I woke up, as I now did every morning, in bed with my fiancé's mother Celeste. I touched the softness of her lacy sea green nightgown, and slipped my hand between the strap of it and the lovely smooth skin of her shoulder. I licked my lips and felt desire growing in me once again for this amazing, sensuous woman with whom I had fallen utterly in love.
In another week I would be marrying Phil, as planned, but all three of us knew very well that I would really be marrying his mother, Celeste. It would not be Phil, but his mother who would bed me on my wedding night. It would be she who would help me out of my gorgeous white taffeta wedding gown, she who would peel off my white stockings, she who would hear my soft moans of pleasure as she began to make love to me as her bride, and Celeste alone who would hear my heartfelt words of love panted in her ear as I orgasmed in her arms, as her wife.
I caressed Celeste's stylish blonde hair as I lay with her in her bed, and pressed my breasts up against her. She was accustomed to me needing frequent sex with her; I had been sleeping exclusively with her for three weeks now, and we had made love at least a hundred times.
Celeste stirred in my arms and smiled at me--a mixture of motherly amusement and love, and sexual pride and desire. This marvelous 47 year old woman had told me, as we recovered from a session of passionate lovemaking one night, that it thrilled and pleased her to have a sexy 22 year old woman constantly aflame for her. The fact that I was her son's bride-to-be, and that I had transferred all of my devotion to her, thrilled her too.
"Good morning, sunshine," Celeste said softly, her lips at my ear, her warm breath exciting me there. She rolled over on top of me, her body bed-warm and wonderfully lush, and she kissed me deeply as I lay beneath her on the silk sheets of her bed. The bed creaked softly under us as she took me with her kisses, and the covers rustled nicely as she mounted me, still wearing her nightgown.
"Please, Celeste, " I begged. "Please fuck me darling." Her soft lips touched my face, my lips, my throat. Her full soft breasts pressed against mine.
"Tell me, Jennifer, my love," she cooed between achingly sensual kisses, "tell me what you need from me." And so I begged her, making no effort to keep my voice down, to fuck me, that I wanted and needed her to fuck me. I knew that my fiancé Phil, alone in the next room, could hear me begging his mother to make love to me, but I didn't care. I needed Celeste's sexual love, right now.
Celeste slipped her silken thigh between my legs and began moving on top of me. "I'm not even going to undress first," she teased me. "I'm going to fuck you to a wonderful orgasm without even taking my nightgown off." She licked my throat and held me in place where she wanted me on the bed as I joyfully surrendered to her.
We moved together as one, a woman and her wife to be, making love in bed on a sunny morning. I held her tighter as my arousal intensified. I just kept begging her to take me. "Fuck me Celeste, I love you, honey, you're so superb at this, I'm all yours, please just fuck me, fuck me fuck meeeeee!" Again, I was dimly aware that Phil could hear me, but I knew from things he had admitted to me since I had become his mother's woman rather than his, that I was not the first woman he had ever heard crying out in passion from his mother's bed.
Almost effortlessly, Celeste brought me to ecstasy, calling out her name in the morning quiet of the house. When I finally subsided, and lay spent and panting beneath her, all I could hear at first was her aroused breathing as she lay on top of me. But then I heard a knock at the door.
I didn't even try to hide the fact that I was in a blissful state of sexual afterglow, as my fiancé stuck his head in the door and asked what we would like for breakfast.
He watched in adoring fascination as his mother kissed her blissed out girlfriend--me--deeply in front of her son, and then obeyed Celeste when she told him to get her hairbrush from her dresser.
There is nothing quite so sweet as seeing a man who is completely enthralled with his own mother, to the point of open worship.
Celeste sat up in bed and told Phil to sit behind her on the very edge of the bed and brush her hair. As her son served her in this sweet way, I cuddled up to her and we idly caressed each other as Celeste enjoyed the feeling of the brush moving through her hair, and her limp and satisfied girlfriend incoherently murmuring endearments to her.
One night, after I had been sharing his mother's bed for about a week, I went into Phil's room at bedtime, just to say goodnight before returning to Celeste's embrace. I was wearing a white terry cloth robe and nothing else, and was flushed from the hot shower I had just enjoyed. I sat on the edge of his single bed and smiled at him as he lay under the covers.
"Goodnight, sleepyhead," I said to him with a smile, as if talking to a young boy of whom I was rather fond. Phil then reached for me, his eyes filled with desperate desire. I thought he understood--after all, he had brought me home actually hoping that I would fall for Celeste, and I had--and so I was taken by surprise, but I still rather easily fended him off. I told him sternly, "I belong to your mother now, Phil. You know that." I searched his eyes to be sure he was taking in my words.
At my stern tone, he immediately became docile and even seemed a little ashamed. I softened toward him and ruffled his hair. "Heyyy, don't feel bad! There's no way you could ever begin to compete with your Mom, honey. No one could. She just makes me glow, and she makes me so so happy."
Phil seemed to take this in. He gently took my hand, and shyly asked, "Oh Jennifer, you touch...Her...with these lovely little hands...don't you?" Of course he knew that I did.
"Yes, sweetie, I do. I love touching your Mom." Phil groaned shifted under the covers. "I love her," I added. He began to tremble uncontrollably. Pitying him, I affectionately reached under the blanket and took him gently in my hand. "I am her wife," I said softly, and with a single stroke of my hand I brought him to climax. I waited until he stopped orgasming, and then reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand, and wiped off my hand. Then I placed the tissue box on his blanket, and said, "Okay young man, clean yourself up. I'm going to Celeste now. I know she wonders why i haven't come to bed yet."
I held my wrist under his nose. "I'm wearing Hugo Red...I hope your mom likes it." Then I got up and, tossing Phil a last little smile, I went padding next door to the love of my life, his beautiful and sexy mother.
"Where've you been?" Celeste asked, tilting her head adorably and smiling at me.
"Not to worry my love, " I soothed her. "You know I am yours all yours." And with that I crawled into bed with her. We kissed for what seemed like forever, slowly and sensually building each other's desire. I cupped my older lover's breasts as I kissed her hungrily, and her little hands were all over my eager young body. Soon we were panting in each other's arms and ready to truly make love. It would be the fourth time that day.