Catharsis With My Son In Law

Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.

All email comments good or critical welcomed. Rude or abusive comments may result in blocking. Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat, and the ass is a bum or arse.

I apologise for any typo errors in my story - I edit these myself, and I'm not perfect...

It was my daughter's birthday. My dead daughter's birthday, she had passed away just over a year ago from spine cancer, it had been a mercifully quick death, but a death non the less. What had made it worse for me was that it had come just a few weeks after my husband had been killed by a drunk driver.

Perhaps it had actually made it easier, all my grief rolled into one wallow of despair. I had been walking in town with my husband, he always walked street side, it was his thing, 'to protect you my love' he had said when I asked him why, 'Protect me from what?' I had asked, 'errant horses of course,' he had replied. He was old school.

The suddenly he was gone, a car had mounted the pavement, gathered him up and then crashed him into a post box ending my husband's life in an instant. It had happened on the day that Chrissie, my daughter, had told me of her cancer, how it was incurable, and how she could go at any moment. Perhaps we were distracted, I will never know, but the car just came from nowhere.

The driver was drunk, he was unharmed and will soon be released from jail where he is serving time for causing death by careless driving whilst under the influence. His wife will get him back, his children will get him back. My Jack is gone for ever, and now too is my Chrissie, her spine stopped carrying the messages to her lungs and she simply stopped breathing.

I stripped and went into the shower, I could not be maudlin, I had to live my life. I stood under the warm water as it cascaded over me, running over my breasts, down my stomach, dripping like a tap from my fanny. After I had finished, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around me. I decided I would visit Simon, my son in law, Chrissie's widower.

I sat on my bed and sent Simon a text message saying that I would be visiting this morning. As I sat drying myself with the towel, I got a reply from Simon saying 'ok'. What to wear was the question? Not that he would see my underwear, but I wanted to wear matching, it was worth it to me to make an effort.

I decided I would wear some of the underwear that I had saved for special occasions with Jack, it had lain unused in my lingerie drawer for too long. I selected a bustier bra in cornflower blue and matching briefs. The material was very lacy and almost sheer, were anyone to look, little would be left to their imagination. But that was okay, no one would be looking. I loved the way the bra covered my stomach, Jack used to get so excited when he realised I was wearing it.

Hold up tights and then a Chinese style blue silk dress. I looked in the mirror, I looked respectable. Jack had loved this outfit, he called me his 'Chinese hooker for later' when I wore it on our dinner dates. I added some simple four inch blue patent heels to complete the outfit.

I wasn't going on a date, I couldn't, my husband was dead, but I could still make an effort, and I made an effort, I doubted Simon would even notice, but that didn't matter, I wasn't dressing to impress anyone else, only to bolster me.

Time to go. I slipped on my driving shoes and put my heels on the passenger seat with my handbag and set off the Simon. He didn't live that far away, and really I should see him more often. He reminded me so much of Jack, very similar, and I had wondered when Chrissie first started going out with him, if she had gone for him because he looked so much like her Dad.

The traffic was light and I soon pulled onto Simon's driveway and parked next to his Lexus. I changed my shoes and went up and rang his doorbell. Simon took a moment and then the door opened.

"Hello Samantha," he greeted me, "come in, I'll put the kettle on."

I followed him in, and was pleased that the house seemed clean, no feisty aroma, and in the kitchen, no dirty plates or cutlery laying around. He flicked the kettle on and then turned to me, "coffee or tea," he asked.

"Tea please," I replied and watched as he got two tea cups and saucers down from the dresser. He was wearing a white oxford shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, and grey slacks. His feet were bare. His hair was neat and combed, and he smelled manly. It seemed he was keeping himself in good repair.

Tea made we went and sat on the small cane sofa in the conservatory, and I put my tea on the small side table before turning to him.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"Working and nothing else, today I couldn't work, I took the day. Chrissie's birthday, it is still too raw."

"I know, I felt the same, and I apologise, I should see you more. Perhaps you could come for Sunday lunch occasionally, say, first Sunday of the month? We shouldn't be strangers." I had always liked Simon, he seemed a perfect match for Chrissie, they had been so happy, and it had pleased Jack and I how happy they were together.

"Yes Samantha, that would be nice."

"Now, how are you in yourself?" I asked.

"How? Lost Samantha, I am lost, I lay in bed and turn to say something to Chrissie and she isn't there. I see a new restaurant open and go to ask her if she would like to go, only she isn't there. I miss her constantly, we only had five short years together, and then a month after the diagnosis and that bastard Cancer took my Chrissie from me, and so Samantha, I am lost."

That had been quite a speech. I looked at him and could almost see my Jack sitting next to me, it bought home to me how I felt, I too felt lost, I had lost my Jack and I too wanted to go out to restaurants with him, I wanted to wander round garden centres picking plants with him, but I couldn't. Simon and I were in the same boat, and it felt like the boat was named Titanic.

"Oh Simon, I know how you feel, only too well. You know, you do look so like my Jack, only younger."

"I am sorry, sometimes I forget that Jack was taken from you, I get lost in my own misery, I apologise."

"Don't be silly Simon, you have nothing to apologise for."

I picked my teacup up from the table and leant back into the sofa. I sipped at my tea and tried to relax, but it was difficult, it was a difficult day, my daughter's birthday, Simon's wife's birthday and she had been taken from us.

"You look so much like Chrissie," Simon said, "I was always happy to know what she would look like when she was older, it was a comfort, but now, those thoughts are irrelevant, pointless even, but still I see you and I see the older Chrissie that I can never now know."

"Oh, gosh Simon, I don't know how to react to that. She was my daughter, so I guess that she would look like me, only a younger me."

"If I half close my eyes when I look at you, you could be her, it is uncanny."

I was silent, I couldn't say anything to that. I wasn't Chrissie, I couldn't be Chrissie, no more than Simon could be Jack. I remembered how Jack would laugh as Chrissie told us about Simon stumbling in the supermarket and dropping a carton of eggs, "Clean up in aisle four" the Tannoy had said, and that had become a joke whenever anything was dropped, we would say 'Clean up in aisle four'.

"Clean up in aisle four" I said without realising I was voicing my memories.

"Oh Lord, I will never live that down," Simon said. Did I detect a smile, if so, that would be good, his mood was as dark as mine.

"I know, but really a whole box of eggs? That must have taken some cleaning."

"We didn't stay to see, we paid for what we had in our trolley and left as quickly as we could, and then when we got home, Chrissie was bouncing and she hugged me and we ended up in bed."

Oh. I didn't need to know that.

"Well, a happy memory for you then at least. When you hear 'clean up' I imagine you think of you and Chrissie in bed making love. I think of a mucky supermarket floor."

"She loved to take me to bed Samantha, always so wanting and needy of us, I loved to watch her dress you know, it fascinated me. I loved to watch her shower, how she cleaned herself in a specific order, her boobs, and then her armpits, and then her stomach and her crotch, her special fanny flannel doing its job."

Crumbs, it seemed my daughter was similar to me in that regard, perhaps that is how I had taught her to shower, I didn't remember. It was how I showered now, and I still had my special fanny flannel for cleaning between my legs. As I remembered I had a little tickle as if I were cleaning myself rather than supping tea in my Son in Law's conservatory.

"Happy memories Simon," I said as I put my teacup down, "I suppose I taught her how to wash, and so she would wash the same way I do."

"Gosh, I had never thought about that," Simon said, "that you would wash yourself in the shower the same way Chrissie did. I would sit on the loo and watch her, not using the loo I mean, just sitting there watching. She would do the same when I showered, she would sit and watch."

God, I did the same with Jack, "Don't forget to wash under your rim," I would say.

"Yes, exactly, that is what Chrissie would say."

God I had spoken my memory out loud again, I needed to be more careful.

"And then," Simon continued, "she would dry my back for me, ensuring that every little crease was dry and clean."

Jack had done the same to me, and me to him, it was a shared intimacy, one it seemed my daughter had shared with Simon.

"I loved to watch her get dressed," Simon said. "How she would do up her bra catch and then twist it around and drop her boobs into the cups, pulling each boob up so that it sat properly."

"I still do the same," I said, we women do that.

"And then her knickers, she would step into them and pull them up and then ensure that they laid flat across her fanny, she would not allow a hint of crease, and ensure that the gusset hem sat properly so that there could be no rubbing."

"Same," I said, never thinking that we were sharing intimacies, only memories.

"Seeing her standing in the bedroom in her underwear is a memory that I cherish, it stays with me, I lie alone in our bed and I have those memories in my minds eyes, and sometimes it becomes too much. It is as if she is there, and I turn to kiss her and make love with her only she bed is empty."

I am the same. I see Jack in my memory, and I imagine him holding me, his hands on my breasts, I can feel his fingers in my fanny and I clench and I gasp and then suddenly I am staring at the ceiling, I am alone, Jack is not there, my fanny is an empty void.

"It is the same for me Simon."

"You lay in bed and imagine Jack is there?"

"Yes."

"Can you feel him touch you, the way I feel Chrissie touch me? It is so real."

"Yes," I almost whispered, "I do feel his hand on me, in me, it is frightening."

He put his hand on mine, "don't ever be frightened," he said, "embrace it, take the memories and live them, it is the only way I can cope without Chrissie, to imagine her with me, holding me, moving her hands, her mouth on me, her naked beauty to enjoy."

I had a vision of her holding Simon's dick, pushing his foreskin down, his glans popping out, purple and wet, ready, wanting. I squeezed my legs together, trying to exorcise the image in my mind, not an image I should have, I was in danger of mixing Jack and Simon up in my mind.

"Oh God," I muttered quietly, Simon squeezed my hand.

"Looking at you now, I see Chrissie," he said softly, "and I imagine what we would be doing, our intimacies together."

"I think we need another cup of tea" I said, quickly getting up and taking our cups into the kitchen. I filled the kettle and put it on to boil. I turned around and Simon was stood in front of me. His hand touched my face.

"When I close my eyes and touch you, I feel Chrissie," he said. His hand moved gently across my face, feeling my nose, my cheeks and then my lips. My lips pursed at the touch and kissed his finger, he gasped and stepped back.

"I am sorry," he said, "sometimes things are too real."

I embraced him, pulling him tight to me, "don't be sorry," I said quietly, "there is nothing to be sorry for." I stepped back, my brain telling me that he had an erection and that it had pressed against me.

"It's involuntary," I told my brain.

"What is?" he asked, I had spoken aloud again.

"What? Oh nothing," I flustered looking down at the bulge in his trousers. His eyes followed my gaze and his cheeks reddened. He stepped back and turned away leaning on the kitchen work surface, his bulge partially hidden from me.

"Jack was a lucky man," Simon said.

"What? Why?"

"To know you, to spend time with you, to be alone with you, to be intimate with you."

He turned and looked at me, his eyes fixed at mine, my eyes unable to tear away and look down at his bulge.

"Oh," I said, what else could I say?

"You could be my Chrissie, you are peas from the same pod," he said stepping closer, the back of his hand grazing my cheek again.

We had been mistaken for sisters when we had gone out that was true. His fingers touched my lips again, and my mouth opened. His finger slid between my lips, my tongue slipped along it, wetting it. He shivered and moved closer, his arms going around me, pulling me to him.

I was lost, I did not know what to think, I did not know what was happening. I had twinges in my crotch, my nipples were hard and pressing against my bra and I was wet, God was I ever wet, what was wrong with me?

He leant forward and his lips were against mine, pressing, his tongue inside my mouth, seeking, searching. My hand found and squeezed his dick, what was I doing? This shouldn't be happening, but it felt so right. His hand cupped my right breast, taking its weight and lifting it, a thumb and finger finding my hard nipple and gently squashing it.

His other hand was at my back, and he undid the catch to my dress and then lowered the tiny zip, my dress parting at the back, his hand inside, running over my bustier.

"Oh God," he gasped, "Chrissie wore these too on our date nights." He stepped back and using both hands he pushed my dress off my shoulders, and it fell to the floor. He looked at me in the underwear I hadn't expected him to see. He stepped forward and kissed me again, his hand tracing my sex through my knickers. I gasped, pleasures flowing.

I undid the button of his trousers and pulled down his fly, my hand inside his underpants and I grasped his dick. Oh God, it felt the same as Jack's dick, it was hard and I pushed the foreskin down, Simon shuddered and gasped as my fingernail traced around his rim.

I let him go and took his hand. I stepped out of the puddle of my dress and pulled him towards the door. "Your bedroom," I said. I had to have him.

I led the way upstairs, Simon behind me, holding his trousers up, watching my knickers covered cheeks as I sashayed up his stairs. In his bedroom I pulled his quilt back and turned to face him. He was still holding his trousers up. I pulled his hands away and his trousers fell.

I undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it off him, running my hands through the light down on his chest, his dick lurched in his underpants, it was time for me to see his beast. I gripped his underpants and knelt down before him, pulling his pants down as I went, and revealed his dick.

It was the twin of my late husband Jacks, a perfect dick. I pulled his foreskin back and wrapped my mouth around his glans, pressing my tongue at the small hole at the end. With my free hand I gently rolled his balls in my palm, feeling them pulse inside his ball sack.

I could hear him gurgle and gasp as I worked his dick, my hand now wanking him as I sucked, Simon gasping audibly as his pleasures ran through him. I eased back, releasing his dick, and stood up, giving him the full benefit of my underwear. I put my hands behind me and undid my bustier.

"Oh good God," he gasped as my bustier fell. I put my hands to my waist and peeled down my knickers, Simon looked and gulped, his breath holding in his chest. "The same," he whispered.

I back pedalled to the bed and lay on it, my leg between us raised, obscuring my fanny from his view. He knelt on the bed and moved between my legs, widening them with his hands, my fanny now fully visible to him. He leant forward and I felt his breath on my crease.

Fingers gently eased my lips apart and his tongue pressed into my valley, sliding down to my entrance, pushing inwards, my petals parting, my breath held, my fingers clutching his mattress as my pleasures coursed through me, pressures building, it had been so long, over a year and my body was awakening to the memories of pleasure with Jack.

"Oh good god," I cried out as his tongue rubbed against my clitoris, an extreme pleasure forgotten in my months of despair, my buttocks clenched and then I felt fingers at my entrance, pushing, entering where none but Jack had been before.

"Your fanny is wonderful, evocative," he said, "I am almost lost in it."

"Just don't stop," I said, my mind seeing Jack as Simon fingered my fanny and tongued my clitoris. My pressures were building fast, electrics pulsing in between my thighs, pleasures rushing throughout my body as Simon did what jack used to do. He pulled his fingers from my fanny and then moved his mouth over my entrance and kissed me, his tongue delving inside as if it were my mouth.

I screamed my release, my first in a very long time, my back rising off the bed, arching, my heels digging in, my fingers clutching the mattress and my breath gasping as my orgasm erupted, pleasures exploding throughout my body. I slumped back onto the bed, gulping in air. Simon's head appeared from between my thighs.

"You squirt just like Chrissie, you feel just like her, it is amazing."

I am not sure that I like being compared to another woman, perhaps especially not to my deceased daughter, but, under the circumstances, I let it pass. This time.

He moved up the bed and lay next to me, his face wet with my juices and he kissed me, my aroma now on my face, my nose taking in my scent, knowing it was me, an old memory of Jack. I slipped down the bed and kissed the end of his dick, his glans just peeping through the folds of his foreskin as his tumescence strained his foreskin.

I eased his foreskin slowly down, watching the skin as it rolled over his rim, his glans showing its purple colours with a little white where the membrane that held his foreskin was strained by my pulling. I kissed the length of his dick and then gently sucked his balls into my mouth, rolling them with my tongue.

Simon sighed and twitched, his fingers gripping the mattress as mine had done, I smiled as I ran a finger along his perineum, feeling his jerks and twitches as I pressed against his sphincter. Jack had loved that, so personal, did Simon like that too I wondered. I moved back to his glans and sucked him into my mouth, taking his length inside me, into my throat, sucking and licking as I enveloped him, my lips pressing against his pubis.

I slowly eased my mouth back along his shaft, and then pressed down again, this time quicker, his glans brushing my throat and then deeper. I began to move faster, shagging his dick with my mouth, pressing at his sphincter with my finger, and he gasped and my finger pressed inside, I kept pushing, one, then two knuckles deep inside him and my mouth was moving fast along his dick.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," he gasped as my finger found a small bulge inside him and he jerked and I felt the cool spurts of his spunk go down my throat as he ejaculated deep inside my mouth. I eased my finger out of him, but kept sucking his dick, my tongue working his glans, keeping him hard.