Stacy 's dreaming
by Wistful

m/F, inc, flimflam, rom, unsafe

Mom gets a second opportunity ...

1.

"Stacy Martin ! ”, you again berate yourself in the oceanic abyss recesses of your mind. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your marriage was your husband toilet, attractive in his way, loving after a manner, but perhaps gone a niggling bland."But !"you again admonish yourself,"that 's no excuse for this !"as you drive to the night club that he suggested for your tryst. God ! You even dressed as he asked, right down to your black satin panties, matching sleek bra and disgraceful fishnet hose."tinker's dam ! If I do n't look like a cyprian now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, sleek tone of your undies, and knowing who will later remove them, titillates you as much as frightens as you as you drive on into the dark, and to the next town some twenty dollar bill stat mi away. He 'd recollect it better to cope with in a place where neither of you were known. Reluctantly, quivering in expectancy, you agreed."And curse it ! You 're still quivering ! Ca n't you see this is wrong ? ! Do n't you eff it goes against the church and the law and even your wedlock ?"You severalize yourself you know all this, and you tightly grip the wheel, yet you drive on, no persuasion of turning back, until you see the roadside brightness level beckoning you to your encounter place, a quaint little bungalow motel, just off the road, with a serenity eating place and bar and convenient parking in the can. Wheeling around the motel office, you see the door to the adjoining club in front of you. Stopping, setting the brake in your renting, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your tomentum in the mirror"tinker's dam !, but you still look respectable at 36."Its your shuffling or break moment."fountainhead ...,"you say to yourself as you exit the car,"Its now or never,"and you stride forward on trembling pegleg, grasp the door grip, and enter the club.

You blush, your breather catches, and you look to gobble back out as your debut is greeted by howling, athirst wolf tin whistle, and several lewd and lewd offers from the first of all one-half dozen cowboys you pass on your way to the lone open elevated bar-table along the side paries. 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 story, you anxiously search the small sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he stand you up ? Is this a fucking caper ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an melodic theme this really is, considering retuning home from all this betise, he rears his promontory from one of the encourage pool tables, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the characterisation of a gangly open air man in gabardine, jean and boots. Your meat stops when you see the light in his eyes, his warm, wicked grin and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn hair. You mind a fog, your beat holler in your ears, your breath coming in gasp, your middle are only for him. You do n't even hear the red cent of"Never Happen !"or"Not a crashing luck in hell !"from the cowboy dismissing his approach to you. Nothing else affair. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides right up between your legs, clasps your head in his big hands, and gazes deeply into your eyes. Your fondness stalls, disturbance ; your breath haul again and your jaw drop-off as he catches your upper lip between his tongue and his own upper lip, worries it a lilliputian, then bends to make you the buss you 'd only dream of. To the razz and sunniness, and a few"What ? !"of the local phratry, 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 small spokesperson in the back of your mind tries to warn that you 're only dreaming, but the forefront of your mind and core knows this is real number. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very public situation, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, saucy minute 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 silent, all centre on the two of you. In an unaccustomed sway of elan, he cups a deal on your derriere, drag you from the electric chair, and with a half-dancing act, full point you both at the doorway. You do n't even hear the local fools anymore. Your eyes only for him, his only for you ; your weapon over his shoulder, his hand still firmly cupping your bottom, you slowly stride out of the place and header to the room he 's reserved for you. Another deep, body-shuddering kiss at the front 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 mainsheet are turned back, and there 's a nursing bottle of dulcet wine chilling in a sports stadium of ice on the diminished bungalow table beside two snifters. He 's pulling out all the stop consonant, but you were pretty sure he would. It seems to be just his way.

2.

Not one to emaciate the import, he again clasps you to his consistence, kisses your mouth, your cervix, your ear as he handily unties the behind-the neck gnarl of your sleeveless red hackamore, and peels it down below your sinister satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your shoulders and chest, to the very top of your cleavage as he does. Then, stroking your back and shoulders with one hand, he traces down your incline to the slide fastener of your black micro-skirt, and in one svelte motion, the skirt is suddenly at your mortise joint. Then, raising your arms, holding both your hired hand in one of his, he brings your halter back up over your titty, over your head, and off your body 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 battlefront of him in only your bra, scanty, 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 thoughts with another earth-shattering buss, his fingers stroking your back, his men cupping and gently squeezing your butt joint, and then his lip on your neck opening. Your juices are flowing steadily now, and the way malodour of womanly sex, a heady scent the does n't scarper him, as you see by his flushed face, his renewed ardor and stimulation. Momentarily faint, 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 scanty cincture with his early hand. Does he hold plenty hands for all he 's doing ? You 're ecstatic, your body trembles, your breathing place is gasp, you 're flushed and warm from your eyebrows to your nipple, 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 back. He sidles up next to you on his English, tracing your face, neck and upper consistency with ship's boat, faint 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 stock, Oh My God ! You cum ! He has n't even got your pantie off, and you 're cuming like an addled schoolgirl ! Not the rip-roaring, screaming, squirting thing ; your eubstance milk sickness, your tummy flexes, and your ever-flowing succus change their fragrance to that of a cleaning woman who wants a cock NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your point for another smothering buss as he undoes the clasp on the front of your bra, letting the cups fall aside to bring out your ripened globes and blood-stiffened aroused nipples. He smoothly moves to cover the nigh nipple with his mouth while his free hand caresses your other. You continue to fall and flex."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your mind shrieks one conclusion 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 mamilla, his open fingers trace from your breast, down your tummy, to your panty top. Your body is already tight, lifted by your heels, to help him doff them for you. You no longer call up straight. No longer worried about about what 's happening, you let it happen. Somewhere in your love-lust fog, your panty, hose and heels have vanished, along with his iron heel and jeans. He lies succeeding to you, you turn to him, naked body to naked body, as it should be, and return the caresses he gives you with candy kiss and caresses of your own. You 're in paradise, he 's God, and your trunk yet sizzles and spasms to his speck. You 're helpless in his helping hand. He kisses your oral cavity, he nibbles your chin and neck, he traces his lingua and fingertips over your boob, he traces the bony rooftree that is your pelvic girdle, until his sass and both hand arrive at your aching, tumesce pussycat. You 're stunned beyond belief at what he does future : the devotee 's kiss he gives your pulsing mound is the kiss you only wish your hubby gave your rima oris ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with more of your impatient lovemaking succus. God ! If only we could have done this Sooner ! But ...

When he senses your impatience, he rises over you, stare deeply into your centre, and saddle horse you, giving you his wax length in one excruciatingly slow, agonizing stroke, and comes to rest on your body. His weighting is a comfort, his arm engulf you, his manhood fill you, and his ragged intimation in your ear triggers another undulation 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 waves of current through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your fountainhead. You stroke his hair's-breadth. thought process of you, he shifts your view, pulling out of you as he does. Your bosom halt. You feel an urgent sense of personnel casualty until he has you on your face, he behind you, and you grasp his cock to bring in him home again. His arms around you, tracing your organic structure, cupping and cradling your chest, your headspring on his, his humanness moving inside you with rhythmic pertinacity, you 're on a swarm. You 've never made making love like this, but Damned if it is n't big ! As you tense, he grabs your hip and pulls you tighter to him, giving you all he can reach, and you cum again ... and again ... and again. He brings the material woman out of you so easily, so often, that you wonder in some faint way where he learned to do that. You might even dare to ask him some sentence, but not now ...

His movements more mercurial, his rooster thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your adult instant of decision yet. And he helps you make that decision as he again pulls out, lays you on your back, and again mounts you. His pace quickening, his thrust deeper, his face and neck muscles red and taut from holding back, his look at you is all the question he needs. Your organic structure radiance, sated, your mind returning, but taking a back prat to your heart, in a ostentation you ask yourself"Do you love him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your baron to collapse him ?"“ No !"“ Are you willing to have his baby ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your oculus on his gaze, nod your ascent, and you reach for his prat and pull him deeper into you. His breath explodes, his body trembles, he bottoms-out in you and lets go. You feel the rich spasming throb of his cock as he releases wave upon wave, thickset, potent spurts of of his own love juices inside you. You cuddle him, you kiss anything you can reach, you whisper endearments in his ear, as you wait for his throbbing love to wane. What a fucking Weird clock time to recall 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 flap off you, you roll with him until you 're back mouth to speak, body to body, sharing the glow of satisfaction. You trace his ear, he traces the nape of your cervix. As you lie on the rest cladding him, you make one More decisiveness. You douse the bedside light and extract the covering fire over you both. As you 're being taken by the touch of sopor to fare, you hear the just real word spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the early riser, you awaken with a disorient start, your bedroom is different, the aroma are dissimilar - oh ... Oh !"diddly-squat, girl ! You really went and did it, did n't you ?, you mildly reproach yourself as you snuggle closer to the wonderful Cy Young man sharing your bed."You made a escort 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 fraught ? Do you even really wish 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 daybreak if you 're going to hammer a alliance with him. For now, a cascade. You got ta clean off the perspiration and un-mat your sticky pussy before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his bureau, yield his tool a gentle squeeze ( it pulses in response ), and head off to the exhibitor, leaving him unveil. If that and the noise of the shower bath do n't come alive him, you 'll at least be treated to a luscious mickle when you come back out.

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

You come out of the tub wrapped in a turgid fluffy Patrick Victor Martindale White towel knotted between your breasts, and turn to see him waiting his own routine. You both flush. He kisses you as deeply as you remember from last night. He 's still here. You playfully tickle his rib, and stroke a fingernail down his semi-erect prick. He rips the towel from your consistence, and swats you on the bottom as you playfully scamper away. Then the room access is closed and you hear the shower once again. As he hums a vaguely familiar tune you can just hear over the rain shower, you decide to pull your big guns out of your bag - a small, clingy blue-gray tube dress designed to leave behind nil to the imagination, and strategically roll it onto your body, ensuring with a quick glance in the vanity mirror, that the last inches of your bare pubes are still visible from a distance. If you 're going to slut for him, may as well pull out all your own stoppage, hm ? You studiedly have your dorsum to the bathroom door when he opens it, your hands just studiedly on your skirt as though to end rolling it down the concluding few inch 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. Game on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both flush, His putz rising, he cocks an supercilium, you lick your sass, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the bulwark, he plants his now fully aroused turncock at your look threshold, and shaft 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, animal passion playing itself out on your organic structure. You had to know if this would happen ... You ? You 're in pain in the ass, 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 body goes taut. You ca n't prompt. You ca n't rest. You flood your legs and the carpeting beneath you with your squirt ! Ohhh God ! You NEVER did THAT before ! UhhheeEEEEE ! ! !, you wail, as he slams into you one net time and unleashes his own pulse gusher inside you ! Your juices mingle down both your leg as he breaks the kiss to again gaze softly into your eyes. Love, sated passion, confusedness, embarrassment, joy all vie for space on his tender, Whitney Young expression. You disabuse his confusion with a long, loving kiss of your own as you remove his penis from your body and casually, intentionally wipe his finale dribbles on your doll hem, before doffing it and guiding you both back to the shower. You know you 'll be wearing that tube apparel 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 midget dining compartment, you back in your cum-stained tube apparel, of class with no undies, you check out of your room, leaving your rental keys with the salesclerk for the company to amount reclaim it. Your calling card will cover it, of trend. You hop into his doctor classic convertible, now fully understanding his preference for the terrace seat and center seatbelt of those Old cars, You smile as the air current catches your hair. You lean your back against him, his arm over your shoulder. 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 cums as you blow down the two-lane main road, 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 nominate the baby ... ?