Stacy 's Dream
by Wistful

m/F, inc, bunco game, rom, unsafe

Mom gets a second chance ...

1.

"Stacy Martin ! ”, you again berate yourself in the mystifying niche of your intellect. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your marriage ceremony was your hubby John, attractive in his way, loving after a fashion, but perhaps gone a little bland."But !"you again admonish 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 black satin pantie, matching satiny bra and black fishnet hose."hoot ! If I do n't search like a lady of pleasure now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, silken feeling of your undies, and knowing who will later murder them, titillates you as much as frightens as you as you drive on into the night, and to the next Town some twenty Swedish mile away. He 'd thought it in force to run into in a post where neither of you were known. Reluctantly, quivering in anticipation, you agreed."And damn it ! You 're still quivering ! Ca n't you see this is wrong ? ! Do n't you know it goes against the Christian church and the law and even your wedding ?"You assure yourself you know all this, and you tightly grip the bicycle, yet you drive on, no thought of turning back, until you see the roadside lights beckoning you to your group meeting place, a quaint small bungalow motel, just off the road, with a quiet restaurant and bar and convenient parking in the rear. Wheeling around the motel agency, you see the door to the adjoining club in battlefront of you. Stopping, setting the brake in your lease, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your hair in the mirror"Damn !, but you still depend full at 36."Its your make or intermit moment."wellspring ...,"you say to yourself as you exit the car,"Its now or never,"and you stride forward on trembling leg, grasp the door handle, and enter the club.

You blush, your breather catches, and you look to run off back out as your entry is greeted by ululation, hungry wolf whistles, and several lewd and repulsive offers from the first half dozen cowherd you pass on your way to the lone open elevated bar-table along the side wall. As you make your way to the table, settle yourself in with one slender, heeled leg knack at the knee, the early toe grazing the trading floor, you anxiously search the lowly sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he stand you up ? Is this a fucking caper ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an estimation this really is, considering retuning base from all this foolishness, he rears his head from one of the advance pond mesa, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the picture of a gangly outdoors man in flannel, jean and boots. Your core stops when you see the lightness in his middle, his warm, wicked grinning and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn hair. You mind a fog, your pulse yowl in your pinna, your breathing place coming in gasps, your centre are only for him. You do n't even hear the razzing of"Never Happen !"or"Not a fucking chance in Hell !"from the cowman dismissing his approach to you. Nothing else matters. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides mightily up between your legs, buckle your head in his big hands, and gazes deeply into your eye. Your nub stalls, hurly burly ; your breath catches again and your jaw bead as he catches your upper lip between his spit and his own upper lip, worries it a picayune, then bends to give you the kiss you 'd only dreamed of. To the shit and cheers, and a few"What ? !"of the local folk, he crushes you to his organic structure, pressing his jeans-covered arousal on your already cunt-soaked panties, and continues the deep, soul-wrenching buss. A small voice in the back of your judgment endeavor to warn that you 're only dreaming, but the cutting edge of your mind and heart knows this is real. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very populace place, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, saucy minute of it, shakes, trembles and all. When you both decide to do up for air, he again staring deeply into your eyes, the place is dumb, all eyes on the two of you. In an unaccustomed sway of elan, he cups a hand on your goat, drag you from the chair, and with a half-dancing tour, gunpoint you both at the door. You do n't even hear the local jester anymore. Your eyes only for him, his only for you ; your arms over his shoulder, his hired man still firmly cupping your fanny, you slowly stride out of the place and capitulum to the room he 's reserved for you. Another deep, body-shuddering kiss at the front doorway, and you 're in the way. You do n't know how or when. You 're simply there. The lights are already dimmed, the sheets are turned back, and there 's a bottle of sweet wine-colored chilling in a bowl of ice on the small cottage table beside two brandy glass. He 's pulling out all the stops, but you were pretty certain he would. It seems to be just his way.

2.

Not one to waste the moment, he again clasps you to his body, kisses your mouth, your neck, your ear as he handily unties the behind-the cervix mi of your sleeveless red halter, and discase it down below your black satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your shoulder and chest, to the very top of your cleavage as he does. Then, stroking your back and berm with one hand, he traces down your slope to the zipper of your black micro-skirt, and in one svelte move, the skirt is suddenly at your ankle joint. Then, raising your arms, holding both your workforce in one of his, he brings your hackamore back up over your breast, over your head, and off your body as you daintily step out of your skirt. He steps back momentarily to charter you in. You shiver slightly as you realize you 're standing in movement of him in only your bra, panties, supporter, hose and cad."God ! ”, you tell yourself."I 'm a nooky tramp on display."But he steps forward and wipes that range from your sentiment with another earth-shattering buss, his finger stroking your back, his hired man cupping and gently squeezing your butt, and then his mouth on your cervix. Your juices are flowing steadily now, and the room reeks of feminine sex, a heady scent the does n't get out him, as you see by his flushed aspect, his renewed ardor and rousing. Momentarily faint, you flush and back up against the rampart. He does n't miss it. Before catch your following breath, he 's easily picked you up, carried you the few steps, and gently laid you on the bed.

You start to address, but he gingerly traces a finger over your sassing as he traces your hip provenance and panty waistband with his other hired man. Does he have enough hands for all he 's doing ? You 're enraptured, your torso trembles, your breath is gasp, you 're flushed and strong from your eyebrows to your tit, your pussy is a flowing tap. You thought you knew what making love life was about, but you 're through the roof now, and he has n't even started yet. Its straining. You want to say so, but you dare not. You might destroy the moment.

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

He turns your head for another smothering buss as he undoes the grasp on the front of your bra, letting the loving cup fall aside to discover your ripened world and blood-stiffened aroused nipple. He smoothly moves to cover the nearer nipple with his backtalk while his free deal caresses your early. You continue to flow and flex."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your intellect shrieks one stopping point time, but your consistency is putty in his hired hand, and he 's gently sculpting a lover out of you. As he continues licking and sucking your nipple, his open digit trace from your white meat, down your tummy, to your panty top. Your body is already taut, lifted by your heels, to help him doff them for you. You no longer think straight. No longer worried about about what 's happening, you let it come about. Somewhere in your love-lust daze, your panties, hose and heel have vanished, along with his iron heel and jeans. He lies next to you, you turn to him, naked trunk to naked body, as it should be, and refund the caresses he gives you with kisses and caresses of your own. You 're in Heaven, he 's God, and your dead body yet sizzles and spasms to his touch. You 're helpless in his deal. He kisses your mouth, he nibbles your chin and neck, he traces his tongue and fingertips over your breasts, he traces the bony ridge that is your pelvic girdle, until his mouth and both manpower arrive at your aching, egotistical pussycat. You 're stunned beyond belief at what he does next : the lover 's kiss he gives your pulsing hammock is the osculation you only wish your husband gave your backtalk ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with more of your raring dear juices. God ! If only we could hold done this Sooner ! But ...

When he senses your restlessness, he rises over you, gazes deeply into your centre, and backing you, giving you his full phase of the moon length in one excruciatingly slow down, agonizing stroke, and comes to catch one's breath on your eubstance. His weighting is a ease, his subdivision engulf you, his manhood fill you, and his ragged breath in your ear induction another wave of pleasance throughout your body. You 've opened the door. He 's add up home.

His midst cock pistoning in and out of you sends more moving ridge of current through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your head. You stroke his hair's-breadth. thought process of you, he shifts your lieu, pulling out of you as he does. Your heart stops. You feel an pressing sentiency of loss until he has you on your side, he behind you, and you grasp his stopcock to bring him home again. His arms around you, tracing your body, cupping and cradling your bosom, your head on his, his manhood moving inside you with rhythmic persistence, you 're on a swarm. 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 reach out, and you cum again ... and again ... and again. He brings the tangible womanhood out of you so easily, so often, that you wonder in some wispy way where he learned to do that. You might even presume to ask him some meter, but not now ...

His effort more erratic, his cock thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your biggest import of conclusion yet. And he helps you make that decisiveness as he again pulls out, lays you on your rachis, and again mountain you. His pace quickening, his thrust deeper, his face and cervix muscles red and taut from holding back, his look at you is all the question he needs. Your body glowing, sated, your head returning, but taking a back hindquarters to your warmness, in a newsbreak you ask yourself"Do you jazz him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your might to give him ?"“ No !"“ Are you volition to have his baby ... ?"“ 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 breathing space explodes, his physical structure trembles, he bottoms-out in you and let go. You feel the deep spasming pounding of his turncock as he releases wave upon wave, buddy-buddy, virile jet of of his own dearest succus 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 lie with Wyrd time to commend that you ovulated just yesterday ! Ohhhh, God ! But you reign that in as you cuddle, stroke and caress the buff who so recently pleasured you like no one ever had. As he starts to roll off you, you roll with him until you 're back mouth to mouth, physical structure to body, sharing the glow of satisfaction. You trace his ear, he traces the scruff of your neck. As you lie on the pillow lining him, you make one to a greater extent decision. You douse the bedside sparkle and pull the covers over you both. As you 're being taken by the ghost of quietus to come, you hear the only actual words spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the early riser, you awaken with a disoriented start, your sleeping accommodation is unlike, the smells are unlike - oh ... Oh !"motherfucker, little girl ! You really went and did it, did n't you ?, you mildly reproach yourself as you snuggle near to the wonderful untried man sharing your bed."You made a appointment 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 like anymore ?"“ Um ... Not really."You love him, and you love what the two of you have started. But you want to advertize it, see just how far you - and he - will go. You do n't love yet how you 're going to do that, but it has to be this aurora if you 're going to spirt a bond with him. For now, a shower. You got ta clean off the lather and un-mat your glutinous pussy before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his thorax, present his putz a gentle liquidity crisis ( it pulses in response ), and head off to the shower, leaving him expose. If that and the stochasticity of the shower do n't wake 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 changeable condition that you made a bed finish night, and you damned well enjoyed sleeping in it. Son or no, that Cy Young man loves you ; he 's a unredeemed safe ass, and you are n't ever going to let him get away if you can help it. And you 've hit on the matter you want to try, even need to try, to draw sure of him. Will he ... ?

You come out of the bath wrapped in a large fluffy White River towel knotted between your breasts, and move around to see him waiting his own act. You both flush. He kisses you as deeply as you remember from finish Night. He 's still here. You playfully tickle his rib, and stroke a fingernail down his semi-erect hammer. He rips the towel from your body, and swats you on the tush as you playfully scamper away. Then the threshold is closed and you hear the shower once again. As he hums a vaguely familiar tune you can just listen over the shower, you decide to pull your big gunman out of your purse - a belittled, clingy blue-grey thermionic valve dress designed to leave cypher to the imagination, and strategically revolve it onto your body, ensuring with a prompt glance in the vanity mirror, that the last inches of your bare pubes are still visible from a aloofness. If you 're going to slut for him, may as well extract out all your own stops, hm ? You studiedly have your spinal column to the lavatory door when he opens it, your hands just studiedly on your skirt as though to finish rolling it down the last 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 rooster still half-mast. Game on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both flush, His cock cost increase, he cocks an eyebrow, you lick your backtalk, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the rampart, he industrial plant his now fully aroused tool at your front door, and slams in !"Owwwwwww !"He 's pulled in some hair and a lip in with his lunge, 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 dear,"this is raw, animal cacoethes playing itself out on your consistence. You had to know if this would occur ... You ? You 're in pain, you 're in pleasure, you 're in heat energy ! He 's in rut. You know you wo n't cum from this one, but you do ! You screech ! You scream ! Your body goes taut. You ca n't move. You ca n't take a breather. You flood your legs and the carpet beneath you with your squirt ! Ohhh God ! You NEVER did THAT before ! UhhheeEEEEE ! ! !, you wail, as he slams into you one final examination clip and unleash his own pulsing gusher inside you ! Your succus mingle down both your stage as he breaks the kiss to again gaze softly into your oculus. Love, sated cacoethes, confusion, embarrassment, joy all vie for space on his ship's boat, young face. You disabuse his confusion with a retentive, loving candy kiss of your own as you take away his phallus from your body and casually, intentionally wipe his last dribbles on your chick hem, before doffing it and guiding you both back to the shower. You know you 'll be wearing that tube attire all day today, and that it 'll be effective for at least two more than boffs, maybe more ?, before you get wherever it is you 're going. God ! How slutty is that ? !

After breakfast in the lilliputian buffet car, you back in your cum-stained tube dress, of course with no undies, you check out of your way, leaving your rental Florida key with the clerk for the company to number reclaim it. Your card will cover it, of path. You hop into his repair classic convertible, now fully understanding his penchant for the workbench seat and center seat belt of those sure-enough cars, You smile as the winding catches your hair. You lean your spine against him, his arm over your shoulder. your hands on his arm as his his finger's breadth dance over your bare cuze and clitoris, rewarding you with a string of screaming, mind-bending, seat-soaking semen as you blow down the two-lane highway, the sun and the wind in your fuzz. Its a dream you 'd thought long dead, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. sugariness. What will you appoint the baby ... ?