Stacy 's Dream
by Wistful

m/F, inc, cons, rom, insecure

Mom gets a indorsement hazard ...

1.

"Stacy martin ! ”, you again berate yourself in the deep recesses of your idea. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your union was your married man John, attractive in his way, loving after a manner, 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 panty, matching slick bra and black fishing net hosiery."darn ! If I do n't look like a lady of pleasure now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, silky 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 night, and to the next town some twenty land mile away. He 'd thought it well to get together in a position where neither of you were known. Reluctantly, quivering in prevision, you agreed."And damn it ! You 're still quivering ! Ca n't you see this is untimely ? ! Do n't you sleep together it goes against the church building and the law and even your marriage ?"You distinguish 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 radiation beckoning you to your meeting place, a quaint small cottage motel, just off the road, with a quiet restaurant and bar and convenient parking in the rear. Wheeling around the motel part, you see the doorway to the adjoining club in front of you. Stopping, setting the brake in your rental, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your fuzz in the mirror"Damn !, but you still look good at 36."Its your brand or break second."wellspring ...,"you say to yourself as you exit the car,"Its now or never,"and you stride forward on trembling legs, grasp the room access handle, and enter the club.

You blush, your intimation snatch, and you look to decamp back out as your entry is greeted by ululation, hungry wolf whistles, and various lewd and repugnant offers from the get-go half dozen cowman 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 knee, the other toe grazing the floor, you anxiously search the small sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he put up you up ? Is this a fucking antic ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an idea this really is, considering retuning home plate from all this foolishness, he rears his question from one of the promote pool tables, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the video of a rangy outdoors man in flannel, jeans and iron boot. Your gist stops when you see the spark in his eyes, his warm, wicked grin and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn hair. You mind a fog, your throb roar in your pinna, your breath coming in gasp, your eyes are only for him. You do n't even get wind the hoots of"Never Happen !"or"Not a jazz hazard in Hell !"from the cattleman dismissing his access to you. Nothing else issue. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides flop up between your ramification, buckle your head in his big hands, and gazes deeply into your eyes. Your sum stand, hurly burly ; your breathing space apprehension again and your jaw pearl as he catches your upper lip between his spit and his own upper berth lip, worries it a niggling, then bends to hand you the kiss you 'd only dreamed of. To the hoots and cheers, and a few"What ? !"of the local common people, he crushes you to his soundbox, pressing his jeans-covered arousal on your already cunt-soaked panties, and continues the rich, soul-wrenching candy kiss. A humble vox in the back of your mind try to warn that you 're only woolgather, but the forefront of your mind and marrow knows this is rattling. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very public place, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, saucy mo of it, shakes, shiver and all. When you both decide to come up for air, he again staring deeply into your eyes, the place is still, all eyes on the two of you. In an unaccustomed careen of panache, he cups a hand on your butt, pulling you from the chair, and with a half-dancing bend, points you both at the door. You do n't even hear the topical anaesthetic jester anymore. Your eyes only for him, his only for you ; your arms over his articulatio humeri, his hand still firmly cupping your tail, you slowly stride out of the place and head to the way he 's reserved for you. Another abstruse, 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 feeding bottle of afters wine chilling in a arena of ice on the pocket-sized cottage table beside two snifters. He 's pulling out all the stops, but you were pretty sure he would. It seems to be just his way.

2.

Not one to scourge the second, he again clasps you to his body, kisses your sass, your neck, your ears as he handily unties the behind-the neck knot of your sleeveless red hangman's halter, and peels it down below your melanise satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your articulatio humeri and chest, to the very top of your cleavage as he does. Then, stroking your back and berm with one helping hand, he traces down your position to the zipper of your black micro-skirt, and in one svelte motion, the wench is suddenly at your mortise joint. Then, raising your weapon system, holding both your hands in one of his, he brings your halter back up over your bosom, over your head, and off your soundbox 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, panties, garters, hose and heels."God ! ”, you tell yourself."I 'm a fucking tramp on display."But he steps forward and wipes that image from your idea with another earth-shattering kiss, his finger's breadth stroking your rear, his hands cupping and gently squeezing your butt, and then his mouth on your cervix. Your juice are flowing steadily now, and the room reeks of feminine sex, a heady fragrance the does n't escape him, as you see by his flushed boldness, his renewed fervidness and stimulation. Momentarily syncope, you flush and back up against the paries. He does n't miss it. Before catch your next intimation, 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 fingerbreadth over your back talk as he traces your hip provenance and panty waistband with his other bridge player. Does he bear adequate hands for all he 's doing ? You 're ecstatic, your torso shiver, your intimation is gasps, you 're flushed and warm from your eyebrow to your nipples, your kitty is a flowing spigot. You thought you cognise what making love was about, but you 're through the roof now, and he has n't even started yet. Its torturing. You want to say so, but you dare not. You might deflower the moment.

You 're on your rear. He sidles up next to you on his side, tracing your face, neck and pep pill soundbox with supply ship, wispy fingertips. Somewhere, he seems to have lost his shirt. You return the favor, trailing your sculpted nails over his tight, hairless chest. When he absently, nimbly slips a finger's breadth under your panty logical argument, 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 organic structure trembles, your tummy flexes, and your ever-flowing juices change their fragrance to that of a fair sex who wants a cock NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your headway for another smothering kiss as he undoes the clench on the social movement of your bra, letting the loving cup fall aside to queer your ripened globes and blood-stiffened aroused mamilla. He smoothly moves to cover the nigh teat with his mouth while his absolve hand caresses your other. You continue to flow and flex."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your mind shrieks one last time, but your body is putty in his hands, and he 's gently sculpting a fan out of you. As he continues licking and sucking your teat, his open fingerbreadth trace from your breast, down your tummy, to your panty top. Your soundbox 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 encounter. Somewhere in your love-lust haze, your panties, hose and dog have vanished, along with his flush and jeans. He lies next to you, you turn to him, naked trunk to naked organic structure, as it should be, and devolve the caresses he gives you with buss and caresses of your own. You 're in Heaven, he 's God, and your eubstance yet sizzles and spasms to his spot. You 're incapacitated in his bridge player. He kisses your mouth, he nibbles your chin and cervix, he traces his lingua and fingertips over your breasts, he traces the bony ridgepole that is your pelvic girdle, until his mouth and both paw arrive at your aching, swollen pussy. You 're stunned beyond belief at what he does adjacent : the lover 's kiss he gives your pulsing mound 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 of your impatient love juices. God ! If only we could suffer done this sooner ! But ...

When he senses your impatience, he rises over you, gazes deeply into your eyes, and mounts you, giving you his total duration in one excruciatingly dumb, agonizing stroke, and comes to rest on your eubstance. His weight unit is a comfort, his arms engulf you, his manhood fill you, and his ragged breather in your ear gun trigger another undulation of pleasure throughout your consistency. You 've opened the door. He 's come home.

His midst cock pistoning in and out of you sends to a greater extent moving ridge of current through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your nous. You stroke his hair. Thinking of you, he shifts your positioning, pulling out of you as he does. Your mettle stops. You feel an urgent sensory faculty of loss until he has you on your incline, he behind you, and you grasp his cock to impart 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 persistence, you 're on a swarm. You 've never made lovemaking like this, but Damned if it is n't groovy ! As you tense, he grabs your pelvis and clout you tighter to him, giving you all he can reach, and you cum again ... and again ... and again. He brings the real woman 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 fourth dimension, but not now ...

His movements more erratic, his pecker thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your self-aggrandising mo of decision yet. And he helps you make that determination as he again pulls out, lays you on your back, and again climb you. His pace acceleration, his force deeper, his typeface and neck opening musculus red and taut from holding back, his look at you is all the query he needs. Your body glowing, sated, your creative thinker returning, but taking a spinal column butt to your pump, in a flash you ask yourself"Do you love him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your office to pay him ?"“ No !"“ Are you unforced to have his babe ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your centre on his gaze, nod your ascent, and you reach for his fag and commit him deeper into you. His breathing space explodes, his body tremble, he bottoms-out in you and lets go. You feel the cryptical spasming pounding of his peter as he releases wave upon wave, thick, powerful spurts of of his own dear juices inside you. You cuddle him, you kiss anything you can get hold of, you whisper endearments in his ear, as you wait for his throbbing Passion of Christ to wane. What a bonk 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 hustle off you, you roll with him until you 're back mouth to talk, eubstance to body, sharing the glow of satisfaction. You trace his ear, he traces the nape of your neck. As you lie on the pillow facing him, you make one more decision. You douse the bedside light and extract the covert over you both. As you 're being taken by the ghost of sleep to come, you hear the only real words spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the early riser, you awaken with a disorientate starting, your sleeping accommodation is unlike, the olfactory sensation are different - oh ... Oh !"Shit, missy ! You really went and did it, did n't you ?, you mildly reproach yourself as you snuggle closer to the wonderful Whitney Young man sharing your bed."You made a day of the month with your own son, let him FUCK you, and even let him CUM interior YOU ! Gawds ! You can still sense 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 advertise 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 hamper with him. For now, a shower. You got ta plumb off the fret and un-mat your sticky pussy before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his chest, give his cock a gentle squeeze ( it pulses in reception ), and head off to the exhibitioner, leaving him uncovered. If that and the interference of the shower do n't arouse him, you 'll at to the lowest degree be treated to a juicy deal when you come back out.

In the exhibitor, you tell yourself in no uncertain footing that you made a bed survive night, and you damned well enjoyed sleeping in it. Son or no, that Edward Young man loves you ; he 's a blessed dependable fuck, and you are n't ever going to let him get away if you can help it. And you 've hit on the thing you want to try, even need to try, to make sure of him. Will he ... ?

You come out of the bath wrapped in a large fluffy white towel knotted between your breasts, and turn to see him waiting his own bit. You both flush. He kisses you as deeply as you remember from last Night. He 's still here. You playfully tickle his ribs, and stroke a fingernail down his semi-erect prick. He rips the towel from your consistence, and swats you on the tush as you playfully scamper away. Then the door is closed and you hear the shower down once again. As he hums a vaguely fellow tune you can just hear over the shower, you decide to pull your big guns out of your purse - a small, clingy blue-gray tube dress designed to leave naught to the imagination, and strategically wind it onto your organic structure, ensuring with a quick coup d'oeil in the vanity mirror, that the last column inch of your bare os pubis are still visible from a length. If you 're going to slut for him, may as well tear out all your own blockage, hm ? You studiedly have your back to the bathroom doorway when he opens it, your hands just studiedly on your skirt as though to finish rolling it down the last few in when you turn to see him - just as you 'd hoped, naked save for the towel he 's running through he hair his cock still half-staff. stake on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both flush, His tool cost increase, he cocks an eyebrow, you lick your lips, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the rampart, he plants his now fully aroused cock at your nominal head 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 love,"this is raw, animal warmth playing itself out on your eubstance. You had to know if this would happen ... You ? You 're in painful sensation, you 're in pleasure, 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 torso goes taut. You ca n't move. You ca n't breathe. You flood your legs and the rug beneath you with your squirt ! Ohhh God ! You NEVER did THAT before ! UhhheeEEEEE ! ! !, you wail, as he slams into you one final exam prison term and unleashes his own pulse gusher inside you ! Your juice mingle down both your leg as he breaks the kiss to again gaze softly into your optic. Love, sated love, disarray, overplus, joy all vie for infinite on his tender, Cy Young grimace. You disabuse his discombobulation with a yearn, loving osculation of your own as you remove his member from your body and casually, intentionally wipe his finale slobber on your skirt hem, before doffing it and guiding you both back to the shower. You know you 'll be wearing that electron tube dress all day today, and that it 'll be respectable 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 lilliputian dining compartment, you back in your cum-stained thermionic vacuum tube dress, of course with no undies, you check out of your elbow room, leaving your rental key with the shop clerk for the company to come reclaim it. Your board will traverse it, of course. You hop into his restored classic convertible, now fully understanding his penchant for the terrace seat and heart and soul seatbelt of those older gondola, You smile as the wind catches your whisker. You lean your back against him, his arm over your shoulder. your hands on his arm as his his digit dance over your bare cuze and clit, rewarding you with a string of screaming, mind-blowing, seat-soaking semen as you blow down the two-lane main road, the sun and the breaking wind in your pilus. Its a dream you 'd thought long dead, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. afters. What will you name the infant ... ?