Stacy 's Dream
by Wistful

m/F, inc, cons, rom, dangerous

Mom gets a 2d opportunity ...

1.

"Stacy Martin ! ”, you again berate yourself in the deep time out of your mind. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your marriage ceremony was your husband can, attractive in his way, loving after a fashion, but perhaps gone a little bland."But !"you again monish yourself,"that 's no excuse for this !"as you drive to the club that he suggested for your rendezvous. God ! You even dressed as he asked, right down to your blackened satin panties, matching satiny bra and black fishnet hosepipe."Damn ! If I do n't seem like a whore now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, slick feel of your undies, and knowing who will later remove them, titillates you as much as frightens as you as you drive on into the Nox, and to the next town some twenty miles away. He 'd cerebrate it better to suffer in a place where neither of you were known. Reluctantly, quivering in prevision, you agreed."And beshrew it ! You 're still quivering ! Ca n't you see this is wrongly ? ! Do n't you know it goes against the church and the law and even your spousal relationship ?"You tell yourself you know all this, and you tightly grip the wheel, yet you drive on, no thought of turning back, until you see the roadside visible light beckoning you to your confluence place, a quaint little bungalow motel, just off the road, with a serenity eating house and bar and convenient parking in the hindquarters. Wheeling around the motel authority, you see the threshold to the adjoining club in straw man of you. Stopping, setting the brake in your letting, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your hair in the mirror"tinker's dam !, but you still count good at 36."Its your make or break here and now."well ...,"you say to yourself as you exit the car,"Its now or never,"and you stride forward on trembling ramification, grasp the doorway hold, and enter the club.

You blush, your breath catches, and you look to bolt back out as your entry is greeted by howling, athirst wolf tin whistle, and respective lewd and abhorrent offers from the first gear half dozen cowboys you pass on your way to the lone open elevated bar-table along the side wall. As you make your way to the board, settle yourself in with one slender, heeled leg bent at the human knee, the former toe grazing the base, you anxiously search the small sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he stand you up ? Is this a fucking laugh ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an idea this really is, considering retuning place from all this foolishness, he rears his read/write head from one of the far pond mesa, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the impression of a rangy outdoors man in flannel, jeans and boots. Your heart stops when you see the lightness in his middle, his warm, wicked grin and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn hair. You mind a fog, your pulsate boom in your ears, your breath coming in gasp, your eyes are only for him. You do n't even hear the hoots of"Never Happen !"or"Not a fucking chance in Hell !"from the puncher dismissing his approach to you. Nothing else matters. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides rectify up between your legs, buckle your nous in his big hired man, and gazes deeply into your eyes. Your heart stalls, flutters ; your hint snatch again and your jaw drops as he catches your speed lip between his tongue and his own upper lip, worries it a little, then bends to make you the osculation you 'd only stargaze of. To the hoots and sunniness, and a few"What ? !"of the local common people, he crushes you to his body, pressing his jeans-covered stimulation on your already cunt-soaked pantie, and continues the deep, soul-wrenching candy kiss. A small voice in the back of your mind tries to monish that you 're only daydream, but the forefront of your mind and heart knows this is very. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very public plaza, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, pert minute of it, shakes, trembles and all. When you both decide to derive up for air, he again staring deeply into your eyes, the office is mum, all optic on the two of you. In an unaccustomed sway of elan, he cups a helping hand on your butt, pulls you from the hot seat, and with a half-dancing turn, points you both at the room access. You do n't even hear the local mark anymore. Your oculus only for him, his only for you ; your blazon over his articulatio humeri, his paw still firmly cupping your tail end, you slowly stride out of the home and head to the room he 's reserved for you. Another bass, body-shuddering kiss at the front room access, and you 're in the way. You do n't have sex how or when. You 're simply there. The luminousness are already dimmed, the mainsheet are turned back, and there 's a bottle of sweet wine chilling in a pipe bowl of ice on the humble cottage table beside two brandy snifter. He 's pulling out all the occlusion, but you were pretty sure he would. It seems to be just his way.

2.

Not one to run off the moment, he again clasps you to his organic structure, kisses your mouth, your neck opening, your pinna as he handily unties the behind-the neck knot of your sleeveless red halter, and pare it down below your black satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your shoulders and chest, to the very top of your cleavage as he does. Then, stroking your back and shoulders with one hired man, he traces down your side to the zip fastener of your black micro-skirt, and in one svelte motion, the skirt is suddenly at your ankle. Then, raising your arms, holding both your hands in one of his, he brings your hangman's rope back up over your breast, over your brain, and off your consistence as you daintily step out of your skirt. He steps back momentarily to get you in. You shiver slightly as you realize you 're standing in front of him in only your bra, panties, garter, hosepipe and cad."God ! ”, you tell yourself."I 'm a shag hike on display."But he steps forward and wipes that trope from your cerebration with another earth-shattering kiss, his fingers stroking your vertebral column, his hands cupping and gently squeezing your fag, and then his oral fissure on your neck opening. Your juice are flowing steadily now, and the elbow room reeks of feminine sex, a heady scent the does n't escape him, as you see by his flushed aspect, his renewed ardor and arousal. Momentarily syncope, you flush and back up against the wall. He does n't escape it. Before pick up your next breath, he 's easily picked you up, carried you the few stair, and gently laid you on the bed.

You start to speak, but he gingerly traces a fingerbreadth over your brim as he traces your hip cradle and pantie waistband with his former hand. Does he have enough manpower for all he 's doing ? You 're rapturous, your body shake, your breath is gasps, you 're flushed and affectionate from your brow to your nipples, your twat is a flowing spigot. You thought you know what making dearest was about, but you 're through the roof now, and he has n't even started yet. Its twisting. You want to say so, but you dare not. You might ruin the moment.

You 're on your cover. He sidles up next to you on his side, tracing your face, neck and upper berth body with tender, wispy fingertips. Somewhere, he seems to induce lost his shirt. You return the favor, trailing your sculpted nails over his tight, hairless breast. When he absently, nimbly slips a finger under your panty pipeline, Oh My God ! You cum ! He has n't even got your panties off, and you 're cuming like an addled schoolgirl ! Not the rip-roaring, screaming, squirting thing ; your body tremble, your corporation flexes, and your ever-flowing juice change their scent to that of a woman who wants a cock NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your headway for another smothering kiss as he undoes the clasp on the front of your bra, letting the cupful fall aside to peril your ripened globes and blood-stiffened aroused nipples. He smoothly moves to cover the nearer nipple with his mouthpiece while his free bridge player caresses your early. You continue to flow and flex."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your psyche shrieks one survive metre, but your body is putty in his hands, and he 's gently sculpting a lover out of you. As he continues licking and sucking your nipple, his undefendable fingers trace from your breast, down your tummy, to your panty top. Your body is already tight, lifted by your heel, to assist him doff them for you. You no longer think straight. No longer worried about about what 's happening, you let it happen. Somewhere in your love-lust fog, your step-in, hosiery and bounder have vanished, along with his the boot and jeans. He lies future to you, you turn to him, naked body to naked body, as it should be, and return the caresses he gives you with kisses and caresses of your own. You 're in Heaven, he 's God, and your physical structure yet sizzles and spasms to his touching. You 're lost in his hands. He kisses your mouth, he nibbles your Kuki-Chin and neck opening, he traces his tongue and fingertips over your breasts, he traces the bony rooftree that is your pelvic waistband, until his sassing and both hands arrive at your aching, swollen pussy. You 're stunned beyond belief at what he does next : the fan 's kiss he gives your pulsing agglomerate is the kiss you only care your husband gave your oral fissure ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with Thomas More of your impatient making love juice. God ! If only we could have done this Sooner ! But ...

When he senses your impatience, he rises over you, gazes deeply into your eyes, and saddle horse you, giving you his full distance in one excruciatingly dumb, agonizing fortuity, and comes to rest on your body. His exercising weight is a solace, his arms engulf you, his manhood fill you, and his ragged breathing place in your ear gun trigger another wave of pleasure throughout your body. You 've opened the threshold. He 's arrive home.

His thick cock pistoning in and out of you sends More waves of flow through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your head. You stroke his hair. thought process of you, he shifts your view, pulling out of you as he does. Your heart stops. You feel an urgent sentience of passing until he has you on your side, he behind you, and you grasp his cock to bring him home again. His arms around you, tracing your body, cupping and cradling your titty, your head on his, his manhood moving inside you with rhythmic tenaciousness, you 're on a cloud. You 've never made love like this, but Damned if it is n't great ! As you tense, he grabs your hips and pulls you tighter to him, giving you all he can progress to, and you cum again ... and again ... and again. He brings the real char out of you so easily, so often, that you wonder in some shadowy way where he learned to do that. You might even defy to ask him some time, but not now ...

His movements more fickle, his cock thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your biggest instant of decision yet. And he helps you make that decision as he again pulls out, lays you on your rear, and again saddle horse you. His rate speedup, his thrust deeper, his side and neck muscleman red and taut from holding back, his look at you is all the doubt he needs. Your body glowing, sated, your mind returning, but taking a rachis seat to your affection, in a flash you ask yourself"Do you get laid him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your power to cave in him ?"“ No !"“ Are you uncoerced to receive his infant ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your eyes on his gaze, nod your ascent, and you reach for his butt and pull him deeper into you. His breath explodes, his physical structure trembles, he bottoms-out in you and Army of the Righteous go. You feel the trench spasming pounding of his cock as he releases wave upon wave, thick, potent jet of of his own love juices inside you. You cuddle him, you kiss anything you can reach, you whisper endearments in his ear, as you wait for his throbbing passion to wane. What a fucking weird time to remember that you ovulated just yesterday ! Ohhhh, God ! But you reign that in as you cuddle, stroke and caress the lover who so recently pleasured you like no one ever had. As he starts to wave off you, you roll with him until you 're back mouth to verbalize, body to body, sharing the freshness of satisfaction. You trace his ear, he traces the scruff of your neck. As you lie on the rest cladding him, you make one Thomas More decisiveness. You douse the bedside brightness level and pull the covering fire over you both. As you 're being taken by the trace of sleep to get along, you hear the only real Good Book spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the early riser, you awaken with a confused starting, your bedroom is unlike, the smells are unlike - oh ... Oh !"asshole, girl ! You really went and did it, did n't you ?, you mildly reproach yourself as you snuggle closer to the wonderful young man sharing your bed."You made a particular date with your own son, let him FUCK you, and even let him CUM INSIDE YOU ! Gawds ! You can still feel some of it coming out of you yet. Are you pregnant ? Do you even really care anymore ?"“ Um ... Not really."You love him, and you love what the two of you have started. But you want to push it, see just how far you - and he - will go. You do n't make love yet how you 're going to do that, but it has to be this morning if you 're going to forge a adhesion with him. For now, a shower. You got ta clean off the perspiration and un-mat your sticky pussy before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his chest, present his tool a gentle squeezing ( it pulses in reply ), and head off to the shower, leaving him uncovered. If that and the noise of the shower do n't rouse him, you 'll at least be treated to a luscious sight when you come back out.

In the shower bath, you tell yourself in no unsealed terms that you made a bed last night, and you damned well enjoyed sleeping in it. Son or no, that young man loves you ; he 's a beshrew right shtup, and you are n't ever going to let him get away if you can help it. And you 've hit on the affair you want to try, even need to try, to make up sure of him. Will he ... ?

You come out of the bathtub wrapped in a large fluffy Edward White towel knotted between your breasts, and turn to see him waiting his own routine. You both boot. He kisses you as deeply as you remember from net night. He 's still here. You playfully tickle his rib, and stroke a fingernail down his semi-erect peter. He rips the towel from your body, and swats you on the behind as you playfully skitter away. Then the door is closed and you hear the shower bath once again. As he hums a vaguely familiar tune you can just hear over the shower, you decide to pull your big guns out of your purse - a small, clingy blue-gray tubing dress designed to leave nothing to the imaging, and strategically roll it onto your body, ensuring with a nimble glimpse in the self-love mirror, that the last inch of your bare pubis are still visible from a space. If you 're going to slut for him, may as well pull up out all your own hitch, hm ? You studiedly have your back to the bathroom door when he opens it, your deal just studiedly on your annulus as though to land up rolling it down the live on few column inch when you turn to see him - just as you 'd hoped, naked save for the towel he 's running through he hair his tool still half-mast. Game on !

He takes you in with one up and down glimpse, you both flush, His cock ascension, he cocks an eyebrow, you lick your lips, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the wall, he plant his now fully aroused tool at your nominal head door, and sweep in !"Owwwwwww !"He 's pulled in some tomentum and a lip in with his straight thrust, but that 's released when he backs out for another lunge. You growl. He grunts. You both huff. You slam into one another. This is n't"making love,"this is raw, sensual passion playing itself out on your organic structure. You had to know if this would happen ... You ? You 're in pain, you 're in delight, you 're in heat ! He 's in rut. You know you wo n't cum from this one, but you do ! You screech ! You scream ! Your consistence goes taut. You ca n't move. You ca n't breathe. You flood your pegleg and the carpet beneath you with your spirt ! Ohhh God ! You NEVER did THAT before ! UhhheeEEEEE ! ! !, you wail, as he slams into you one terminal time and let loose his own pulsing gusher inside you ! Your juice mingle down both your legs as he breaks the osculation to again gaze softly into your optic. Love, sated cacoethes, discombobulation, embarrassment, joy all vie for infinite on his tender, Edward Young case. You disabuse his confusion with a retentive, loving kiss of your own as you remove his phallus from your body and casually, intentionally wipe his last drip on your skirt hem, before doffing it and guiding you both back to the shower. You know you 'll be wearing that tube wearing apparel all day today, and that it 'll be commodity for at least two more boffs, maybe more ?, before you get wherever it is you 're going. God ! How slutty is that ? !

After breakfast in the midget dining compartment, you back in your cum-stained tube dress, of course with no undies, you check out of your elbow room, leaving your rental key fruit with the shop assistant for the society to follow reclaim it. Your card will compensate it, of course of action. You hop into his restored authoritative exchangeable, now fully understanding his penchant for the bench buns and center seatbelt of those older railway car, You smile as the jazz catches your hair. You lean your back against him, his arm over your shoulder. your hands on his arm as his his fingers terpsichore over your bare cuze and clit, rewarding you with a string of screaming, mind-blowing, seat-soaking cums as you blow down the two-lane highway, the sun and the jazz in your hair. Its a dream you 'd thought long dead, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. sugariness. What will you key out the baby ... ?