Yes, I know that everyone calls for a 'back story' but in this instance there simply isn't one; I was just as surprised by Tuesday night's turn of events as anyone.
Beth and I met at university and began dating during our final year; we've been together for six years now and married for four of those. We both hold down well paid jobs in the financial sector, which allows us to meet the payments on our ridiculously expensive city apartment. Beyond work, we socialise with friends, enjoy two weeks annual holiday somewhere sunny and the odd weekend away besides. Our sex life is regular, fulfilling and inventive, but in no way outrageous; we're just 'normal', no different from a million other couples in their late twenties.
Last week's visit by Beth's mother Sarah was equally normal. It was the last week in November, so as in previous years Sarah stayed with us while spending three days Christmas shopping in the city. Beth -- also as usual - was taking time off work to join her around the shops on Wednesday. The one hiccough to Sarah's visit was that Beth had been invited to an Ann Summers Party on that Tuesday evening; in the normal course of events Beth would've declined the invitation, but as the party was being hosted by one of her closest friends, Beth wanted to support her.
For those who've not heard of them, Ann Summers Parties are women only affairs hosted in someone's home where she invites friends around to enjoy an evening of girly chat, risqué games and the opportunity to buy from a range of bedroom toys and sexy lingerie; all lubricated by a steady flow of prosecco and white wine. Beth had been to several in the past and even hosted one herself, but we hadn't expected it to be to Sarah's taste; so, had agreed that Beth would attend Claire's party, while I took Sarah out for dinner.
As a courtesy, Beth did of course extend a party invitation to her mother and I'm not sure which of us was the more surprised when she'd replied 'Yes, please.' It would be unfair to brand Sarah prudish or strait-laced, but she is somewhat... staid and at forty-eight, likely to be a good few years older than the rest of the attendees at Claire's party.
That said, Sarah was equally likely to be more attractive than many of those younger girls; she and Beth are like two peas in a pod: Tall, slim, redheads and while Sarah's hair is no longer quite as bright as Beth's, she instead benefits from somewhat fuller and rounder boobs and hips, both of which I put down to age and motherhood. I've often appraised Sarah while thinking 'Beth will look like that in another twenty years?' and invariably been very happy at that prospect.
With Beth & Sarah out for the evening I put in a few extra hours at my desk then picked up a takeaway on my way home; at ten o'clock I was sat in front of the TV in jogging pants and tee shirt, with a beer in my hand, awaiting their return. My guess had been that they'd be home around ten-thirty, but it was almost midnight before they got back and then I nearly missed their arrival: I was by then half-asleep and didn't hear them until they stumbled into the lounge, each clutching a black and pink carrier bag.
Their unstable gaits, laughter and slurred speech vouched for the amount that they'd both had to drink, so I was relieved to hear that they'd left the car at Claire's and returned by taxi; no problem, I'd take my morning run in that direction and collect it then. I offered them a drink, meaning tea or coffee, but their reply was a demand of 'More Chardonnay!' Again, not a problem, they were safely home and already prime candidates for morning hang-overs, so another glass was unlikely to do them further harm.
Beth and Sarah were both sprawled on the couch and still laughing at inside/you needed to have been there, jokes when I returned with their drinks. After handing those out I reached towards Beth's carrier bag, enquiring: "So, what have you been buying?"
Beth snatched it from my hand squawking "No! You can't look; it'll spoil the surprise for the weekend..." Disappointing, but things sounded promising for the weekend at least. Beth concluded: "You can look in Mum's bag instead; that'll make your eyes pop out."
That garnered and equally loud squawk, only this time from Sarah: "Don't you dare touch that Paul! Nobody's looking in there, not even George... In fact, especially not George!"
This was the catalyst for a further round of raucous laughter, concluding when Beth regained her voice. "Oh go on, show him Mum; it'll probably give him a complex of some sort..." Turning toward me Beth continued "It's a dildo, but not just any dildo, it's a black one and the size of a billy club! I suppose in that size they maybe only make them in black? I've no idea what Mum intends doing with it... she's going to need a set of tyre levers to squeeze it inside her pussy."
This drew yet another peal of inebriated laughter from the girls, while I stood open mouthed and staring; the idea of Sarah buying a dildo -- of any size! - was startling but to see her drunkenly laughing about it simply blew my mind. Regrettably, Sarah remained adamant that it was staying under wraps, whereupon Beth chimed in once again: "Well you could at least show Paul your stockings... Mum got them as a prize for the game that she won."
My gaze followed the direction of Beth's gesture; to be honest I'd not until then noticed Sarah's stockings, but now saw that rather than plain black, the insides of them were a garish gold and red; though contrary to Sarah's reply that "Paul can see them from there." I couldn't discern anything more.
"Don't be daft Mum, the hem of that skirt's down past your knees; you'll need to hoist it up and part your legs to give him the full effect."
Sarah sprang to her feet, planted a hand firmly upon each hip and sternly retorted "Elizabeth Cooper! What are you like? Suggesting to your own mother that she lifts her skirt AND spreads her legs for a man! Where did I go wrong in raising you?"
Sarah's burst of mock severity didn't last long: A combination of the wine that she'd consumed, the speed of her ascent and the fact that she'd begun laughing once more, saw her lose her balance and stumble. Darting forward I managed to catch Sarah by a wrist and while I couldn't arrest her fall completely, I did at least slow her descent. So, rather than her landing on the floor, Sarah ended up spread-eagled on the couch again and it was instead me who crashed to the floor, landing heavily on my knees at Sarah's feet.
Our shared fall did at least resolve the stocking-viewing issue, with Sarah sprawled across the couch, legs akimbo and her skirt up around her hips, from my position on the floor I was afforded an amazing view of those new stockings:
The gold and purple that I'd glimpsed earlier resolved into depictions of a snake slithering along the inside of each leg, their tails where by Sarah's ankles, the heads half-way up her inner thigh while the protruding tongues ventured higher still. I say 'tongues' but rather than the forked tongues one might have expected, these were bright purple, shaped like erect and very large human cocks, pointing directly towards the exposed crotch of Sarah's panties!
My reaction was instinctive and a hand lunged forward without conscious thought. Thought arrived a millisecond later: 'No! It's Sarah... your mother-in-law... and Beth's sat right next to her, watching you! STOP!' I almost made it, but in the instant before my hand pulled back, the knuckles tapped against the gusset of Sarah's panties; it was only a gentle touch, but sufficient for me to feel how damp those pants were and also draw a whispered mewl from Sarah's lips.
The second directive arrived inside my skull even as my hand was screeching to a halt: 'Yes... finger her... that's exactly what she needs!' With my whole body tensed and that extended hand visibly trembling, realisation dawned and I turned my eyes toward Beth; the intonation of that second voice had been Beth's, rather than my own! What I found was my wife grinning playfully with a wicked gleam in her eye; Sarah slowly and very distinctly nodded as she mouthed the words 'Go on... Do it!'
It's often said that a picture is worth a thousand words and the foregoing proves just that; I doubt those last three paragraphs covered more than three seconds of real time. My hand was reaching forward for a second time, even before I'd broken eye contact with Beth and this time there was to be no remission. A further three seconds and Sarah's panties had been pushed aside by my index finger and my middle one had plunged deep into her receptive gash, a penetration which Sarah accommodated with a soft purr and hips lifting to meet the intrusion.
I wasn't the only one to note Sarah's subtle but positive response and Beth's voice one again invaded my thoughts: "I told you... now give Mum two; walk them around inside her... like you do with me." After six years together, that statement was clear enough to me, if not to you: A second assault saw my index finger slip inside Sarah too, that probed and pulled at the top of her pussy, searching for the G-spot, while my middle finger 'stirred the pot' so to speak.
In tandem, I stroked the pad of my thumb back and forth across Sarah's clitoris, its first pass parting the curtains, thereafter brushing across the pleasure-bud itself. This time there was no subtlety to Sarah's response, her pelvis bucked savagely, her back arched and locked rigid, suspending her bum a few inches above the couch, while Sarah's initial moan escalated into a bestial growl before culminating in a full blown scream in announcement of her orgasm. It was explosive and quick, not having taken Sarah much beyond ten seconds to reach that climax.
Beth had moved in those few seconds, she was now beside me so her next edict was whispered directly into my ear, as Beth grabbed the waistband of my joggers and jerked them to my knees: "Now shag her, that's what Mum really wants; not some piece of inanimate plastic, she needs a stiff flesh and blood cock inside of her. Fuck her!" I don't think that my wife's ever issued an order which I've been happier to comply.
