Mother-in-law gets boned_(2)

My mother-in-law, Margaret, officially, but Marge or Margie

to most people, and I always got along fairly well. I

treated her decent and liked her cooking and her daughter

was happy with me and I guess that was what she cared most

about.

She had a small apartment on the first floor of the same

building occupied by the family business. There were two

bedrooms and a smaller apartment on the second floor and a

quite large loft area on the third floor. When my wife,

Glynda, and I were there we stayed in the small apartment.

Our two daughters would use the separate bedrooms if they

came down.

My wife’s dad had died a couple of years before and I don’t

think many people missed him much. He didn’t treat anybody

very well, least of all his wife, son, and two daughters,

and nobody’s cooking was as good as his, and although he

often said he could cook something better, he never

volunteered to do it.

We were down at “Mom’s” for vacation. There wasn’t much to

do in the little fishing and logging town, but it was close

to the beaches and the mountains. Glynda and I would go out

on the beach late in the afternoon and watch the sun go down

and then build a little fire and fuck for a couple hours on

a big blanket and then go home and soak in the steam bath

for a couple of hours and fuck some more. Or we would go for

a hike up in the mountains in the morning and then take a nap

and fuck in some grassy meadow for most of the afternoon.

You can tell there was one thing uppermost in our minds.

The steam bath was actually a Finnish style sauna. A very hot,

very dry heat, very little steam at all. Glynda’s dad had

built it in the back of the factory and it had become popular

with nearly everyone. In fact my oldest daughter was conceived

in it, near as we could figure.

Glynda and her mom were only about 20 years apart in age and

were mistaken for sisters quite often. Their size and build

were very similar except that Margie was a little bustier

and a little hippier with a few more wrinkles. And while

Glynda frosted her hair because it was fashionable, Marge

did it to hide some gray and look younger. It was difficult

to tell them apart without looking really close. And therein

lies the tale.

I had been over at the neighborhood tavern for a few hours

that afternoon, drinking beer and visiting with a few guys

that I knew from when we had lived there years ago. It was

dinner time, and I was a little tipsy, and also horny from

watching the barmaids running around in their short skirts

and low-cut blouses for several hours. I walked into the

downstairs apartment to see what the prospects for dinner

were. There were a couple of pots gently steaming on the stove

and my wife was standing at the sink fixing some lettuce and

veggies for salad. I walked up behind her, put my left arm

around her and squeezed her tit, and reached down in

front of her with my right hand and cupped her mons and

pussy and massaged it a little. She jumped a little and said,

“Ooohh!”

I nuzzled and nibbled the side of her neck and said, “What’s

for dinner, besides you?”

She was breathing a little hard and leaning against me like

she was having trouble standing up. “Ohh … Unnn … I …

I … think th.. th.. that Glllyyyndaaaa …. is . up ..

stairs ..,” she gasped.

Well, I started noticing things then. Her breast was a

little bit larger and softer than Glynda’s and her tummy

wasn’t quite as flat, and her mons felt a little higher, and

then I opened my eyes and noticed what was looped over the ear I

had just begun to lick and nibble on. Metal glass frames!

Oops! Gramma wore glasses with metal frames and Glynda wore

plastic! Mea culpa!

I unwound my arms from around her and helped her stand up

straight. As she leaned against the sink counter I said,

“Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you were Glynda.”

“That’s …. all … right,” she said, gasping out one word

to the breath.

“See you at dinner!” I said as I made my exit, stage left.

I went upstairs and found my wife in an easy chair in the

sitting room of the little apartment, reading the very

skinny local paper.

“How was your visit with your buddies?” she asked. “Are the

barmaids over there just as sexy as ever?”

I gave her a brief sketch of the afternoon at the local

watering hole and then related what had transpired with her

mother in the kitchen.

“My god, Honey, you probably came close to giving Mom a

heart attack! I’m pretty sure she hasn’t had any sex but her

hand since Dad got sick before he died. And maybe not for a

while before then.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “She didn’t really object to my attention

either. In fact she sounded a little disappointed when I

left and came upstairs.”

“Well,” said Glynda, “You have given me an adequate amount

of screwing the last couple of days. You want to try fucking

Mom tonight?”

Many guys would have fallen over if their wife said anything

like that, but it wasn’t totally unexpected. We aren’t major

league swingers or swappers and we don’t have what I would

call an open marriage. We are 99% or more satisfied with our

sex lives and seldom actively pursue other sexual partners.

However, we realize that there are those times and

circumstances when an attraction develops that just can’t be

ignored. We have an agreement that we discuss each event

before consummation and we don’t have any liaisons with other

people in our own home, unless it is by prior arrangement

and agreement. We do have an escape clause though. That is

if there are hands on organs and the clothes are half off,

do it, and we will discuss it later!

So, I wasn’t too surprised at what my wife said. “My, how

you talk, young lady!” I chuckled. “I didn’t realize I had

fucked you to a frazzle.”

“I said an adequate amount, not a sufficient amount. And I

was thinking about a quickie before dinner. But, since there

may be some extramarital hanky panky tonight you can just

eat my pussy for an appetizer. If you get Mom for dessert you

may need all your spunk and energy for her!”

With that, Glynda raised her hips and slipped off her slacks

and panties, slumped down in the chair and threw her legs

over the arms of it. “Come and get it, big boy,” she said,

reaching down and spreading her cunt lips.

Well, this is about Margie, my mother-in-law, so I’ll fast

forward a few hours.

After dinner the three of us went into the living room for

coffee and dessert, then sat around and watched a couple of

reruns on TV. Margie was sitting sort of sideways on the

couch reading the paper, I was sitting in the easy chair

glancing at some woman’s magazine that should have been x-rated

because of the pictures, and Glynda was sitting on the floor

between my legs. She had been rubbing her head in my crotch

and running her hands up and down my legs all evening. I was

getting a little heated, and I noticed that Marge was taking

it all in and squirming around a little like she had an itch

that needed scratching.

Glynda got up and stretched. “I think I will go up to bed,”

she said. “That was a good dinner, Mom. It is making me

sleepy!” Then she turned to me and said, “Honey, you can

stay down here and keep Mom company if you want. I am just

going to go to sleep.” And she leaned over and gave me a

little kiss with a lot of tongue and put her hand in my

crotch and gave my cock and balls a little squeeze.

“OK, Honey,” I replied. “I’ll be up later.”

As Glynda left the apartment I noticed that she did not

completely close the door into the hallway. “That little

snoop,” I thought. “She is going to eavesdrop to see what

goes on down here!”

I stood up and moved over to the couch and asked Marge, “Can

I sit here with you?” as I moved in behind her.

“Sure,” she said, as she moved over a little to give me a

little more room.

I sat down behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I

would like to talk about this afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s OK,” she said. “It isn’t necessary.”

“I don’t think you understand,” I said as I moved a little

closer to her. “I enjoyed what happened, and I don’t regret

it at all. And I think that you may have enjoyed it a little

too.”

“Ww.. w.. Well,” she stammered, as she wiggled around a

little. “I was very surprised. It did feel a little …” she

paused. ” … different. I haven’t been … uh … touched

by a man in a long time.” She sighed and leaned back against

the couch.

“I know,” I said. “I imagine you are really lonely.” I put

both arms around her shoulders and hugged her back against

me. I rested the side of my head against hers and said

softly, “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “An old woman like me can’t

find anybody but old men around here.”

“I wasn’t talking about around here,” I said as I hugged her

a little tighter.