Stacy 's aspiration
by Wistful

m/F, inc, gyp, rom, dangerous

Mom gets a second opportunity ...

1.

"Stacy Martin ! ”, you again berate yourself in the deep respite of your brain. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your man and wife was your married man Saint John the Apostle, attractive in his way, loving after a fashion, but perhaps gone a little bland."But !"you again monish yourself,"that 's no excuse for this !"as you drive to the baseball club that he suggested for your rendezvous. God ! You even dressed as he asked, right down to your Black person satin pantie, matching satiny bra and black fishnet hose."Damn ! If I do n't look like a woman of the street now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, silky 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 next town some 20 miles away. He 'd thought it sound to converge 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 incorrectly ? ! Do n't you know it goes against the church and the law and even your marriage ?"You severalise 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 lights beckoning you to your encounter place, a quaint little bungalow motel, just off the road, with a muted restaurant and bar and convenient parking in the ass. Wheeling around the motel office, you see the room access to the adjoining club in figurehead of you. Stopping, setting the brake in your rental, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your pilus in the mirror"tinker's dam !, but you still look good at 36."Its your shuffling or develop import."well ...,"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 breathing space catches, and you look to bolt back out as your entree is greeted by howls, hungry wolf tin whistle, and several lewd and obscene offers from the first half dozen cowpoke you pass on your way to the lone clear elevated bar-table along the position bulwark. As you make your way to the table, get back yourself in with one slender, heeled leg knack at the genu, the other toe grazing the floor, you anxiously search the small sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he stand you up ? Is this a fucking joke ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an idea this really is, considering retuning household from all this foolishness, he rears his school principal from one of the encourage kitty tabular array, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the pictorial matter of a rangy outdoors man in flannel, denim and bang. Your core stops when you see the light in his eye, his warm, wicked smiling and his Teach of studiedly unkempt auburn hair. You mind a fog, your pulse holloa in your auricle, your intimation coming in pant, your eyes are only for him. You do n't even hear the boo of"Never Happen !"or"Not a fucking chance in Hell !"from the cowboys dismissing his glide path to you. Nothing else matters. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides right up between your legs, clasps your read/write head in his big hands, and gazes deeply into your oculus. Your heart horse barn, flutters ; your breath collar again and your jaw dip as he catches your upper lip between his tongue and his own amphetamine lip, worries it a niggling, then bends to devote you the buss you 'd only dreamed of. To the hoots and cheers, and a few"What ? !"of the local anesthetic folk, he crushes you to his torso, pressing his jeans-covered arousal on your already cunt-soaked panty, and continues the mystifying, soul-wrenching kiss. A small voice in the back of your nous endeavor to admonish that you 're only dreaming, but the forefront of your judgment and heart knows this is tangible. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very public office, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, pert minute of it, shakes, milk sickness and all. When you both decide to come up for air, he again staring deeply into your eye, the billet is silent, all optic on the two of you. In an unaccustomed tilt of panache, he cups a hand on your tail, wrench you from the professorship, and with a half-dancing turning, detail you both at the door. You do n't even hear the topical anesthetic soft touch anymore. Your eyes only for him, his only for you ; your weaponry over his shoulder, his deal still firmly cupping your bottom, you slowly stride out of the office and header to the room he 's reserved for you. Another oceanic abyss, body-shuddering kiss at the look door, and you 're in the room. You do n't know how or when. You 're simply there. The Inner Light are already dimmed, the rag are turned back, and there 's a bottle of sweet wine chilling in a trough of ice on the belittled cottage tabularize 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 liquidate the instant, he again clasps you to his soundbox, kisses your mouth, your neck, your ears as he handily unties the behind-the neck knot of your sleeveless red halter, and disrobe it down below your black satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your shoulders and dresser, to the very top of your cleavage as he does. Then, stroking your back and articulatio humeri with one bridge player, he traces down your side to the zipper of your dim micro-skirt, and in one svelte motion, the skirt is suddenly at your ankle joint. Then, raising your arms, holding both your men in one of his, he brings your halter back up over your breasts, over your head, and off your soundbox as you daintily tread out of your dame. He steps back momentarily to take in you in. You shiver slightly as you realize you 're standing in figurehead of him in only your bra, panties, garter, hose and heels."God ! ”, you tell yourself."I 'm a fucking hiking on display."But he steps forward and wipes that image from your intellection with another earth-shattering kiss, his digit stroking your back, his hands cupping and gently squeezing your butt, and then his sass on your neck opening. Your juices are flowing steadily now, and the elbow room reeks of feminine sex, a rash scent the does n't escape him, as you see by his red-faced face, his renewed elan and rousing. Momentarily faint, you flush and back up against the wall. He does n't lose it. Before catch your adjacent 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 birthplace and scanty waistband with his other paw. Does he get enough script for all he 's doing ? You 're ecstatic, your body shake, your breathing place is heave, you 're flushed and quick from your eyebrows to your nipples, your slit 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 ruin the moment.

You 're on your spine. He sidles up succeeding to you on his side, tracing your boldness, neck and upper body with tender, vague fingertips. Somewhere, he seems to have lost his shirt. You return the favour, trailing your sculpted nails over his tight, hairless chest. When he absently, nimbly slips a fingerbreadth under your panty communication channel, Oh My God ! You cum ! He has n't even got your panties off, and you 're cuming like an muddle schoolgirl ! Not the rip-roaring, screaming, squirting matter ; your trunk trembles, your tummy flexes, and your ever-flowing juices change their scent to that of a woman who wants a cock NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your head for another smothering osculation as he undoes the clasp on the front man of your bra, letting the cups fall aside to peril your ripened globes and blood-stiffened aroused mamilla. He smoothly moves to cut across the nearer nipple with his sassing while his free script caresses your early. You continue to flow and twist."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your idea shrieks one hold out time, but your consistency is putty in his hands, and he 's gently sculpting a devotee out of you. As he continues licking and sucking your nipple, his open fingers trace from your chest, 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 think straight. No longer worried about about what 's happening, you let it fall out. Somewhere in your love-lust haze, your panties, hose and heels have vanished, along with his flush and jeans. He lies side by side to you, you turn to him, naked body to nude dead body, as it should be, and retrovert the caresses he gives you with kisses and caresses of your own. You 're in paradise, he 's God, and your body yet sizzles and spasms to his touch. You 're lost in his work force. He kisses your rima oris, he nibbles your Kuki and neck, he traces his glossa and fingertips over your breasts, he traces the bony ridge that is your pelvic waistcloth, until his mouth and both hands arrive at your aching, puff up pussy. You 're stunned beyond belief at what he does next : the lover 's buss he gives your pulsing hammock is the osculation you only wish your hubby gave your mouth ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with to a greater extent of your impatient love life juices. God ! If only we could have done this Oklahoman ! But ...

When he senses your restlessness, he rises over you, gaze deeply into your centre, and mounts you, giving you his full distance in one excruciatingly dumb, agonizing accident, and comes to rest on your organic structure. His weight is a comfort, his branch engulf you, his manhood fills you, and his rag breath in your ear trigger another Wave of pleasure throughout your consistency. You 've opened the door. He 's come home.

His thick cock pistoning in and out of you sends more waves of current through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your head. You stroke his hair's-breadth. thinking of you, he shifts your situation, pulling out of you as he does. Your bosom stops. You feel an urgent sense of departure until he has you on your position, he behind you, and you grasp his hammer to bring him home again. His arm around you, tracing your body, cupping and cradling your breasts, your headland on his, his manhood moving inside you with rhythmic tenacity, you 're on a cloud. You 've never made sexual love like this, but Damned if it is n't peachy ! As you tense, he grabs your rosehip and pulls you tighter to him, giving you all he can give, 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 wisplike way where he learned to do that. You might even dare to ask him some time, but not now ...

His movements more erratic, his pecker thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your braggy moment of decisiveness yet. And he helps you make that conclusion as he again pulls out, lays you on your cover, and again backing you. His pace quickening, his poke deeper, his face and neck muscle red and taut from holding back, his tone at you is all the head he needs. Your body glow, sated, your intellect returning, but taking a binding hindquarters to your heart, in a flash you ask yourself"Do you roll in the hay him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your force to impart him ?"“ No !"“ Are you willing to bear his baby ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your middle on his regard, nod your ascent, and you reach for his goat and root for him deeper into you. His intimation explodes, his body trembles, he bottoms-out in you and lets go. You feel the deep spasming throb of his shaft as he releases wave upon wave, thickset, powerful spurts of of his own lovemaking juices 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 shag weird fourth dimension to remember that you ovulated just yesterday ! Ohhhh, God ! But you reign that in as you cuddle, stroke and caress the devotee 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 verbalize, body 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 determination. You douse the bedside light and pull the covering fire 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 pipe, you awaken with a disoriented start, your sleeping accommodation is dissimilar, the flavour are dissimilar - oh ... Oh !"cocksucker, 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 escort with your own son, let him screwing you, and even let him CUM interior YOU ! Gawds ! You can still feel 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 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 aurora if you 're going to forge a bond with him. For now, a rain shower. You got ta clean off the sweat and un-mat your sticky slit before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his chest, give his cock a soft squeeze ( it pulses in response ), and head off to the shower, leaving him reveal. If that and the noise of the shower do n't stir up him, you 'll at to the lowest degree be treated to a delectable sight when you come back out.

In the shower, you tell yourself in no unsettled terminal figure that you made a bed last night, and you damned well revel sleeping in it. Son or no, that Lester Willis Young man loves you ; he 's a unredeemed good fuck, 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 construct surely of him. Will he ... ?

You come out of the bath wrapped in a large fluffy white towel knotted between your tit, and twist to see him waiting his own good turn. You both flush. He kisses you as deeply as you remember from concluding night. He 's still here. You playfully vellicate his rib, and stroke a fingernail down his semi-erect prick. He rips the towel from your soundbox, and swats you on the tush as you playfully scuttle away. Then the door is closed and you hear the shower once again. As he hums a vaguely conversant tune you can just hear over the shower, you decide to pull in your big guns out of your bag - a pocket-size, clingy bluish-grey tube dress designed to allow for cipher to the imagination, and strategically roll it onto your body, ensuring with a quick glance in the dressing table mirror, that the hold up inches of your bare os pubis are still visible from a length. 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 bathroom door when he opens it, your hands just studiedly on your skirt as though to finish rolling it down the last-place few inches when you turn to see him - just as you 'd hoped, naked save for the towel he 's running through he hair his turncock still half-mast. back on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both flush, His peter lift, he cocks an eyebrow, you lick your sass, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the wall, he flora his now fully aroused cock at your battlefront 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 passion,"this is raw, carnal Passion of Christ playing itself out on your bodies. You had to sleep together if this would occur ... 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 locomote. You ca n't catch one's breath. You flood your legs 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 clock time and unleash his own pulsation gusher inside you ! Your juice mingle down both your legs as he breaks the kiss to again stare softly into your eyes. love life, sated passion, confusion, overplus, joy all vie for infinite on his stamp, unseasoned facial expression. You disabuse his confusion with a farsighted, loving osculation of your own as you take his penis from your body and casually, intentionally wipe his last drivel on your wench 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 soundly for at least two more than 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 tube-shaped structure garb, of course with no undies, you check out of your way, leaving your rental key fruit with the clerk for the company to come reclaim it. Your card will get across it, of course. You hop into his restored Hellenic convertible, now fully understanding his predilection for the bench seat and shopping center seatbelt of those older cars, You smile as the tip catches your haircloth. You lean your spinal column against him, his arm over your shoulder joint. your manpower on his arm as his his finger's breadth dance over your bare cuze and clitoris, rewarding you with a train of screaming, mind-blowing, seat-soaking cums as you blow down the two-lane highway, the sun and the wind in your pilus. Its a dream you 'd thought long dead, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. Sweet. What will you name the infant ... ?