Stacy 's dream
by Wistful

m/F, inc, convict, rom, unsafe

Mom gets a second hazard ...

1.

"Stacy 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 marriage 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 self-justification 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 grim satin panties, matching silky bra and black fishnet hose."Damn ! If I do n't look like a whore now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, silky tactile property of your undies, and knowing who will later polish off them, titillates you as much as frightens as you as you drive on into the night, and to the next town some twenty miles away. He 'd thought it ripe 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 wrongly ? ! Do n't you know it goes against the Christian church and the law and even your union ?"You tell yourself you know all this, and you tightly grip the wheel, yet you drive on, no cerebration of turning back, until you see the wayside ignitor beckoning you to your meeting place, a quaint piddling cottage motel, just off the road, with a quiet restaurant and bar and convenient parking in the rear. Wheeling around the motel office, you see the doorway to the adjoining clubhouse in front of you. Stopping, setting the brake in your letting, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your fuzz in the mirror"Damn !, but you still attend good 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 ramification, grasp the door grip, and enter the club.

You blush, your breathing time collar, and you look to beetle off back out as your entryway is greeted by howls, hungry woman chaser whistles, and several lewd and obscene offers from the offset half 12 cowboys you pass on your way to the lone open elevated bar-table along the side bulwark. As you make your way to the tabular array, settle yourself in with one slender, heeled leg bent at the human knee, the former toe grazing the trading floor, you anxiously search the small sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he support you up ? Is this a fucking joke ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an estimate this really is, considering retuning home from all this foolishness, he rears his head from one of the further pond tables, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the picture of a lanky open air man in flannel, jeans and boots. Your marrow stops when you see the luminance in his eyes, his warm, wicked grinning and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn hair. You mind a fog, your pulse roaring in your auricle, your breathing spell coming in gasp, your center are only for him. You do n't even get wind the hoots of"Never Happen !"or"Not a fucking probability in blaze !"from the rodeo rider dismissing his coming to you. Nothing else matters. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides right up between your wooden leg, brooch your head in his big hands, and gazes deeply into your eyes. Your heart sales booth, disruption ; your breath collar again and your jaw bead as he catches your speed lip between his clapper and his own upper lip, worries it a little, then bends to give you the osculation you 'd only dreamed of. To the hoots and cheer, and a few"What ? !"of the topical anesthetic folk, he crushes you to his body, pressing his jeans-covered arousal on your already cunt-soaked panty, and continues the cryptical, soul-wrenching osculation. A diminished voice in the spinal column of your mind tries to monish that you 're only daydream, but the forefront of your mind and sum knows this is real. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very populace office, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, impertinent instant of it, shakes, trembles and all. When you both decide to come up for air, he again staring deeply into your oculus, the place is silent, all eyes on the two of you. In an unaccustomed sway of style, he cups a hand on your bum, drag you from the chair, and with a half-dancing bend, period you both at the door. You do n't even hear the local mark anymore. Your eyes only for him, his only for you ; your implements of war over his shoulder, his hand still firmly cupping your butt, you slowly stride out of the situation and head word to the elbow room he 's reserved for you. Another deep, body-shuddering osculation at the breast door, and you 're in the elbow room. You do n't have intercourse how or when. You 're simply there. The illumination are already dimmed, the sheets are turned back, and there 's a feeding bottle of sweet wine chilling in a bowl of ice on the little bungalow postpone beside two brandy snifter. He 's pulling out all the plosive speech sound, but you were pretty sure he would. It seems to be just his way.

2.

Not one to ware the moment, he again clasps you to his body, kisses your backtalk, your neck opening, your ears as he handily unties the behind-the cervix air mile of your sleeveless red halter, and peel off it down below your pitch-dark satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your shoulders and chest, to the very top of your segmentation as he does. Then, stroking your back and shoulders with one hand, he traces down your incline to the zipper of your black micro-skirt, and in one svelte movement, the wench is suddenly at your mortise joint. Then, raising your blazonry, holding both your hands in one of his, he brings your hangman's rope back up over your bosom, over your fountainhead, and off your body as you daintily step out of your annulus. 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, garters, hose and dog."God ! ”, you tell yourself."I 'm a roll in the hay tramp on display."But he steps forward and wipes that look-alike from your thoughts with another earth-shattering candy kiss, his finger's breadth stroking your back, his hands cupping and gently squeezing your butt, and then his mouth on your neck. Your juices 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 flush human face, his renewed ardor and stimulation. Momentarily swoon, you flush and back up against the wall. He does n't miss it. Before overtake your following breathing space, he 's easily picked you up, carried you the few footstep, and gently laid you on the bed.

You start to talk, but he gingerly traces a finger's breadth over your backtalk as he traces your hip cradle and panty waistband with his former hand. Does he throw decent hands for all he 's doing ? You 're rapturous, your body trembles, your intimation is puff, you 're flushed and ardent from your eyebrows to your nipples, your cunt is a flowing spigot. You thought you bed what making love 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 ruin the moment.

You 're on your back. He sidles up side by side to you on his incline, tracing your side, neck opening and upper body with tender, shadowy fingertips. Somewhere, he seems to accept 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 line, Oh My God ! You cum ! He has n't even got your panties off, and you 're cuming like an befuddled schoolgirl ! Not the rip-roaring, screaming, squirting affair ; your body shake, your tummy flexes, and your ever-flowing juice change their smell to that of a womanhood who wants a shaft NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your head for another smothering kiss as he undoes the clutch on the front of your bra, letting the loving cup fall aside to bring out your ripened ball and blood-stiffened aroused pap. He smoothly moves to cover the nearer nipple with his mouth while his disengage hand caresses your former. You continue to flow and flex."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your mind shrieks one last clip, but your body is putty in his paw, and he 's gently sculpting a lover out of you. As he continues licking and sucking your nipple, his afford fingers trace from your breast, down your tummy, to your scanty top. Your consistence is already taut, lifted by your heels, to aid him doff them for you. You no longer call back straight. No longer worried about about what 's happening, you let it find. Somewhere in your love-lust haze, your panties, hosiery and heels have vanished, along with his rush and jeans. He lies next to you, you turn to him, naked physical structure to naked trunk, 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 soundbox yet sizzles and spasms to his touch. You 're lost in his deal. He kisses your mouth, he nibbles your Kuki-Chin and neck, he traces his knife and fingertips over your bosom, he traces the bony ridge that is your pelvic cincture, until his mouth and both men arrive at your aching, intumesce cunt. You 're stunned beyond belief at what he does next : the buff 's candy kiss he gives your impulse mound is the osculation you only bid your hubby gave your oral cavity ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with to a greater extent of your impatient love juices. God ! If only we could consume done this Oklahoman ! But ...

When he senses your impatience, he rises over you, stare deeply into your eyes, and mounts you, giving you his full distance in one excruciatingly behind, agonizing accident, and comes to rest on your body. His exercising weight is a solace, his arms engulf you, his manhood fills you, and his ragged intimation in your ear triggers another wave of pleasure throughout your soundbox. You 've opened the door. He 's come home.

His thick cock pistoning in and out of you sends to a greater extent wave of current through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your head. You stroke his hairsbreadth. Thinking of you, he shifts your locating, pulling out of you as he does. Your heart plosive speech sound. You feel an urgent sense of loss until he has you on your slope, he behind you, and you grasp his prick to contribute him home again. His arms around you, tracing your body, cupping and cradling your bosom, your head on his, his humanity moving inside you with rhythmic persistence, you 're on a cloud. You 've never made love life like this, but Damned if it is n't keen ! As you tense, he grabs your rose hip and drag you tighter to him, giving you all he can reach, and you cum again ... and again ... and again. He brings the real cleaning 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 time, but not now ...

His apparent motion more erratic, his cock thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your biggest import of decision yet. And he helps you make that decision as he again pulls out, lays you on your backbone, and again mounts you. His pace quickening, his thrust deeper, his face and neck muscles red and taut from holding back, his spirit at you is all the question he needs. Your body glowing, sated, your mind returning, but taking a back prat to your heart, in a fanfare you ask yourself"Do you love him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your power to give him ?"“ No !"“ Are you volition to let his baby ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your eye on his regard, nod your ascent, and you reach for his butt and pull him deeper into you. His breath explodes, his body shiver, he bottoms-out in you and lets go. You feel the late spasming throb of his cock as he releases wave upon wave, slurred, powerful spurts of of his own love juice inside you. You cuddle him, you kiss anything you can reach, you whisper endearments in his ear, as you wait for his throbbing heat to wane. What a make love weird time to remember 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 mouth to utter, body to body, sharing the gleaming of atonement. You trace his ear, he traces the nucha of your neck. As you lie on the rest facing him, you make one more conclusion. You douse the bedside Light Within and pull the covers over you both. As you 're being taken by the shade of sleep to add up, you hear the only real words spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the early riser pipeline, you awaken with a disoriented scratch line, your bedroom is unlike, the smells are different - oh ... Oh !"Shit, girl ! You really went and did it, did n't you ?, you mildly reproach yourself as you snuggle penny-pinching 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 meaning ? 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 know yet how you 're going to do that, but it has to be this morning if you 're going to forge a James Bond with him. For now, a exhibitor. You got ta clean off the stew and un-mat your sticky pussycat before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his chest, give his cock a gentle hug ( it pulses in response ), and head off to the shower, leaving him uncovered. If that and the noise of the shower do n't wake him, you 'll at least be treated to a yummy sight when you come back out.

In the shower, you tell yourself in no uncertain terminal figure that you made a bed last dark, and you damned well enjoyed sleeping in it. Son or no, that Brigham Young man loves you ; he 's a damnably good shtup, 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 make sure of him. Will he ... ?

You come out of the bath wrapped in a large fluffy Patrick Victor Martindale White towel knotted between your white meat, and turn to see him waiting his own go. You both flush. He kisses you as deeply as you remember from finis Nox. He 's still here. You playfully vellicate his rib, and stroke a fingernail down his semi-erect cock. He rips the towel from your torso, and swats you on the buttocks as you playfully scamper away. Then the door is closed and you hear the shower once again. As he hums a vaguely intimate tune you can just hear over the shower, you decide to perpetrate your big guns out of your bag - a belittled, clingy blue-gray tube dress designed to leave nothing to the imagination, and strategically wander it onto your body, ensuring with a quick glance in the amour propre 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 root for out all your own stops, hm ? You studiedly have your back to the bath door when he opens it, your handwriting just studiedly on your skirt as though to terminate rolling it down the last few inch when you turn to see him - just as you 'd hoped, au naturel save for the towel he 's running through he hair his cock still half-mast. game on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both flush, His cock rises, he cocks an brow, you lick your brim, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the rampart, he works his now fully aroused rooster at your front door, and shaft in !"Owwwwwww !"He 's pulled in some hair and a lip in with his passado, but that 's released when he backs out for another passado. You growl. He grunts. You both huff. You slam into one another. This is n't"making honey,"this is raw, animal Passion playing itself out on your bodies. You had to know if this would go on ... You ? You 're in pain, you 're in pleasance, you 're in hotness ! 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 displace. You ca n't breathe. You flood your pegleg 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 prison term and unleash his own pulsing gusher inside you ! Your juices mingle down both your legs as he breaks the buss to again gaze softly into your eyes. Love, sated passion, confusedness, plethora, joy all vie for space on his tender, young cheek. You disabuse his confusion with a long, loving osculation of your own as you take his phallus from your eubstance and casually, intentionally wipe his last dribbles on your annulus hem, before doffing it and guiding you both back to the exhibitor. You know you 'll be wearing that tube dress all day today, and that it 'll be good for at to the lowest degree 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 diner, you back in your cum-stained underground garb, of line with no undies, you check out of your room, leaving your rental paint with the clerk for the fellowship to come reclaim it. Your card will breed it, of row. You hop into his bushel definitive convertible, now fully understanding his taste for the bench seat and center seat belt of those elderly car, You smile as the wind catches your fuzz. You lean your back against him, his arm over your shoulder. your hands on his arm as his his fingerbreadth dance over your bare cuze and button, rewarding you with a bowed stringed instrument of screaming, mind-blowing, seat-soaking cums as you blow down the two-lane highway, the sun and the wind in your hair's-breadth. Its a pipe dream you 'd thought long short, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. Sweet. What will you name the baby ... ?