"Do you like them?"
She'd kept a straight face while saying it, and there'd been no unusual intonation in her voice, but despite all of that, I knew that she wasn't referring to the earrings that were in her hand. That was because she was holding them close to her breasts. Dangling them in the middle of the valley that was her impressive cleavage, so that I would have to look where she wanted me to. Margaret, my Mother-in-law, likes to play games with me, and I'm always a willing participant. It's what we sometimes do when we're together. It brightens up our day. Just a bit of harmless fun!
The pretence was that I would be commenting on the earrings, but really it was her breasts. I'd admired them countless times before, but I was still eager to do so again. There are some things you never tire of looking at. For example, a painting by Claude Monet or the Taj Mahal. And of course, my Mother-in-law's tits are one of them.
They're melons, ripe juicy ones. It's a miracle that her bra is strong enough to contain those heavy globes. And having seen the outline of her nipples through bikini tops, I know that her twin peaks are topped with impressive teats. Plump nipples that are ideal for sucking on. Like her big tits? No, I love them!
When I said, "They're the best that I've ever seen," I'd meant it.
That made her smile. It was warm and radiant, with a hint of mischief. Seeing it was exciting me as much as admiring her breasts had. I was now thinking of what to say next to keep the flirting going.
"What are you two doing?"
It was Sally, she'd suddenly entered the room. That had unsettled me, but not my Mother-in-law, because after turning to face her, she calmly said, "I was showing Richard my new earrings."
She then handed them to her Daughter, who, after only a cursory glance at them, handed them back.
"They're OK, but not as nice as your pearl ones."
We've never talked about what we do. No discussion about what the rules should be. It's just evolved over the three years that I've known her. We seem to know instinctively how far we can take it. Being careful when Sally is with us, and more daring when there's nobody to observe us. However, over the last few weeks there's been a change. It's happening more often, and with more intensity. I can't say that I don't like it, but it has made me think. Has it gone beyond innocent flirting?
-
We were in the kitchen. I was sitting at the table with Margaret, and Sally was at the sink doing the dishes. My Mother-in-law was holding a banana, about to eat it. A perfectly natural thing to do. However, there was more to it than just that. It was what she was doing with it.
She was holding it at one end. When the fingers of her other hand curled around the top of it, I knew what was coming next. After glancing over at her Daughter, to make sure that her back was still towards us, she continued. I was right. She was slowly and sensually moving her hand along its full length. I gulped. It was as if she'd stroked my erect cock. Then she quickly peeled it, because she was eager to get it into her mouth. But when just the tip of it was in, she stopped.
After taking it out, she said, "I do like a nice banana."
That got my heart beating faster, because I understood the hidden meaning behind it. She might indeed like a nice banana, but it was cock that she was talking about!
"Sally, you should buy bigger ones. I need more than this to fill me up."
While continuing with the dishes, Sally gave her Mother a quick OK. I looked at the banana again. She was right. Not much longer than five inches, and slim. It would need a cock bigger than that to satisfy my Mother-in-law.
It was back in her mouth, and this time more of it. However, she was making no attempt to bite into it. Then she suddenly bobbed her head, taking all of it in. I had to close my eyes because it was too much for me. When, after only a few seconds, I opened them again, she was eating it. And thankfully, without any more sexual innuendos.
"I enjoyed that."
She had, not just the eating of it though, but also the erotic show that she'd put on for me.
-
What she'd done with the banana had got me
thinking. It was more than our usual flirting and done without any subtlety. Crude rather than sophisticated. Not my Mother-in-law's usual style. However, I'll have to admit that it had excited me, but I wasn't sure that I'd liked her doing it. And the big mystery was why had she done it?
That evening, while I was in bed with Sally, she told me something about her Mother, and that gave me some insight into her earlier behaviour.
"My Mother is having some problems."
Before I could ask what those problems were she was telling me more.
"It's Peter."
I jumped in with, "He's cheating on her!"
She shook her head, so it wasn't that.
"He's not ..."
I was surprised, Sally struggling over what to say was unusual. It rarely happens. However, when she started again, she was OK.
"He's not satisfying her in the bedroom."
"Is he satisfying her in any of the other rooms in their house?"
It was a flippant question, done to introduce a bit of humour into a difficult subject. Her icy stare told me that it had been a miserable failure.
"Sorry."
"And so you should be. This is serious. Sex has always been important to my Mother, and it still is. If things don't change then it could be the end of her relationship with Peter."
That was a sobering thought. I like him, as everybody does. I'd always regarded them as the perfect couple. Him, kind and jovial. A successful businessman. And her, a vivacious beauty. Both of them doting on each other.
They met ten years ago, shortly after her divorce. It had been an unhappy marriage that had lasted longer than it should have. However, one good thing had come out of it. That was Sally. And she, like me, would be very upset if her Mother was to split up with Peter.
"Do you think their age difference has anything to do with it?"
She didn't need to think about it. I got her answer straight away.
"Absolutely!"
I'd have to agree with her. Peter was sixty seven and Margaret was only fifty one. A not insignificant age difference. Understandably, because he was nearly seventy, his sex drive was diminished, while hers, because she was only middle-aged, was still quite high. Not an ideal combination.
"Has he tried Viagra?"
"No, because it's not that he can't get it up, it's just that he doesn't want to. My Mother goes to bed eager for sex, but he's not interested, preferring to read for a while before going to sleep."
Because I was only twenty five, I couldn't imagine a time, no matter how old I was or how good the book was, when I'd want to read rather than fuck.
"And because she is sexually frustrated, she's often in a bad mood. Picking fights with him over trivial things."
That was more bad news from her. I'd have to say that the future doesn't bode well for the two of them.
The next day, while driving to work, I thought about Margaret. And that made me realise something. The difficulty she was having with Peter must be the reason for her recent behaviour towards me. The outrageous flirting was giving her some sexual satisfaction. It was a poor substitute for a good hard fucking, but she was doing it because it was better than nothing. I felt sorry for her.
-
When I saw Margaret again, it was a week after I'd had that upsetting conversation with her Daughter. From how she was, both in appearance and demeanour, you wouldn't suspect that there was anything in her life that was troubling her. But I knew differently. She was putting on a brave face and doing a good job of it.
