Abigail's Party

This story and 'Muriel's Wedding' are wholly independent, other than sharing their characters; feel free to read them in either order, or indeed to ignore the second if you didn't enjoy the first.

Almost one-thirty in the morning and Carol was sat in her nightdress and robe, flicking through TV channels as she waited for her daughter to arrive home safely; the ridiculous think being that Jane wasn't sixteen any more, but twenty-six, married and living almost twenty miles away. Jane and her husband Jon were only staying over that night as they were attending a party nearby at their friend Abigail's house and since they were out together, Jane was hardly in any danger; old habits die hard I suppose? Ten minutes later Carol heard the slamming of taxi doors and raised voices outside, no doubt yet another stand-up row between Jon & Jane; it'd get the neighbours talking, but was nothing to worry about, Jane had taken after her father and could be assertive and overbearing, wholly unlike Carol herself who was rather diffident and reserved. They say that 'opposites attract' but in Jane and Jon's case that was far from true, he too could be equally forceful and domineering, so theirs was an often 'explosive' relationship; still, it seemed to work for them and Carol had no doubt that they'd be all kisses and smiles again by morning.

Jane stormed through the front door, straight up the stairs and the bedroom door slammed - ouch! A few moments later an embarrassed looking Jon appeared through the lounge doorway saying : "Sorry about that; perhaps a few too many tequila-cocktails?" As he settled himself into a chair Jon added: "I reckon I'll join you watching television for a while before I head up; give Jane a bit of time to go to sleep." Jon's discretion sounded a wise idea to Carol too and she assured him that she wasn't watching anything of interest, then reminded him that the football highlights had been recorded whilst they were out; she though would leave him to it and head up to bed herself, unless there was anything he wanted? Jon's head shook in the negative as Carol handed him the TV remote, then kissing him fondly on the cheek -- as always -- she made one final enquiry as to whether there was anything she might get for him before she went; Jon was fiddling with the TV's remote and shaking his head once again as she stood upright.

In the moment Carol turned to leave, Jon's hand shot out and grabbed her firmly by the right knee and he spoke as she looked back toward him: "On second thoughts Carol, there is something I want."

It wasn't Jon's touch, nor indeed what he'd said, so much as the tone in his voice and most especially the look on Jon's face as their eyes met; it was so reminiscent of Carol's husband Jack and in the instant, her stomach fluttered and her legs began to quake. Jon silently smiled, though it was a predatory rather than reassuring expression, as his grip on Carol's knee eased and his hand slid slowly north, to rest half-way up the inside of her naked and trembling thigh. In a faltering voice, perhaps in an effort to delay what even then perhaps seemed inevitable? Carol enquired: "W..what is it that I can... go and g..get for you Jon?"

Jon's hand began moving once again as he voiced a reply: "You don't need to go for anything Carol, what I'm after's already here...between your legs". Those last words coincided with Jon's hand reaching the top of Carol's thigh, where the knuckle of his index finger pressed firmly against her panties and the softly yielding flesh of her vulva beyond. Carol's yelp at the initial contact was quickly followed by a mewling cry as Jon's knuckle ground intrusively against the delicate folds of her labia then evolved into a low moan of pleasure as they parted before Jon's vulgar caress. Jon's voice remained low and harsh: "It sounds like you're enjoying that, is it more fun than doing it for yourself?" Carol's face turned beet-red on hearing Jon's question; Jack worked in the Middle-East and was regularly away for three-months at a time, but with the Covid thing, he'd now been gone for almost ten. Carol had become quite adept with her fingers as a result, but Jon was right, his touch was far more stimulating than her own could ever be.

Carol knew that Jon must be feeling the heat emanating from her crotch, but could he feel the moisture too? She could sense the juices beginning to flow and knew they'd shortly be soaking through her cotton panties, if indeed they hadn't already done so. Carol managed a moments coherence and recognised that arousing as this may be, it was a man of barely half her own age and her daughter's husband to boot, that was assailing her womanhood; it couldn't be allowed to continue! Putting her hands firmly to Jon's shoulders Carol tried to push herself free from him, whilst shouting a resounding "No!"

It achieved nothing. Jon's free hand grabbed Carol by the wrist, whilst the one groping between her legs gripped hard, eye-wateringly so! "Keep the noise down or you'll wake Jane..., he growled, followed by...and get those knickers off, before I tear them off you!" If Jon had earlier put Carol in mind of her absent husband, this was like hearing Jack himself; how often had she heard similar words and in that precise tone of voice from him?

Carol was shaking like a leaf, her head swinging back and forth as she mentally screamed -- 'No, No! NO!' - she felt torn every which way, her moral compass was spinning; this was her son in law, not her husband that she was hearing. As Carol's sense of propriety begged her to resist and scream for help, more primal messages flowed from her groin and these were instead calling for her to submit; it was always going to be a close call, but that authoritative tone of voice, as it ever had been, was not to be defied. With eyes downcast, Carol meekly parted her dressing gown and reaching beneath her night-dress -- it was actually an old shirt of Jack's, she'd slept in those ever since he'd begun working abroad -- slipped her panties down beyond her knees and once they'd fallen to her ankles, obediently stepped out of them. Jon meanwhile was busily unfastening his belt and trousers, before pushing those and his skivvies too, down around his own ankles; he was no longer restraining her, but by then both knew that her acquiescence was complete, Carol wasn't going anywhere.

Carol did find the words to make one final plea for manumit: "You have to stop this Jon, think of Jane; I'm her mother for God's sake! Your taking me would be akin to incest, you mustn't do it". In hindsight, Carol might perhaps have wished that she'd submitted quietly; she hadn't considered that her situation might worsen.

Jon's response was prefaced by the return of that predatory grin: "You're right Carol, I probably shouldn't fuck you; so I'm not going to." He lounged back in the chair, hooked his hands behind his head and nodded by way of instruction before continuing... "you can climb up here and fuck me instead."

Carol was flabbergasted, simply blown away by Jon's outrageous, yet oh so casually delivered command and she was in no doubt -- that voice-tone once again -- that this was an order, not a suggestion or a request. Carol's stomach roiled and her addled mind screamed: 'No!' Neither of them moved or spoke for long seconds, but as the silence grew both knew that one way or another, Carol would submit and as Jon's expression turned steely, hers collapsed in capitulation. Carol spread my gown once more and this time, her legs along with it, before lifting her husband's shirt up to her waist and obediently straddling Jon's waiting thighs. She hesitated for a few moments, in the vain hope that Jon might at least grant her the courtesy of guiding his own cock between her open legs, but his expression confirmed that even this small mercy was to be denied and like a cheap whore, Carol was obliged to grasp it for herself and feed it between her moist lips, before sinking down in self-penetration.

Was Jon, larger down there than Jack? It was hard to judge; it may perhaps be Carol herself who'd tightened since Jack's last home-leave? She'd often employed her own dexterous fingers and the occasional toy too, but it'd been ten long months since a man had breached her honey-pot. Carol was sopping wet down there -- she'd noticed that when steering Jon's cock across the threshold -- but as she sank down upon him, Carol still felt stretched beyond tolerance almost feeling that she may burst! But gravity couldn't be denied, Carol's pussy walls yielded and the full length of Jon's prick buried itself in her snug channel. In the moment when it reached bottom and their pubic bones collided, Carol vented a protracted groan of carnal pleasure, it'd been far too long since she'd last enjoyed that feeling of...of...repletion; which only a hard cock can bestow. As she luxuriated in the sensation Jon's voice seemed to come from far away: "It sounds like you needed that Carol?" She was in a place beyond reply and simply nodded her head and emitted a lingering 'Mmmmmmmmm.' Carol hadn't climaxed, but was simply... satisfied.

Jon didn't afford Carol long to savour the feeling; a firm slap on the thigh and a sharp: "Come on Carol, time you got to work; I haven't got all night." quickly jerked her back to reality. Thoughts of resistance were now long gone and Carol obediently began to roll her hips back and forth, grinding down against Jon's rigid member. The first pass had Carol gasping! A shock like electricity spasming through her abdomen, as the head of Jon's cock buried within brushed across the face of her cervix; that certainly answered the size question, Jack had never penetrated her that deeply. The jolt acted as encouragement rather than a deterrent and Carol began to gyrate her pelvis both harder and faster, fairly bouncing her clitoris against Jon's shaft, each lewd bump being preceded by that electric-tingle. Jon had been right, Carol certainly did need this; it had been far too long since a real prick had brought her to orgasm and having now got a fine example buried between her legs she wasn't about to waste it!

Jon wasn't idle either, as Carol began fucking him he leaned forward, pulled open her dressing gown and began mauling at her breasts; that was the only word to describe it, he didn't caress or fondle them, this was a crude groping, his fingers biting through the thin cotton to sink into the flesh beneath. There was a moment's respite, as Jon grabbed at the front of Jack's shirt and tore it open with a jerk; Carol was still hearing the 'ping' of bouncing buttons as Jon's hands returned to her boobs. Now flesh on flesh Jon's assault became even rougher, palms slapping at the sensitive skin, fingers digging deep into the yielding softness of Carol's tits and cruelly twisting her swollen nipples; it was a roller coaster of pain and pleasure which Carol knew would raise welts and bruises by the morning, even as it helped drive her toward orgasm. It may have been Jon's maltreatment or the coarse commentary with which he accompanied it: "Oh man you are one hot bitch, I just wish I'd realised it sooner, your tits are way sweeter than Jane's and that tight pussy..." If there was more then it didn't register with Carol as her orgasm exploded within.

Falling forward in her climax, Carol felt Jon's face press against her violated breasts and a moment later the sharpest pain yet as his teeth sank into one of her defenceless nipples; far from quashing Carol's orgasm this further abuse sent it sky-rocketing! Carol's cries of delight could've woken the dead - God only knows how her daughter slept through the cacophony, she must've been comatose up there? - and even Jon appeared shocked at the level of profanity she'd used; it was far from the straight-laced and genteel language that he'd come to expect. As Carol's orgasm began subsiding her senses returned and the flush of exertion already evident upon her face morphed into an even brighter one of embarrassment and shame. Pushing herself upright Carol made to flee, but her progress was halted by Jon's grabbing her by the wrists and snarling: "Not so fast, I haven't finished with you yet." before tipping her roughly off his lap and nodding toward the couch as he added: "Over there; get on your knees."

Carol tumbled dishevelled and half naked to the floor, her breasts spilling from the ravaged night-shirt; where rather than comply with Jon's demand she sat at his feet wearing an expression of abject surrender and slowly shaking her head in a mute plea for clemency. Carol's appeal proved fruitless; Jon grabbed her by the hair, pulled her up onto her knees and dragged her forward toward his slick and still rigid cock: "Not up for another fuck just yet Carol? Fine, wrap your lips around this and give me a blow job instead." Carol offered no resistance, indeed her stomach fluttered with excitement as she acquiesced to this fresh demand, it might have been a while since she'd sucked a cock, but Carol knew that she'd not forgotten how and smiled inwardly as she recalled the way Jack had responded to her past ministrations -- she was a damned good cock-sucker and she knew it! With no hint of uncertainty Carol's head lowered, her lips already parted by the time they reached the tip of Jon's stiff pole and even then there was no hesitation; Carol sank further, her mouth engulfing Jon whole on the first descent.

Jon released Carol's hair and slumped back into his chair with a gasp; the sensation of his prick sliding in a single motion through the circle of Carol's lips, across the coarse texture of her tongue and on into the depths of her open throat, had simply astonished him. Internally, Carol was grinning like a Cheshire-cat as she began rocking back and forth, working her magic on Jon's pulsing cock, while thinking 'not so cocky now are you hotshot?' Carol applied her full repertoire to Jon's erection, nibbling at the foreskin, tongue-teasing beneath the crown and squeezing the shaft between her cheeks as it passed back and forth into the depths of her accommodating throat. She never once gagged or faltered and was disappointed to have got through barely half of her range of tricks and treats before Jon popped his cork. Carol caught that first spurt square on her tongue and fortunately savoured it before swallowing; she loved the taste of come and swallowing every drop had always been a pleasure as well as a point of pride.

This time, it was not to be: Jon jerked forward and pushed Carol's head away, his other hand gripped at his shaft as he quite literally 'hosed' her with his spunk; it was a very full load, hadn't Jane been taking care of him lately? Stream upon stream flew across the few inches of space between them, two be-spattered her heaving breasts whilst two more created unbroken lines from Carol's chin to well up beyond her hairline; these Jon smeared about her face with the head of his still oozing prick, growling: "Clean it off you dirty cumslut." as he pressed it back between her lips. Carol didn't need a mirror to know that she was a come-drenched mess, she could feel Jon's emissions dripping off her nose and nipples as she eagerly -- no doubt too eagerly! - complied with this latest demand; her efforts redoubled when Jon murmured: "You are one unbelievable cock-sucker Carol, that's the best blow-job I've ever had; you really are a sleazy mare, it's a pity that you can't give that cock-shy daughter of yours a few lessons."

Carol was now using her fingers to wipe the trails of semen from her face and boobs, slipping the sticky digits into her mouth beside Jon's cock to suck them clean, she wasn't about to waste a drop; though wallowing in Jon's vulgar compliments, she felt sure that it wouldn't be another ten months before she was enjoying the taste it again. Carol's delight was short-lived, as that was the moment when the sound of slowly clapping hands intruded on their tryst and jerking her head toward the sound had Carol looking directly into the eyes of her daughter, standing in the doorway, with her head slowly shaking as she said -- quietly and almost frighteningly calmly: "Mother, you dirty whore; that's MY husband's cock in your mouth."