Son-in-Law's Summer of Love and Sex

This is a Summer Lovin' contest story. Please vote.

Wife abandons husband and baby for a wild life on the French Riviera.

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Glad for the experience, it had been a long, hot, emotionally charged and sexually frustrating summer spent with my mother-in-law. Surviving the heat, a record number of 90 plus degree consecutive days, no longer feeling sorry for myself, I was looking forward to the cooler temperatures of fall to clear my head for a fresh start. It all started a year ago last summer when my wife, Samantha, left me and our baby, Michael, for not only another man but also for another lifestyle.

I experienced some of the best times in my life with my wife, the love of my life, and I had some of the worst times after she left. Down, depressed, deceived, used, and abused, it wasn't until after she left me that I could clearly see her for the horrible person that she was. Sad and lonely, and forsaking my friends and family to heal myself alone, I hid myself in my house with my mother-in-law, Christine, and my son, Michael, as my only companions. I was devastated by her leaving me and it's taken me a more than a year to get my life back.

After my wife invited her mother to live with us in Massachusetts to help care for our infant son, Christine sold her house in California and moved east. Surprisingly and thankfully, perhaps out of guilt, loyalty, devotion, or the love of her grandson, she stayed with me, even after her daughter left. Maybe like me, she figured her daughter would return one day. Maybe like me, she was just as lonely as I was, that is, until I discovered that she was just as sexually attracted to me as I was to her.

Slow to simmer to a summertime boil, my sexual relationship with Christine started a year after Samantha left when I saw her unabashedly standing in my bedroom doorway in her sexy nightgown. A sight to behold, but a perilous bridge to cross, if I made love to Samantha's mother, that one act would seal my fate by putting a final exclamation point to end my marriage with her daughter forever. Still harboring hopes of her returning, if Samantha returned, she'd never forgive me for having had sex with her mother. Yet gone for more than a year, my wife already ended our marriage when she left me and abandoned our child. Nonetheless, with mother more woman than daughter could ever be, if I began a love relationship with Christine, she'd never leave me in the way her daughter had and she'd never forsake her grandson in the way that Samantha had abandoned our son.

"May I sleep with you?"

Preoccupied in thought over imagining Christine naked while fingering my cock through my pajama bottom, I was about to masturbate over her again, my regular nightly routine. As if I had imagined her voice floating through my unconscious mind, she surprised me. When I heard her voice, I was sitting on my bed contemplating my day spent with the woman of my desire while wishing I wasn't sleeping alone. When I looked up at my mother-in-law, the woman I now love, she stood in my bedroom doorway biting her lip, playing with her nightgown ties, and looking at me with sexuality, trepidation, and vulnerability. As stunned as I was sexually excited, I couldn't believe she was standing there so exposed in her most revealing dressing gown. I couldn't believe she asked if she could sleep with me.

Wearing makeup with her hair beautifully done and smelling of sweet perfume, I looked at her not believing she was really standing there. Was I dreaming or did she really ask if she could sleep with me? After sexually fantasizing about her for so long, was it wishful thinking that played tricks with my mind? A huge leap of faith in our quickly changing relationship, obviously with both of us lonely and sexually attracted to one another, already knowing the answer to her question, did she really think I'd say no? Just as I never said no to her daughter, I'd never say no to her mother.

With her standing in the hall, the nightlight behind her illuminated as if she was an angelic illusion. I couldn't help but notice the dark impressions her areolas, nipples, and blonde patch of pubic hair made through her sheer nightgown. Staring at her as if she was my angel sent to me in my time of need, I saw her glance down at the bulge in my pajama bottom before she looked up at me to make solid eye contact. I wondered how long she had been standing in the doorway. I wondered had she seen me fingering my cock, if she would have liked what she saw. Had she not said a word for a few more seconds with me not knowing she was standing there watching me, she would have caught me pulling out my prick and stroking myself over the naked thoughts of her. With her standing there watching me, I couldn't help but wonder, had she seen me masturbating, if that would have killed or encouraged my chances of sleeping with her.

A man who needed to be hit over the head with a baseball bat to understand when a woman was hitting on me, did she look down at my cock so that I'd understand that she didn't want to sleep with me but wanted to have sex with me? With her wearing her low cut and nearly transparent, blue, pastel nightgown, looking so much like a blonde, busty angel dressed in a soft cloud of silk and satin, she showed me more of her beautiful body than I've ever seen before. She showed me more of herself than I was showing her of myself. Being the horny and perverted son-in-law that I am, after seeing her standing there so exposed, I was eager to return the sexual favor and expose myself to her.

Just because she was nearly naked with her big breasts nearly hanging out of her nightgown, not wanting to ruin things, I didn't dare be so vulgar as to flash her. Not wanting to scare her off and extinguish what we had before taking the time to heat up our sexual fire, being that she was already eager to give herself to me, I thought better of whipping out my cock. Suddenly having second thoughts, I felt guilty for what I was about to do. Even though she just asked if she could sleep with me, even though she's wearing her sexiest nightgown that exposed most of her naked body to me, she's still my wife's mother. If the shoe was on the other foot, I wouldn't want my brother-in-law sleeping with my mother. Only, I didn't have a brother-in-law and my mother looked nothing like Christine.

As if the past year fast forwarded in my mind, thinking back of all our times together, it was then that I thought of all the subtle signs she had given me and all faint hints that should have told me that she wanted me. How could I be so dumb not to notice her wanting me? How could I not know that she was as interested in bedding me as I was interested in having sex with her? Having never seen so much of her body, even on the beach in her barely there bikini, as if she was my new bride instead of my old mother-in-law, not that she was old, just older than me, she was wearing something that I imagined she'd wear on her Honeymoon. Being that my 30th birthday had just passed and with her nightgown looking more like thin, tissue paper than expensive sleepwear, I thought of her as my belated, gift wrapped, birthday present sent to my room psychically by my wishful thinking.

"Yes," I said staring at her with lust in my eyes and love in my heart.

A sexual fantasy come true with me saying yes, all that was needed to seal our romantic union, one word and one syllable meant so much more than giving her my permission. It meant the start of something life changing. It meant that I was about to sleep with Samantha's mother, my mother-in-law. It meant that I wouldn't feel lonely and horny again, so long as Christine stayed with me and so long as we continued this sexual relationship.

When she walked in my bedroom, not knowing what else to do, I stood as if standing for a lady entering the room. Ready to embrace this new sexual relationship, I stood poised to hold her, touch her, feel her, caress her, kiss her, and make love to her. Only, as soon as I stood, as if seeing me standing with her from afar, I balked. Suddenly feeling so very perverted and having second thoughts again, I felt that I was cheating on Samantha, even though she had been cheating on me. My brain was saying no but my cock was saying yes.

Now embarrassed as much as I was excited by seeing her so exposed and vulnerable, the bulge of my semi-erect penis was obvious in my pajama bottom and I was embarrassed by my own sexual expectations and anticipations. With my emotions flip flopping, being at a disadvantage physically by involuntarily showing her how I felt, I was embarrassed by my emerging erection but excited at the same time that she saw the lust that I had for her. This wasn't just any woman that I was about to bed, this was my mother-in-law. A sexual taboo, the forbidden sexual family connection resonated in my mind. Of all people, how could I be so lonely, so needy, so horny, so desperate, so despicable, and so perverted to want to have sex with my mother-in-law? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with her to solicit me for sex, her own son-in-law?

Had her daughter still been with me, I never would have considered having sex with her mother. Then, again, had she not been my wife's mother, because of how gorgeous she looks, the sexy body she has, and the sexual attraction that I have for her, I would have tried to have sex with her months ago. Even after developing feelings for Christine, so afraid to approach her and make my feelings known, I became frustratingly content to lust over her from afar. Instead of trying to bed her, instead of embarrassing myself by making a pass at her, my nightly routine was to masturbate while thinking of having sex with her. Wanting to have an intimate relationship with her for months and still too nervous to make the first move, my sexual frustration may have endlessly continued and culminated with neither of us getting what we wanted had Christine not asked to sleep with me.

Taking her by the hand, I led her to my bed. As if we were about to have our first session of couple's therapy and needed to discuss what we were about to do, we sat in silence with our hands in our laps. Surely, preferring not to talk but to kiss, I didn't need to talk about what I wanted to do with her. Just as I had already done with her daughter, the first time that I was with her four years ago, I knew what I wanted to do with her mother.

Attracted to Christine from the first day I met her, especially now in the way I missed her daughter, and especially now with her in her nightgown and asking my permission to sleep with me, I wanted to have sex with her. Lusting over her for years, I wanted to touch and feel her everywhere. Feeling so lonely and so horny, and with her looking so very much like Samantha, sometimes even mistaking mother for daughter, especially in the dark and especially when so wishing that she was Samantha reincarnated while pretending that she was, I wanted to make love to her. Yet, not wanting to make the same mistake twice and wanting to go through whatever this would become with my eyes wide open, I was hesitant to begin something that I may not be able to finish or something that could easily backfire and become another emotional disaster. After ruing the day I bedded daughter, I didn't want to rue the day I bedded mother too.

Even though the abrupt end to my marriage wasn't my fault, I blamed myself that it was. Being that we were already best friends and fun companions, I didn't want to ruin my relationship with my mother-in-law with sex. Instead of being so eager to be with her physically, something new for me to resist the urge, I took a step back to take my time while waiting to join her sexually. Now that we were already close friends and were already there emotionally, our next step was to explore one another's bodies sexually. We both knew that we wanted to have sex and I was just as nervous as she was to take that next step. Yet she took that first step already by asking me if she could sleep with me.

Wanting to reassure her, along with myself, with her sitting beside me, I looked at her and smiled before taking her hand in mine again. Afraid to say anything for fear that I'd say something dumb enough for her to realize the perverted son-in-law I am and make her flee my room, I sat there lovingly holding her hand while playing with her fingers. What was there to say? There were no words for how I felt about wanting to sleep with my wife's mother. Either we had sex or we didn't.

Needing to feel that she was real and that I wasn't dreaming, I put my arm around her and ran my hand along her shoulder before continuing down her arm. The sexy sight of her was so arousing. Her perfume made me dizzy with sexual excitement and I just wanted to kiss her. Only, knowing that my kiss would lead to more, I debated with myself before taking a step that could either ruin my life more or make me the happiest man on earth. Should I or shouldn't I have sex with my mother-in-law? This was a big step.

Even though I had put sunscreen lotion on her body many times, I had never touched my mother-in-law in the way that I was touching her and about to touch her now, sexually, erotically, romantically, and seductively. Even though this was Samantha's mother sitting beside me in her nightgown and even though she already gave me the green light by asking if she could sleep with me, I felt as if I was a teenager at the cinema with my date while trying to work up the courage to make it to first base by feeling her breast. With the nightlight that lit my room enough for me to see, I could discern part of her breast down her nightgown. It was obvious that she had natural breasts that were just as wonderfully amazing as her daughter's silicon breasts.

"I'm so nervous, Stephen," she said in the way that I imagined she'd say, if I was sitting with her at a doctor's office to give her moral support while waiting for the results of a medical test. "You're not just any man," she said looking at me with apprehension. "You're my daughter's husband, my son-in-law. Only, so attracted to you, I'm so very lonely."

If we were to have a love affair that lasted longer than the three years that I had with her daughter, I wondered what she'd look like in twenty years. Quickly, I did the math in my head. In twenty years, she'll be sixty-eight and I'll be fifty. Not so bad, so long as she stayed active, was healthy, and stayed out of the sun. With her collecting Social Security and me working at a job, financially this could work. Gees, what the Hell am I thinking? I'm about to have sex with my mother-in-law.

"I'm nervous too," I said looking deeply in her blue eyes and giving her a smile of encouragement while figuring that lonely was a woman's code word for horny. "You're so beautiful, Christine," I said trying to relax her, calm myself, and excite her all at the same time. "Just as you're lonely, I am too," while almost blurting out the word horny. "From the first day I met you, I've always been attracted to you." With you looking so much like your daughter, especially at your age, I'm a lucky man, I thought but didn't say my backhanded compliment.

Even though I so wanted to kiss her, I was afraid. Her lips were forbidden fruit. The Devils playground, her lips were off limits. Her lips were Eve's apple given to Adam and her pussy was Dante's Inferno on my certain, future admittance to Hell.

Even though I was working up my nerve to kiss her and seduce her, I didn't dare. Had she been any other woman showing up in my room wearing what she was wearing, I would have kissed and felt her beautiful body by now. Had she been anyone else, I would have stripped her naked and already been busy making love to her. Only, she wasn't just any woman. Even though I wanted her and had fantasized about having sex with her, with her here now calling my bluff, it was difficult for me to wrap my brain around having sex with her.

So very hesitant, even though she was the one who made the first move by coming to my room in her revealing nightgown and asking to sleep with me, I didn't understand why I was so afraid to kiss her. As if her lips were suddenly electrified barbed wire, for fear of a fatal shock, I was afraid to touch her lips with mine. Should our romantic connection be a mistake and prematurely end, having already established a bond of trust and a strong connection, hopefully those warm feelings would surely transcend any future physical and emotional relationship problems we'd have and not ruin our friendship.

With both of us going into this with eyes wide open, we weren't children. With both of us needing some sexual comfort, we weren't infatuated teenagers driven wild by puppy love; we were mature adults. Yet, analyzing our sudden sexual connection, did we feel the need to have sex because Samantha rejected us by leaving? Feeling her consternation along with my own, I needed to ensure Christine, as well as myself, that what we already had and what we were about to do couldn't be ruined by being needy, feeling guilty, and having second thoughts. What we already had was a strong foundation for love. What we already had was the most fun that I've ever had with a woman without removing her clothes. Being that I was still married to her daughter, what we were about to do was wrong on more than one level, nonetheless, what we were about to do was so right on many other levels.

"Kiss me," she said.

With too much temptation to say no, but slow to react, it took her to appear at my bedroom door nearly naked for me to understand that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. It took her to ask my permission to sleep with me for me to invite her in my bedroom. It took her to tell me to kiss her for me to kiss her. What's wrong with me? If I don't kiss her now, she'll think that I don't want her. If I don't kiss her now, she'll think that I'm rejecting her for the hope her bitch and whore of a daughter will return. After developing deep feelings for my mother-in-law, I no longer wanted my wife. I wanted mother over daughter.

Unable to say no and unable to tell her to return to her room, I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulled her to me, and kissed her as if we were standing in front of Niagara Falls. When she allowed me to part her lips with my tongue and she responded with hers, it took me a moment to wrap my head around and get beyond the fact that I was French kissing my mother-in-law. Something I've imagined doing in my sexual fantasies and masturbation sessions and something that I wanted to do for so long, was finally happening now. Only this was different. This was real and not a sexual fantasy. With her lips so full and her kisses so passionate, I loved kissing Christine more than I ever enjoyed kissing her daughter. A thousand miles away, with her daughter always so preoccupied with her past, current, and future modeling assignments, and just going through the motions, she was never there with me in our relationship.

A year ago, missing her daughter as if she had suddenly died, I never would have French kissed her mother but now I was French kissing Christine, the woman I love. With my two-year-old son asleep for the night in the next room, we had hours to ourselves. Perhaps with both of us afraid to get more comfortable in bed, as if falling back in bed was taking a plunge deeper than we were ready and willing to take, we sat together on the edge of the bed kissing.

Even though I couldn't wait to touch her and feel her, more aroused kissing her than I imagined I'd be touching her, her kisses reminded me of kissing her daughter when we first started dating four years ago. Only now with my eyes wide open, kissing Christine was better than kissing Samantha. When I closed my eyes, I imagined Samantha was there with me. Then, when I opened my eyes to look in Christine's eyes, my excitement grew with the thoughts that Samantha was gone and I was making out with her mother.