John pulled out of her and dragged her off the bench. Her legs were unsteady at first, but her turned her around and bent her over the washbasin. She felt his cock searching for her opening, and then, finding it, plunging inside her. She was filled again, this time from a different angle with John's cock pushing against new sections of her pussy further back. He was thrusting deep inside her from this angle. Anne glanced at the mirror, and saw herself, breasts swinging in front of her, neck and face all red and covered in sweat, and hair all tossed around.