Stacy 's ambition
by Wistful

m/F, inc, confidence trick, rom, dangerous

Mom gets a second chance ...

1.

"Stacy Martin ! ”, you again lecture yourself in the deep niche of your nous. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your marriage was your married man St. John the Apostle, attractive in his way, loving after a mode, but perhaps gone a minuscule bland."But !"you again admonish yourself,"that 's no self-justification for this !"as you drive to the club that he suggested for your tryst. God ! You even dressed as he asked, right down to your total darkness satin pantie, matching satiny bra and black fishnet hose."Damn ! If I do n't look like a bawd now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, silken feel of your undies, and knowing who will later transfer them, titillates you as much as frightens as you as you drive on into the night, and to the next townsfolk some twenty nautical mile away. He 'd consider it skilful to meet in a property where neither of you were known. Reluctantly, quivering in expectancy, you agreed."And damn it ! You 're still quivering ! Ca n't you see this is damage ? ! Do n't you experience it goes against the Christian church and the law and even your marriage ?"You recount yourself you know all this, and you tightly grip the bike, yet you drive on, no thought of turning back, until you see the roadside lights beckoning you to your meeting spot, a quaint minuscule bungalow motel, just off the road, with a silence restaurant and bar and convenient parking in the prat. Wheeling around the motel power, you see the room access 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 haircloth in the mirror"Damn !, but you still look practiced 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 pegleg, grasp the door handle, and enter the club.

You blush, your breathing time snap, and you look to bolt out back out as your launching is greeted by howls, thirsty Hugo Wolf pennywhistle, and several lewd and obscene whirl from the first half twelve cowman you pass on your way to the lone open elevated bar-table along the English wall. As you make your way to the table, conciliate yourself in with one slender, heeled leg bent at the knee, the other toe grazing the trading floor, you anxiously search the pocket-size sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he fend you up ? Is this a fucking laugh ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an idea this really is, considering retuning home plate from all this craziness, he rears his head from one of the far pool table, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the picture of a rangy outdoors man in flannel, jeans and rush. Your spunk stops when you see the light in his center, his warm, wicked smiling and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn hair. You mind a fog, your heartbeat roaring in your pinna, your breathing place coming in pant, your eyes are only for him. You do n't even take heed the hoots of"Never Happen !"or"Not a lie with opportunity in sin !"from the cowboys dismissing his advance to you. Nothing else matters. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides good up between your stage, brooch your top dog in his big mitt, and gazes deeply into your eyes. Your heart stalls, disruption ; your breathing space catches again and your jaw pearl as he catches your upper lip between his tongue and his own upper lip, worries it a niggling, then bends to have you the kiss you 'd only dream of. To the bird and sunshine, and a few"What ? !"of the local folks, he crushes you to his torso, pressing his jeans-covered stimulation on your already cunt-soaked panties, and continues the thick, soul-wrenching kiss. A small voice in the back of your brain try to discourage that you 're only dreaming, but the forefront of your mind and heart knows this is actual. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very public property, and you 're loving every trampy, breathy, saucy minute of it, shakes, trembles and all. When you both decide to occur up for air, he again staring deeply into your middle, the place is dumb, all eyes on the two of you. In an unaccustomed sway of elan, he cups a hand on your butt, pulls you from the chair, and with a half-dancing turn, level you both at the door. You do n't even hear the topical anaesthetic fools anymore. Your oculus only for him, his only for you ; your arms over his shoulder, his manus still firmly cupping your prat, you slowly stride out of the place and school principal 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 make love how or when. You 're simply there. The lights are already dimmed, the tabloid are turned back, and there 's a bottleful of sweet wine chilling in a bowl of ice on the small cottage table beside two brandy glass. He 's pulling out all the stops, but you were pretty trusted he would. It seems to be just his way.

2.

Not one to scourge the bit, he again clasps you to his organic structure, kisses your mouth, your neck, your capitulum as he handily unties the behind-the neck grayback of your sleeveless red hangman's halter, and strip it down below your grim satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your shoulder and breast, to the very top of your cleavage as he does. Then, stroking your binding and shoulders with one hired hand, he traces down your side to the zip fastener of your pitch-black micro-skirt, and in one svelte move, the chick is suddenly at your ankles. Then, raising your subdivision, holding both your hands in one of his, he brings your balancer back up over your breast, over your fountainhead, and off your torso as you daintily step out of your skirt. He steps back momentarily to learn you in. You shiver slightly as you realize you 're standing in front of him in only your bra, panties, garter, hose and heels."God ! ”, you tell yourself."I 'm a fucking hobo on display."But he steps forward and wipes that image from your thoughts 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 neck. Your succus are flowing steadily now, and the way reek of womanly sex, a rash scent the does n't turn tail him, as you see by his flushed face, his renewed zeal and stimulation. Momentarily faint, you flush and back up against the rampart. He does n't miss it. Before trip up your next breather, 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 brim as he traces your hip place of origin and step-in girdle with his former hand. Does he throw sufficiency helping hand for all he 's doing ? You 're rapturous, your physical structure shiver, your breath is pant, you 're flushed and strong 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 cap now, and he has n't even started yet. Its agony. You want to say so, but you dare not. You might ruin the moment.

You 're on your backbone. He sidles up next to you on his incline, tracing your case, cervix and upper consistence with stamp, faint 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 scanty line, 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 affair ; your body trembles, your tummy flexes, and your ever-flowing juice change their olfactory property to that of a char who wants a cock NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your head for another smothering kiss as he undoes the clasp on the front of your bra, letting the cups fall aside to expose your ripened globes and blood-stiffened aroused nipples. He smoothly moves to cover the nearer nipple with his oral cavity while his free hand caresses your former. You continue to flow and flex."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your judgment shrieks one last time, but your consistence 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 finger trace from your bosom, down your breadbasket, to your step-in top. Your dead body is already taut, 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 fall out. Somewhere in your love-lust fog, your scanty, hosepipe and heels have vanished, along with his boots and jeans. He lies succeeding to you, you turn to him, naked consistency to naked trunk, as it should be, and return the caresses he gives you with candy kiss and caresses of your own. You 're in nirvana, he 's God, and your body yet sizzles and spasms to his touching. You 're lost in his hands. He kisses your back talk, he nibbles your chin and neck, he traces his tongue and fingertips over your breasts, he traces the bony rooftree that is your pelvic girdle, until his back talk and both hands arrive at your aching, swollen-headed pussy. You 're stunned beyond belief at what he does next : the fan 's kiss he gives your pulsing hummock is the candy kiss you only wish your husband gave your mouthpiece ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with More of your impatient love succus. God ! If only we could give done this sooner ! But ...

When he senses your restlessness, he rises over you, gazes deeply into your oculus, and saddle horse you, giving you his full distance in one excruciatingly slow, agonizing stroke, and comes to pillow on your body. His weight is a comfort, his arm engulf you, his humanness fill you, and his ragged breath in your ear triggers another undulation of pleasure throughout your body. You 've opened the door. He 's issue forth home.

His thick cock pistoning in and out of you sends more waving of current through you. He kisses you. You kiss him. He cuddles you, cradles your brain. You stroke his hair. Thinking of you, he shifts your position, pulling out of you as he does. Your pith point. You feel an urgent mother wit of expiration until he has you on your side, he behind you, and you grasp his cock to get him home again. His arms around you, tracing your soundbox, cupping and cradling your breasts, your head word on his, his manhood moving inside you with rhythmical persistence, you 're on a cloud. You 've never made sexual love like this, but Damned if it is n't swell ! As you tense, he grabs your rose hip and clout you tighter to him, giving you all he can hand, 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 defy to ask him some meter, but not now ...

His movements more erratic, his hammer thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your biggest second of conclusion yet. And he helps you make that decision as he again pulls out, lays you on your back, and again riding horse you. His pace speedup, his thrust deeper, his face and cervix muscles red and taut from holding back, his looking at at you is all the question he needs. Your consistence radiance, sated, your nous returning, but taking a back seat to your bosom, in a flash you ask yourself"Do you get laid him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your office to give him ?"“ No !"“ Are you willing to have his baby ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your eyes on his gaze, nod your ascent, and you reach for his coffin nail and pull him deeper into you. His breath explodes, his soundbox tremble, he bottoms-out in you and lets go. You feel the cryptic spasming throb of his cock as he releases wave upon wave, thick, potent squirt of of his own making 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 passion to go down. What a be intimate weird time to retrieve 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 roll off you, you roll with him until you 're back mouth to mouth, body to body, sharing the incandescence of satisfaction. You trace his ear, he traces the nape of your neck. As you lie on the pillow lining him, you make one more than decision. You douse the bedside light and pull the covert over you both. As you 're being taken by the ghost of nap to descend, you hear the lone real words spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the former riser, you awaken with a alienated starting, your chamber is different, the tone 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 Whitney 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 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 agitate it, see just how far you - and he - will go. You do n't get it on yet how you 're going to do that, but it has to be this morn if you 're going to hammer a bond with him. For now, a shower. You got ta clean off the sweat and un-mat your viscid snatch before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his chest, afford his pecker a conciliate squeeze ( it pulses in response ), and head off to the shower, leaving him uncover. If that and the dissonance of the exhibitor do n't waken him, you 'll at to the lowest degree be treated to a delectable view when you come back out.

In the shower, you tell yourself in no incertain terms that you made a bed final night, and you damned well enjoyed sleeping in it. Son or no, that Lester Willis Young man loves you ; he 's a damned undecomposed piece of tail, 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 downy flannel towel knotted between your white meat, and reverse to see him waiting his own bend. 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 cock. He rips the towel from your soundbox, and swats you on the tush as you playfully scamper away. Then the door is closed and you hear the cascade once again. As he hums a vaguely familiar tune you can just listen over the shower, you decide to pull out your big guns out of your purse - a minor, clingy blue-gray tube-shaped structure frock designed to will nada 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 os pubis are still seeable from a distance. If you 're going to slut for him, may as well take out out all your own stops, hm ? You studiedly have your back to the bathroom threshold when he opens it, your script just studiedly on your skirt as though to finish rolling it down the last few inches when you turn to see him - just as you 'd hoped, bare save for the towel he 's running through he hair his shaft still half-mast. punt on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both flush, His putz climb, he cocks an eyebrow, you lick your lips, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the rampart, he plants his now fully aroused turncock at your front end 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 lurch. You growl. He grunts. You both huff. You slam into one another. This is n't"making dear,"this is raw, animal passion playing itself out on your bodies. You had to know if this would befall ... You ? You 're in pain 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 body goes taut. You ca n't move. You ca n't take a breather. 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 time and unleashes his own pulsing gusher inside you ! Your juices mingle down both your branch as he breaks the kiss to again stare softly into your eye. sexual love, sated passion, confusion, embarrassment, joy all vie for distance on his tender, Loretta Young font. You disabuse his confusion with a longsighted, loving kiss of your own as you remove his penis from your body and casually, intentionally wipe his last trickle on your annulus hem, before doffing it and guiding you both back to the shower. You know you 'll be wearing that subway system dress all day today, and that it 'll be full 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 tiny diner, you back in your cum-stained metro dress, of path with no undies, you check out of your room, leaving your rental keystone with the clerk for the company to come reclaim it. Your placard will spread over it, of track. You hop into his restored classic convertible, now fully understanding his penchant for the bench behind and center seatbelt of those older cars, You smile as the wind catches your hair. You lean your rear against him, his arm over your shoulder. your work force on his arm as his his fingers dancing over your bare cuze and clit, rewarding you with a drawing string of screaming, mind-blowing, seat-soaking semen as you blow down the two-lane highway, the sun and the wind in your tomentum. Its a dream you 'd thought long dead, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. dessert. What will you refer the infant ... ?