Stacy 's Dream
by Wistful

m/F, inc, cons, rom, unsafe

Mom gets a second base chance ...

1.

"Stacy Martin ! ”, you again have words yourself in the deep recesses of your mind. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your marriage ceremony was your husband 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 panties, matching satiny bra and inkiness fishnet hosiery."tinker's dam ! If I do n't await like a cocotte now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, silklike flavor 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 succeeding townspeople some twenty miles away. He 'd thought it honest to meet in a place 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 church and the law and even your union ?"You recite yourself you know all this, and you tightly grip the wheel, yet you drive on, no mentation of turning back, until you see the roadside lights beckoning you to your meeting place, a quaint little bungalow motel, just off the road, with a quiet eating place and bar and convenient parking in the can. Wheeling around the motel role, you see the door to the adjoining club in front of you. Stopping, setting the Pteridium aquilinum in your rental, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your tomentum in the mirror"tinker's dam !, but you still look adept at 36."Its your brand or better mo."wellspring ...,"you say to yourself as you exit the car,"Its now or never,"and you stride forward on trembling pegleg, grasp the door handle, and enter the club.

You blush, your breath catches, and you look to bolt back out as your introduction is greeted by howls, hungry wolf whistles, and several lewd and lewd offering from the first off 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 table, settle yourself in with one slender, heeled leg bent at the knee joint, the early toe grazing the flooring, you anxiously search the small sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he stomach you up ? Is this a fucking trick ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an idea this really is, considering retuning home from all this foolishness, he rears his head from one of the boost kitty mesa, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the picture of a gangling outdoors man in washcloth, jean and thrill. Your heart stops when you see the light in his oculus, his warm, wicked smile and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn hair. You mind a fog, your pulse thunder in your ears, your breathing time coming in gasps, your eyes are only for him. You do n't even hear the hoots of"Never Happen !"or"Not a fucking chance in Hades !"from the cowpuncher dismissing his feeler to you. Nothing else matters. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides right up between your legs, brooch your headland in his big work force, and gazes deeply into your optic. Your heart stalling, flutter ; your breathing spell match again and your jaw drops as he catches your upper lip between his tongue and his own upper lip, worries it a little, then bends to fall in you the kiss you 'd only dreamed of. To the hoots and cheer, and a few"What ? !"of the local folk, he crushes you to his body, pressing his jeans-covered arousal on your already cunt-soaked panties, and continues the inscrutable, soul-wrenching kiss. A modest voice in the back of your mind tries to warn that you 're only dreaming, but the forefront of your judgement and heart knows this is real. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very public plaza, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, saucy minute of it, shakes, trembles and all. When you both decide to come up for air, he again staring deeply into your eyes, the blank space is silent, all optic on the two of you. In an unaccustomed sway of dash, he cups a mitt on your butt, pulling you from the president, and with a half-dancing twist, peak you both at the room access. You do n't even find out the local fools anymore. Your oculus only for him, his only for you ; your limb over his berm, his manus still firmly cupping your backside, you slowly stride out of the position and head to the room he 's reserved for you. Another deep, body-shuddering buss at the front room access, and you 're in the room. You do n't know how or when. You 're simply there. The sparkle are already dimmed, the sheets are turned back, and there 's a bottle of sweet wine temperature reduction in a bowl of ice on the small cottage mesa beside two snifter. He 's pulling out all the stops, but you were pretty sure enough he would. It seems to be just his way.

2.

Not one to waste the moment, he again clasps you to his soundbox, kisses your sassing, your neck opening, your ears as he handily unties the behind-the cervix slub of your sleeveless red hempen necktie, and peels it down below your black satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your articulatio humeri and chest, to the very top of your segmentation as he does. Then, stroking your back and shoulders with one script, he traces down your incline to the zipper of your Shirley Temple micro-skirt, and in one svelte motility, the skirt is suddenly at your ankles. Then, raising your arms, holding both your hired hand in one of his, he brings your hempen necktie back up over your tit, over your head, and off your physical structure as you daintily step out of your annulus. He steps back momentarily to aim you in. You shiver slightly as you realize you 're standing in social movement of him in only your bra, scanty, garters, hosepipe and heels."God ! ”, you tell yourself."I 'm a piece of tail tramp on display."But he steps forward and wipes that range of a function from your persuasion with another earth-shattering osculation, his fingers stroking your back, his hands cupping and gently squeezing your tush, and then his mouth on your cervix. Your juices are flowing steadily now, and the room reeks of feminine sex, a heady odour the does n't scarper him, as you see by his rosy aspect, his renewed ardor and arousal. Momentarily swoon, you flush and back up against the wall. He does n't overlook it. Before catch your next breath, he 's easily picked you up, carried you the few steps, and gently laid you on the bed.

You start to speak, but he gingerly traces a finger over your backtalk as he traces your hip birthplace and panty waistband with his former hand. Does he have enough hands for all he 's doing ? You 're ecstatic, your consistence trembles, your breath is gasps, you 're flushed and warm from your supercilium to your nipples, your pussy is a flowing spigot. You thought you knew what making love was about, but you 're through the roof now, and he has n't even started yet. Its torture. You want to say so, but you dare not. You might deflower the moment.

You 're on your backrest. He sidles up next to you on his English, tracing your face, cervix and amphetamine body with attender, wisplike fingertips. Somewhere, he seems to have lost his shirt. You return the party favour, trailing your sculpted nails over his tight, hairless chest. When he absently, nimbly slips a finger under your panty line, Oh My God ! You cum ! He has n't even got your panties off, and you 're cuming like an woolly-headed schoolgirl ! Not the rip-roaring, screaming, squirting affair ; your dead body trembles, your stomach flexes, and your ever-flowing juices change their odor to that of a adult female who wants a cock NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your head for another smothering kiss as he undoes the clutch on the nominal head of your bra, letting the loving cup fall aside to let on your ripened ball and blood-stiffened sex nipples. He smoothly moves to cover the near teat with his mouth while his complimentary hand caresses your former. You continue to flux and twist."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your brain shrieks one last sentence, but your eubstance is putty in his hands, and he 's gently sculpting a fan out of you. As he continues licking and sucking your nipple, his undefended fingers trace from your breast, down your tummy, to your panty top. Your body is already tight, lifted by your dog, to help him doff them for you. You no longer retrieve straight. No longer worried about about what 's happening, you let it hap. Somewhere in your love-lust haze, your scanty, hose and blackguard have vanished, along with his charge and dungaree. He lies following to you, you turn to him, naked trunk to naked organic structure, 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 body yet sizzles and spasms to his touch. You 're lost in his mitt. He kisses your mouth, he nibbles your chin and neck, he traces his tongue and fingertips over your breasts, he traces the bony rooftree that is your pelvic girdle, until his mouth and both workforce arrive at your ache, swollen pussy. You 're stunned beyond notion at what he does adjacent : the lover 's kiss he gives your pulsation hill is the kiss you only wish your husband gave your mouth ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with more than of your impatient love succus. God ! If only we could have done this Oklahoman ! But ...

When he senses your restlessness, he rises over you, stare deeply into your oculus, and mounts you, giving you his broad length in one excruciatingly dumb, agonizing stroke, and comes to rest on your consistence. His weight is a quilt, his arms engulf you, his humanness fills you, and his bedevil breath in your ear trigger another wave of pleasure throughout your body. You 've opened the door. He 's come home.

His thick cock pistoning in and out of you sends more Wave of current through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your top dog. You stroke his tomentum. thinking of you, he shifts your locating, pulling out of you as he does. Your heart Newmarket. You feel an urgent sense of expiration 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 breasts, your head on his, his manhood moving inside you with rhythmical perseveration, you 're on a cloud. You 've never made making love like this, but Damned if it is n't great ! As you tense, he grabs your hips and wrench you tighter to him, giving you all he can reach, and you cum again ... and again ... and again. He brings the actual fair sex out of you so easily, so often, that you wonder in some vague way where he learned to do that. You might even dare to ask him some prison term, but not now ...

His movements more quicksilver, his cock thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your bragging moment of conclusion yet. And he helps you make that decisiveness as he again pulls out, lays you on your dorsum, and again saddle horse you. His footstep speedup, his thrust deeper, his case and neck opening muscle red and tight from holding back, his spirit at you is all the question he needs. Your body glow, sated, your mind returning, but taking a plump for seat to your heart, in a newsflash you ask yourself"Do you get it on him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your great power to give him ?"“ No !"“ Are you leave to have his babe ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your eyes on his gaze, nod your raise, and you reach for his can and pull him deeper into you. His breath explodes, his body trembles, he bottoms-out in you and lets go. You feel the deep spasming throb of his cock as he releases wave upon wave, buddy-buddy, powerful squirt of of his own love juices inside you. You cuddle him, you kiss anything you can extend to, you whisper endearments in his ear, as you wait for his throbbing passion to wane. What a shtup 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 wander off you, you roll with him until you 're back mouth to mouth, body to body, sharing the glow of satisfaction. You trace his ear, he traces the nape of your cervix. As you lie on the pillow facing him, you make one Thomas More decisiveness. You douse the bedside light and pull the covers over you both. As you 're being taken by the ghost of sopor to amount, you hear the only real words spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the early riser, you awaken with a alienated start, your bedroom is different, the smells are different - oh ... Oh !"Shit, daughter ! You really went and did it, did n't you ?, you mildly reproach yourself as you snuggle tight to the wonderful young man sharing your bed."You made a 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 significant ? 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 force it, see just how far you - and he - will go. You do n't jazz yet how you 're going to do that, but it has to be this dayspring if you 're going to spirt a adherence with him. For now, a shower. You got ta strip off the sweat and un-mat your sticky twat before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his thorax, give his stopcock a gentle squeeze ( it pulses in response ), and head off to the shower, leaving him uncovered. If that and the noise of the shower bath do n't wake him, you 'll at to the lowest degree be treated to a luscious muckle when you come back out.

In the shower, you tell yourself in no changeable terms that you made a bed last Night, and you damned well love sleeping in it. Son or no, that young man loves you ; he 's a damned good shag, and you are n't ever going to let him get away if you can assist it. And you 've hit on the matter you want to try, even need to try, to cause for sure of him. Will he ... ?

You come out of the bath wrapped in a large downy white towel knotted between your breasts, and grow to see him waiting his own turn. You both flush. He kisses you as deeply as you remember from last night. He 's still here. You playfully vellicate his rib, and stroke a fingernail down his semi-erect hammer. He rips the towel from your organic structure, and swats you on the tush as you playfully scamper away. Then the doorway is closed and you hear the lavish once again. As he hums a vaguely fellow tune you can just take heed over the shower, you decide to pull your big guns out of your purse - a belittled, clingy blue-gray tube dress designed to impart nothing to the imagination, and strategically wave it onto your body, ensuring with a quick glance in the dressing table mirror, that the in conclusion inches of your bare os pubis are still visible from a aloofness. If you 're going to slut for him, may as well pull out all your own stops, hm ? You studiedly have your back to the toilet door when he opens it, your hands just studiedly on your skirt as though to fetch up rolling it down the terminal 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 shaft still half-mast. Game on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both flush, His cock rises, he cocks an eyebrow, you lick your lips, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the wall, he industrial plant his now fully aroused cock at your front room access, 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 love,"this is raw, carnal rage playing itself out on your trunk. You had to know if this would happen ... 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 soundbox goes taut. You ca n't move. You ca n't suspire. You flood your stage and the carpet beneath you with your spurt ! Ohhh God ! You NEVER did THAT before ! UhhheeEEEEE ! ! !, you wail, as he slams into you one final exam prison term and unleashes his own pulsing gusher inside you ! Your juices mingle down both your legs as he breaks the osculation to again gaze softly into your eye. Love, sated passion, confusedness, embarrassment, joy all vie for outer space on his attendant, young side. You disabuse his discombobulation with a prospicient, loving kiss of your own as you remove his penis from your consistency 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 dress all day today, and that it 'll be good for at least two to a greater extent boffs, maybe more ?, before you get wherever it is you 're going. God ! How slutty is that ? !

After breakfast in the tiny dining compartment, you back in your cum-stained tube dress, of course with no undies, you check out of your way, leaving your lease keys with the clerk for the company to come reclaim it. Your board will cover it, of course. You hop into his bushel classic convertible, now fully understanding his taste for the work bench seat and center seat belt of those older automobile, You smile as the jazz catches your hair's-breadth. You lean your back against him, his arm over your articulatio humeri. your hands on his arm as his his fingers dance over your bare cuze and clitoris, rewarding you with a string of screaming, mind-blowing, seat-soaking seminal fluid as you blow down the two-lane highway, the sun and the wind in your hair. Its a dream you 'd thought long dead, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. Sweet. What will you cite the infant ... ?