A little help
I fathered my first child at age 27. If I had known it would have been so straining on my sex life, I may have had a vasectomy. Fortunately, I didn’t know anything until the first one.
My wonderful wife never nags. She never complained during her pregnancy. She was great except for one thing: in the last trimester she shut everything down. She simply said that she was worried, and that it just felt weird knowing that there was a little baby in her while we made love. The fact that it was a little girl bothered her even more. As she was being good enough to explain her feelings, I felt obliged to give in.
I was fine for a while, but as the 8th month began, my urges simply began to compound in a way that needed attention. What also needed attention was the nursery, and her family pitched in. First, my mother-in-law helped paint. Then Andrea’s sister-in-law helped organize and child-proof the room.
Now, for 49, my mother-in-law is still one hot momma. She takes very good care of her body, and has a plastic-surgeon tighten what nature loosens up. At 5 feet 4 inches and 130 pounds, her DD rack just kind of sticks straight out on top of a very curvaceous body. If I had tried to bag a girl like that, I’d normally be shot down. As she was Andrea’s mother I really never needed to worry about that.
But in the nursery during that first week of the 8th month, things happened that I can’t explain. I knew Andrea had a close relationship with her mother. And I knew she talked about our sex life. I didn’t know what my mother-in-law thought about it.
Anyway, Grace was helping to paint the nursery and there was a chest near one wall. It had to move. Grace said, “Paul, can you help me move this into the middle of the room?”
I moved toward her knowing that I could easily lift the chest all by myself. “Sure, Grace, let me get it.” As soon as I got right behind her, she bent straight over at the hips and started playing with the chest like she was preparing it for something.
I noticed the faint outline of her lacy white boy shorts against her straining white cotton pants. That’s when I grabbed her ass. “Paul!” she exclaimed.
“Sorry, Grace. I guess I’m just a little worked up this month.”
“Oh. Yeah. Andrea told me. You must be racked with tension. It’s no big deal.”
We went back to moving the chest and I got it in the middle of the room, and we started painting. I could have sworn the fumes were getting to Grace. She started doing little dances every time she dipped a roller into the paint, and her breasts would jiggle for a bit then stop. Once, while I was on the ladder touching up the corner of the wall and ceiling, Grace walked right under me, and I could have sworn that she grabbed at my dick. I thought to myself, “Yeah, Grace, I’m hard as a fucking rock and if you keep jiggling, I’m going to let you know just how tense I am.”
Sense we were painting, Andrea was with her sister-in-law for the day. You know…those fumes. Well, after 3 hours alone with Grace diddy bopping about the room, I reached a tipping point. And Grace did something that pushed me over the edge. Instead of picking up the paint tray and using that with the brush that she was using to touch up spots on the walls, she bent over the chest and dipped it into the paint can. That outline of the lacy boy shorts just called to me.
I didn’t even take time to put down my brush. I grabbed her ass again. And again she said, “Paul!” but this time she didn’t sound quite as surprised.
“You knew this was coming, Grace.”
“I’m your mother-in-law.”
“It’s still incest.”
“I’m still horny.” I started rubbing her back with one hand keeping her bent over the chest while the other hand found her mound. Just like I thought. She was wet. She also wasn’t really fighting back very much. I didn’t have to work to hard to hold her down and unzip my pants. Damn it! I was horny and I wasn’t about to take my time.
I jabbed forward and sent about five inches of me into her moist hole. She yelp, “Paul, Stop it now.” But I just nudged a bit deeper. As I pulled back for another thrust, she pulled forward to get away. She had no luck. The chest stopped her as I slammed back into her.
“Paul, if you stop now, I won’t be mad.” She’s trying to bargain with me. I know she probably didn’t want this to happen, but it was. I pulled back out. Her pussy was slick and warm. It responded to me by tightening each time I pulled out.
“God Grace. You’re warm.”
“I won’t tell anyone, Paul.” What? She won’t tell? Did she mean that she wouldn’t tell anyone this happened or that she wouldn’t tell anyone if I stopped. Fuck it. I grabbed her tits from outside her shirt. The nipples stood straight out like little stones. A few more thrusts and she stopped saying anything more than, “Oh Paul.” “We shouldn’t be.”
“NNnnnhnnn!” She came hard and flooded the front of my jeans. I could feel her pussy pulse. It milked me. She turned her head and said, “It’s okay, Paul. I understand. Let it out. Cum inside me.”
I pumped my hips a few more times and let spurt after spurt of backed up cum shoot into my mother-in-law. Her pussy just undulated around my cock causing me to continue dribbling cum into her as we lay across the chest recovering.
“Paul, no one needs to know we did this.”
“I know, Grace. Let’s finish this painting though.”