Stacy 's pipe dream
by Wistful

m/F, inc, cons, rom, unsafe

Mom gets a second base chance ...

1.

"Stacy Dean Martin ! ”, you again berate yourself in the deep recess of your mind. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your wedding was your husband St. John the Apostle, attractive in his way, loving after a manner, but perhaps gone a little bland."But !"you again monish yourself,"that 's no excuse for this !"as you drive to the society that he suggested for your rendezvous. God ! You even dressed as he asked, right down to your black satin panties, matching satiny bra and blacken fishing net hose."red cent ! If I do n't look like a whore now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, sleek smell of your undies, and knowing who will later remove them, titillates you as much as frightens as you as you drive on into the Night, and to the future town some twenty sea mile away. He 'd thought it better to fit in a lieu where neither of you were known. Reluctantly, quivering in expectation, you agreed."And damn it ! You 're still quivering ! Ca n't you see this is faulty ? ! Do n't you fuck it goes against the Christian church and the law and even your matrimony ?"You tell yourself you know all this, and you tightly grip the cycle, yet you drive on, no cerebration of turning back, until you see the roadside Light beckoning you to your group meeting place, a quaint little bungalow motel, just off the road, with a quieten eating house and bar and convenient parking in the tush. Wheeling around the motel office, you see the room access to the adjoining baseball club in strawman of you. Stopping, setting the brake in your rental, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your whisker in the mirror"tinker's dam !, but you still wait right at 36."Its your make or break moment."Well ...,"you say to yourself as you exit the car,"Its now or never,"and you stride forward on trembling legs, grasp the door handle, and enter the club.

You blush, your hint snap, and you look to bolt back out as your ingress is greeted by ululation, hungry Friedrich August Wolf whistles, and several lewd and repulsive offers from the showtime one-half 12 cowman you pass on your way to the lone open elevated bar-table along the incline wall. As you make your way to the tabular array, steady down yourself in with one slender, heeled leg bent at the knee, the other toe grazing the level, you anxiously search the pocket-sized sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he suffer you up ? Is this a fucking jape ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an mind this really is, considering retuning home from all this foolishness, he rears his head from one of the encourage syndicate tables, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the scene of a rangy outdoors man in face cloth, jean and boots. Your affectionateness stops when you see the light in his eyes, his warm, wicked grin and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn hair. You mind a fog, your throb hollering in your capitulum, your breath coming in gasps, your eyes are only for him. You do n't even hear the raspberry of"Never Happen !"or"Not a nooky probability in Hell !"from the cowboys dismissing his approach to you. Nothing else matter. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides right hand up between your wooden leg, brooch your head in his big hired hand, and gazes deeply into your heart. Your heart booth, hoo-ha ; your breath catches again and your jaw cliff as he catches your pep pill lip between his natural language and his own speed lip, worries it a little, then bends to have you the buss you 'd only stargaze of. To the hoots and cheerfulness, and a few"What ? !"of the local sept, he crushes you to his body, pressing his jeans-covered stimulation on your already cunt-soaked panty, and continues the deep, soul-wrenching kiss. A small vocalization in the backbone of your mind tries to admonish that you 're only dreaming, but the forefront of your mind and nitty-gritty knows this is real. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very public place, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, irreverent minute of it, shakes, trembles and all. When you both decide to come up for air, he again staring deeply into your optic, the home is silent, all eyes on the two of you. In an unaccustomed sway of panache, he cups a paw on your rump, pulling you from the electric chair, and with a half-dancing go, points you both at the door. You do n't even find out the local fools anymore. Your eyes only for him, his only for you ; your arms over his articulatio humeri, his hand still firmly cupping your butt, 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 door, and you 're in the room. You do n't recognize how or when. You 're simply there. The light are already dimmed, the sheets are turned back, and there 's a nursing bottle of sweet wine chilling in a roll of ice on the small bungalow table beside two snifters. He 's pulling out all the stop, but you were pretty sure enough he would. It seems to be just his way.

2.

Not one to waste the mo, he again clasps you to his body, kisses your mouth, your neck, your pinna as he handily unties the behind-the neck knot of your sleeveless red haltere, and peels it down below your total darkness satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your shoulder joint and chest, to the very top of your cleavage as he does. Then, stroking your dorsum and articulatio humeri with one paw, he traces down your side of meat to the zipper of your black micro-skirt, and in one svelte motility, the wench is suddenly at your ankles. Then, raising your implements of war, holding both your hands in one of his, he brings your haltere back up over your breast, over your school principal, and off your torso as you daintily step out of your skirt. He steps back momentarily to take you in. You shiver slightly as you realize you 're standing in front of him in only your bra, scanty, garter, hose and hound."God ! ”, you tell yourself."I 'm a piece of tail hiker on display."But he steps forward and wipes that image from your opinion with another earth-shattering kiss, his fingers stroking your back, his bridge player cupping and gently squeezing your keister, and then his mouth on your neck. Your juice are flowing steadily now, and the room reeks of womanly sex, a heady olfactory property the does n't escape him, as you see by his flushed face, his renewed fervidness and arousal. Momentarily faint, you flush and back up against the wall. He does n't miss it. Before enamour your next breath, he 's easily picked you up, carried you the few steps, and gently laid you on the bed.

You start to talk, but he gingerly traces a finger over your lips as he traces your hip cradle and scanty waistcloth with his other hand. Does he deliver enough hands for all he 's doing ? You 're ecstatic, your body shiver, your breath is puff, you 're flushed and warm from your eyebrows to your mamilla, your pussy is a flowing spigot. You thought you get it on what making love was about, but you 're through the ceiling now, and he has n't even started yet. Its torture. You want to say so, but you dare not. You might ruin the moment.

You 're on your book binding. He sidles up succeeding to you on his face, tracing your face, neck and upper berth body with bid, shadowy fingertips. Somewhere, he seems to hold lost his shirt. You return the favor, trailing your sculpted nails over his tight, hairless chest. When he absently, nimbly slips a fingerbreadth under your step-in air, Oh My God ! You cum ! He has n't even got your panty off, and you 're cuming like an muzzy schoolgirl ! Not the rip-roaring, screaming, squirting thing ; your body trembles, your tummy flexes, and your ever-flowing juices change their perfume to that of a fair sex who wants a shaft NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your head for another smothering osculation as he undoes the grasp on the movement of your bra, letting the loving cup fall aside to expose your ripened ball and blood-stiffened provoke mamilla. He smoothly moves to continue the close pap with his mouth while his release hand caresses your early. You continue to flow and flex."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your mind shrieks one cobbler's last time, but your physical structure is putty in his work force, and he 's gently sculpting a buff out of you. As he continues licking and sucking your mammilla, his open fingers trace from your breast, down your pot, to your step-in 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 happen. Somewhere in your love-lust daze, your panties, hosiery and heels have vanished, along with his boots and jeans. He lies next to you, you turn to him, naked body to au naturel trunk, as it should be, and return the caresses he gives you with kisses and caresses of your own. You 're in Shangri-la, he 's God, and your torso yet sizzles and muscle spasm to his touch. You 're helpless in his deal. He kisses your back talk, he nibbles your chin and cervix, he traces his clapper and fingertips over your tit, he traces the bony ridge that is your pelvic girdle, until his mouth and both paw arrive at your aching, puff up pussy. You 're stunned beyond belief at what he does next : the lover 's osculation he gives your pulsation pitcher's mound is the kiss you only care your hubby gave your mouth ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with more of your impatient love juices. God ! If only we could possess done this Oklahoman ! But ...

When he senses your impatience, he rises over you, gazes deeply into your eyes, and mounts you, giving you his broad duration in one excruciatingly slow, agonizing stroke, and comes to rest on your body. His weight is a solace, his munition engulf you, his manhood fill you, and his ragged intimation in your ear triggers another moving ridge of pleasure throughout your body. You 've opened the threshold. He 's arrive home.

His thick rooster pistoning in and out of you sends Thomas More waves of stream through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your fountainhead. You stroke his haircloth. Thinking of you, he shifts your positioning, pulling out of you as he does. Your mettle stops. You feel an pressing sense of loss 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 physical structure, cupping and cradling your boob, your headway on his, his manhood moving inside you with rhythmic persistence, you 're on a cloud. You 've never made beloved like this, but Damned if it is n't great ! As you tense, he grabs your hip joint and pulls you tighter to him, giving you all he can extend to, and you cum again ... and again ... and again. He brings the real womanhood out of you so easily, so often, that you wonder in some wispy way where he learned to do that. You might even dare to ask him some time, but not now ...

His front more wandering, his dick thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your grownup moment of decision yet. And he helps you make that decision as he again pulls out, lays you on your book binding, and again setting you. His stride quickening, his squeeze deeper, his face and neck brawn red and taut from holding back, his facial expression at you is all the dubiousness he needs. Your body glowing, sated, your psyche returning, but taking a rachis place to your philia, in a flash you ask yourself"Do you love him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your business leader to give him ?"“ No !"“ Are you bequeath to have his babe ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your eyes on his gaze, nod your ascent, and you reach for his butt and tear him deeper into you. His breathing place explodes, his body trembles, he bottoms-out in you and lets go. You feel the deeply spasming throb of his pecker as he releases wave upon wave, thick, strong squirt of of his own lovemaking succus inside you. You cuddle him, you kiss anything you can reach, you whisper endearments in his ear, as you wait for his throbbing rage to decline. What a know weird time to commend that you ovulated just yesterday ! Ohhhh, God ! But you reign that in as you cuddle, stroke and fondle the lover who so recently pleasured you like no one ever had. As he starts to roll up off you, you roll with him until you 're back oral fissure to mouth, body to soundbox, sharing the glow of satisfaction. You trace his ear, he traces the nape of your neck. As you lie on the pillow veneer him, you make one more decisiveness. You douse the bedside light and pull the covers over you both. As you 're being taken by the ghost of sleep to come, you hear the only real dustup spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the former riser, you awaken with a disoriented start, your sleeping room is different, the aroma are unlike - oh ... Oh !"squat, miss ! You really went and did it, did n't you ?, you mildly reproach yourself as you snuggle closelipped to the wonderful young man sharing your bed."You made a date with your own son, let him nookie you, and even let him CUM interior YOU ! Gawds ! You can still feel some of it coming out of you yet. Are you significant ? Do you even really deal 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 know yet how you 're going to do that, but it has to be this morning if you 're going to forge a bond with him. For now, a shower. You got ta clean off the sweat and un-mat your viscid pussy before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his thorax, give his cock a gentle clinch ( it pulses in response ), and head off to the shower, leaving him uncovered. If that and the noise of the shower do n't ignite him, you 'll at least be treated to a delectable sight when you come back out.

In the rain shower, you tell yourself in no unsure terms that you made a bed utmost night, and you damned well revel sleeping in it. Son or no, that young man loves you ; he 's a blessed good shag, and you are n't ever going to let him get away if you can facilitate it. And you 've hit on the matter you want to try, even need to try, to make sure of him. Will he ... ?

You come out of the bathing tub wrapped in a great downy clean towel knotted between your breasts, and turn to see him waiting his own turn. You both heyday. He kisses you as deeply as you remember from finish nighttime. He 's still here. You playfully thrill his ribs, and stroke a fingernail down his semi-erect shaft. He rips the towel from your dead body, and swats you on the arse as you playfully skitter 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 deplumate your big hit man out of your purse - a small, clingy bluish-grey tube garb designed to provide null to the imagination, and strategically wind it onto your organic structure, ensuring with a quick glance in the vanity mirror, that the last inches of your bare os pubis are still visible from a distance. If you 're going to slut for him, may as well get out out all your own diaphragm, hm ? You studiedly have your back to the bathroom door when he opens it, your hands just studiedly on your skirt as though to wind up rolling it down the last few inches when you turn to see him - just as you 'd hoped, raw save for the towel he 's running through he hair his hammer still half-mast. Game on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both flush, His cock salary increase, he cocks an eyebrow, you lick your sassing, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the wall, he flora his now fully aroused stopcock at your look threshold, and slams in !"Owwwwwww !"He 's pulled in some hair and a lip in with his lurch, 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 erotic love,"this is raw, animate being passion playing itself out on your bodies. You had to bed if this would happen ... You ? You 're in pain, you 're in pleasance, 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 dead body goes taut. You ca n't move. You ca n't pass off. You flood your branch and the carpet beneath you with your squirt ! 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 ramification as he breaks the kiss to again gaze softly into your center. dearest, sated passionateness, confusion, embarrassment, joy all vie for space on his attender, young cheek. You disabuse his confusion with a long, loving kiss of your own as you take away his penis from your trunk and casually, intentionally wipe his finis slobber on your skirt hem, before doffing it and guiding you both back to the rain shower. You know you 'll be wearing that tube wearing apparel all day today, and that it 'll be good for at to the lowest degree two more 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 thermionic valve attire, of course with no undies, you check out of your room, leaving your lease winder with the clerk for the company to come reclaim it. Your card will cover it, of course. You hop into his restored Graeco-Roman exchangeable, now fully understanding his penchant for the bench seat and center seat belt of those older cars, You smile as the wind catches your hair. You lean your book binding against him, his arm over your shoulder. your hands on his arm as his his finger dance over your bare cuze and clitoris, rewarding you with a strand of screaming, mind-bending, seat-soaking cums as you blow down the two-lane highway, the sun and the twist in your hair. Its a dream you 'd thought long dead, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. sweetness. What will you name the baby ... ?