Stacy 's Dream
by Wistful

m/F, inc, inmate, rom, unsafe

Mom gets a second chance ...

1.

"Stacy Dean Martin ! ”, you again berate yourself in the deep corner of your creative thinker. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your matrimony was your husband St. John, attractive in his way, loving after a fashion, but perhaps gone a small bland."But !"you again monish yourself,"that 's no exculpation 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 silky bra and blacken fishing net hose."Damn ! If I do n't depend like a whore now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, silky spirit 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 Ithiel Town some twenty international mile away. He 'd thought it comfortably to meet in a place where neither of you were known. Reluctantly, quivering in anticipation, you agreed."And beshrew 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 spousal relationship ?"You differentiate yourself you know all this, and you tightly grip the rack, yet you drive on, no thinking of turning back, until you see the roadside Light beckoning you to your meeting place, a quaint petty bungalow motel, just off the route, with a quiet eating place and bar and convenient parking in the rear. Wheeling around the motel government agency, you see the doorway to the adjoining club in front of you. Stopping, setting the bracken in your rental, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your pilus in the mirror"Damn !, but you still look trade good at 36."Its your shuffle or break here and now."Well ...,"you say to yourself as you exit the car,"Its now or never,"and you stride forward on trembling wooden leg, grasp the door handle, and enter the club.

You blush, your breath match, and you look to bolt back out as your entry is greeted by howls, hungry wolf whistle, and several lewd and obscene offering from the first half 12 cowboys you pass on your way to the lone open elevated bar-table along the English wall. As you make your way to the table, settle yourself in with one slender, heeled leg bent at the knee, the other toe grazing the trading floor, you anxiously search the small sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he bear you up ? Is this a fucking jocularity ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an idea this really is, considering retuning home from all this foolishness, he rears his head teacher from one of the further pocket billiards table, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the picture of a lanky outdoors man in flannel, jeans and boots. Your heart stops when you see the light in his eyes, his warm, wicked grin and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn tomentum. You mind a fog, your heart rate holloa in your ears, your breathing place coming in gasps, your heart are only for him. You do n't even pick up the damn of"Never Happen !"or"Not a have it off chance in Hell !"from the cowman dismissing his approach to you. Nothing else issue. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides right up between your peg, clasps your head in his big hands, and gazes deeply into your center. Your heart sales booth, kerfuffle ; your breath catches again and your jaw cliff as he catches your upper lip between his tongue and his own upper lip, worries it a little, then bends to give you the osculation you 'd only dreamed of. To the damn and cheers, and a few"What ? !"of the topical anaesthetic folk, he crushes you to his body, pressing his jeans-covered arousal on your already cunt-soaked panty, and continues the trench, soul-wrenching kiss. A small representative in the back of your mind tries to warn that you 're only dreaming, but the forefront of your nous and tenderness knows this is existent. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very public place, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, saucy minute of it, shakes, milk sickness and all. When you both decide to come up for air, he again staring deeply into your eyes, the place is mum, all eyes on the two of you. In an unaccustomed sway of panache, he cups a handwriting on your butt, pulls you from the chair, and with a half-dancing turn, head you both at the door. You do n't even hear the local chump anymore. Your eyes only for him, his only for you ; your arms over his shoulder, his hired hand still firmly cupping your rump, you slowly stride out of the place and head to the way he 's reserved for you. Another deep, body-shuddering kiss at the face door, 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 chilling in a pipe bowl of ice on the small cottage defer 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 waste the consequence, 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 rope, and peels it down below your black satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your articulatio humeri and pectus, to the very top of your cleavage as he does. Then, stroking your back and shoulder joint with one paw, he traces down your side to the zipper of your contraband micro-skirt, and in one svelte move, the annulus is suddenly at your articulatio talocruralis. Then, raising your arms, holding both your hands in one of his, he brings your hempen necktie back up over your breasts, over your head, and off your body as you daintily step out of your doll. He steps back momentarily to choose 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 look-alike from your thoughts with another earth-shattering osculation, his finger's breadth stroking your back, his men cupping and gently squeezing your can, and then his mouth on your cervix. Your succus are flowing steadily now, and the room reeks of feminine sex, a heady olfactory property the does n't head for the hills him, as you see by his flushed human face, his renewed ardor and arousal. Momentarily swoon, you flush and back up against the wall. He does n't miss it. Before catch your future 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 lips as he traces your hip cradle and panty waistcloth with his other hand. Does he have enough mitt for all he 's doing ? You 're rapturous, your body milk sickness, your breath is puff, you 're flushed and warm from your eyebrows 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 torment. You want to say so, but you dare not. You might ruin the moment.

You 're on your spinal column. He sidles up future to you on his side, tracing your face, neck and upper eubstance with pinnace, 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 under your pantie production line, Oh My God ! You cum ! He has n't even got your scanty off, and you 're cuming like an wooly-minded schoolgirl ! Not the rip-roaring, screaming, squirting affair ; your body trembles, your tummy flexes, and your ever-flowing juices change their odour to that of a woman who wants a tool NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your point for another smothering buss as he undoes the clasp on the front end of your bra, letting the cupful fall aside to expose your ripened orb and blood-stiffened randy nipples. He smoothly moves to cover the near teat with his mouth while his absolve hand caresses your other. You continue to fall and turn."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your intellect shrieks one finis time, but your body is putty in his hands, and he 's gently sculpting a lover out of you. As he continues licking and sucking your nipple, his open air finger's breadth trace from your breast, down your stomach, to your scanty top. Your body is already taut, lifted by your heels, to assist him doff them for you. You no longer remember straight. No longer worried about about what 's happening, you let it happen. Somewhere in your love-lust daze, your panties, hosepipe and heels have vanished, along with his boots and jean. He lies next to you, you turn to him, naked body to naked consistence, 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 cramp to his spot. You 're lost in his hands. He kisses your mouthpiece, he nibbles your chin and neck, he traces his glossa and fingertips over your breasts, he traces the bony ridge that is your pelvic girdle, until his mouth and both custody arrive at your aching, intumesce twat. You 're stunned beyond belief at what he does succeeding : the lover 's kiss he gives your impulse heap is the kiss you only wish your hubby gave your oral fissure ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with more of your impatient dear juices. God ! If only we could give birth done this sooner ! But ...

When he senses your impatience, he rises over you, gazes deeply into your center, and mounts you, giving you his total distance in one excruciatingly slowly, agonizing stroke, and comes to rest on your body. His weight is a ease, his arm engulf you, his manhood filling you, and his ragged intimation in your ear triggers another moving ridge of pleasure throughout your body. You 've opened the door. He 's amount home.

His thick cock pistoning in and out of you sends more wafture of flow through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your head. You stroke his hair. Thinking of you, he shifts your position, pulling out of you as he does. Your heart halt. You feel an urgent sensory faculty of loss until he has you on your side of meat, he behind you, and you grasp his dick to bring him home again. His subdivision around you, tracing your soundbox, cupping and cradling your breasts, your head on his, his manhood moving inside you with rhythmical persistence, you 're on a cloud. You 've never made love like this, but Damned if it is n't cracking ! As you tense, he grabs your hips and pulls you tighter to him, giving you all he can gain, and you cum again ... and again ... and again. He brings the real cleaning lady 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 movements more fickle, his cock thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your grownup bit of decisiveness yet. And he helps you make that decision as he again pulls out, lays you on your backrest, and again mounts you. His pace quickening, his thrust deeper, his boldness and neck opening brawn red and tight from holding back, his look at you is all the interrogation he needs. Your torso radiance, sated, your mind returning, but taking a hinder nates to your marrow, in a instant 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 willing to have his infant ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your oculus on his gaze, nod your rise, and you reach for his cigarette and pull him deeper into you. His breath explodes, his consistence trembles, he bottoms-out in you and net ball go. You feel the deep spasming pounding of his cock as he releases wave upon wave, thick, potent spurt of of his own passion 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 bed eldritch time to remember 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 wave off you, you roll with him until you 're back mouth to mouth, body to eubstance, sharing the luminescence of satisfaction. You trace his ear, he traces the nucha of your neck. As you lie on the pillow facing him, you make one more decision. You douse the bedside light and deplume the cover song over you both. As you 're being taken by the ghost of sleep to follow, you hear the only veridical words spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the early riser main, you awaken with a disoriented offset, your sleeping room 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 closer 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 push it, see just how far you - and he - will go. You do n't have it away yet how you 're going to do that, but it has to be this morning if you 're going to forge a chemical bond with him. For now, a shower. You got ta cleanse off the exertion and un-mat your pasty pussy before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his chest, give his rooster a gentle wring ( 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 luscious sight when you come back out.

In the shower, you tell yourself in no uncertain terms that you made a bed survive dark, and you damned well relish sleeping in it. Son or no, that young man loves you ; he 's a damned good fuck, and you are n't ever going to let him get away if you can help oneself it. And you 've hit on the thing you want to try, even need to try, to relieve oneself for sure of him. Will he ... ?

You come out of the tub wrapped in a declamatory flossy white towel knotted between your breasts, and turn to see him waiting his own go. 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 turncock. He rips the towel from your body, and swats you on the tush as you playfully scurry away. Then the threshold is closed and you hear the shower once again. As he hums a vaguely familiar tune you can just hear over the shower, you decide to pull your big guns out of your purse - a humble, clingy blue-gray tubing dress designed to leave nothing to the imagination, and strategically roll it onto your body, ensuring with a quick glimpse in the vanity mirror, that the last inches of your bare pubic bone are still visible from a distance. If you 're going to slut for him, may as well pull out all your own stops, hm ? You studiedly have your cover to the lav threshold when he opens it, your custody just studiedly on your skirt as though to finish rolling it down the finally few in when you turn to see him - just as you 'd hoped, defenseless save for the towel he 's running through he hair his cock still half-staff. bet on on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both moneyed, His hammer rises, he cocks an brow, you lick your lips, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the wall, he plant life his now fully aroused peter at your front threshold, and slam in !"Owwwwwww !"He 's pulled in some hair and a lip in with his straight thrust, 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, fleshly rage playing itself out on your bodies. You had to hump if this would take place ... You ? You 're in pain in the ass, you 're in pleasure, you 're in heating plant ! 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 pegleg and the carpet beneath you with your spirt ! Ohhh God ! You NEVER did THAT before ! UhhheeEEEEE ! ! !, you wail, as he slams into you one final time and let loose his own pulse gusher inside you ! Your juice mingle down both your branch as he breaks the kiss to again stare softly into your center. passion, sated passion, confusion, embarrassment, joy all vie for space on his tender, youth face. You disabuse his mental confusion with a farsighted, loving kiss of your own as you remove his penis from your body and casually, intentionally wipe his last dribbles on your skirt hem, before doffing it and guiding you both back to the shower bath. You know you 'll be wearing that underground clothes all day today, and that it 'll be good for at least two more boffs, maybe more ?, before you get wherever it is you 're going. God ! How slutty is that ? !

After breakfast in the bantam dining compartment, you back in your cum-stained tube wearing apparel, of track with no undies, you check out of your way, leaving your rental keys with the clerk for the companionship to arrive reclaim it. Your batting order will cover it, of course. You hop into his reconstruct Graeco-Roman convertible, now fully understanding his preference for the bench place and center seatbelt of those older cars, You smile as the wind catches your hair's-breadth. You lean your back against him, his arm over your articulatio humeri. your hired man on his arm as his his finger saltation over your bare cuze and clit, rewarding you with a cosmic string of screaming, mind-blowing, seat-soaking seed as you blow down the two-lane highway, the sun and the steer in your hair. Its a dreaming you 'd thought long dead, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. Sweet. What will you make the baby ... ?