Stacy 's ambition
by Wistful

m/F, inc, bunko game, rom, unsafe

Mom gets a second base chance ...

1.

"Stacy Martin ! ”, you again berate yourself in the abstruse recess of your psyche. How did you ever let it get this far ? Until tonight, your only lover since your marriage was your hubby Saint John, attractive in his way, loving after a manner, but perhaps gone a little bland."But !"you again admonish yourself,"that 's no self-justification for this !"as you drive to the golf-club that he suggested for your rendezvous. God ! You even dressed as he asked, right down to your black satin panties, matching satiny bra and bootleg fishnet hosiery."Damn ! If I do n't look like a cocotte now, who does,"you continue remonstrating yourself, but the warm, slick flavour 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 twenty sea mile away. He 'd thought it better to meet in a topographic point where neither of you were known. Reluctantly, quivering in prevision, you agreed."And maledict it ! You 're still quivering ! Ca n't you see this is wrong ? ! Do n't you bang it goes against the church service and the law and even your marriage ?"You tell 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 coming together place, a quaint little bungalow motel, just off the route, with a quiet restaurant and bar and convenient parking in the bottom. Wheeling around the motel role, you see the door to the adjoining club in movement of you. Stopping, setting the brake in your letting, you feel yourself go flushed once again as you check your hair in the mirror"tinker's damn !, but you still take care honest at 36."Its your make or break moment."fountainhead ...,"you say to yourself as you exit the car,"Its now or never,"and you stride forward on trembling branch, grasp the room access hold, and enter the club.

You blush, your breath catches, and you look to beetle off back out as your accounting entry is greeted by howls, hungry wolf tin whistle, and several lewd and repulsive offering from the first 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 articulatio genus, the former toe grazing the level, you anxiously search the small sea of faces for his. Is he here ? Did he brook you up ? Is this a fucking joke ? Just when you 're thinking just how bad an idea this really is, considering retuning abode from all this imbecility, he rears his head from one of the further pool board, hands off his cue, and slowly, purposefully strides towards you, the picture of a rangy outdoors man in washrag, blue jean and iron heel. Your warmness stops when you see the light in his eyes, his warm, wicked grin and his thatch of studiedly unkempt auburn hairsbreadth. You mind a fog, your pulse holla in your ears, your breath coming in gasps, your eyes are only for him. You do n't even hear the hoots of"Never Happen !"or"Not a have a go at it chance in Hell !"from the cowboys dismissing his approach to you. Nothing else topic. He 's here.

Boldly, obscenely, he strides rectify up between your legs, brooch your question in his big hands, and gazes deeply into your centre. Your sum stalls, flicker ; your breath catches again and your jaw bead as he catches your speed lip between his lingua and his own upper lip, worries it a trivial, then bends to give you the kiss you 'd only dreamed of. To the red cent and cheerfulness, 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 pantie, and continues the deep, soul-wrenching kiss. A modest representative in the vertebral column of your mind tries to monish that you 're only woolgather, but the cutting edge of your creative thinker and nitty-gritty knows this is real. Its happening now. He 's here. He 's kissing you in a very populace home, 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 home is still, all oculus on the two of you. In an unaccustomed careen of panache, he cups a hand on your butt, clout you from the chairperson, and with a half-dancing bend, points you both at the door. You do n't even hear the local anesthetic soft touch anymore. Your oculus only for him, his only for you ; your arms over his shoulder, his hand still firmly cupping your butt, you slowly stride out of the place and promontory to the way he 's reserved for you. Another deep, body-shuddering kiss at the movement door, and you 're in the room. 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-colored cooling in a bowl of ice on the small bungalow prorogue beside two snifter. 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 moment, he again clasps you to his body, kisses your lip, your neck, your ears as he handily unties the behind-the cervix knot of your sleeveless red halter, and peels it down below your black satin bra, kissing and nibbling down your shoulder joint and chest, to the very top of your cleavage as he does. Then, stroking your dorsum and shoulder with one hired hand, he traces down your position to the zipper of your black micro-skirt, and in one svelte move, the skirt is suddenly at your ankle. Then, raising your arms, holding both your hand in one of his, he brings your halter back up over your breast, over your head, and off your body as you daintily abuse out of your skirt. He steps back momentarily to take you in. You shiver slightly as you realize you 're standing in front man of him in only your bra, panties, garters, hose and dog."God ! ”, you tell yourself."I 'm a fucking tramper on display."But he steps forward and wipes that icon from your view with another earth-shattering kiss, his fingers stroking your back, his hands cupping and gently squeezing your butt, and then his mouth on your cervix. Your juice are flowing steadily now, and the room stink of feminine sex, a heady scent the does n't escape him, as you see by his level face, his renewed fervency and arousal. Momentarily deliquium, you flush and back up against the wall. He does n't miss it. Before catch your next hint, he 's easily picked you up, carried you the few steps, and gently laid you on the bed.

You start to talk, but he gingerly traces a fingerbreadth over your sassing as he traces your hip cradle and scanty waistcloth with his other hand. Does he have enough hands for all he 's doing ? You 're ecstatic, your trunk trembles, your breath is gasps, you 're flushed and warm from your eyebrow to your nipples, your cunt is a flowing faucet. You thought you knew what making beloved was about, but you 're through the ceiling now, and he has n't even started yet. Its torturing. You want to say so, but you dare not. You might ruin the moment.

You 're on your cover. He sidles up next to you on his side, tracing your grimace, neck and upper berth body with tender, 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's breadth under your panty line, 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 trunk trembles, your potbelly flexes, and your ever-flowing succus change their scent to that of a cleaning lady who wants a cock NOW !, a fact not lost on him.

He turns your pass for another smothering kiss as he undoes the grasp on the front man of your bra, letting the cup fall aside to endanger your ripened globes and blood-stiffened stimulated tit. He smoothly moves to overlay the nearer mamilla with his mouthpiece while his free deal caresses your other. You continue to run and flex."What is fucking WITH you ? ! ”, your intellect shrieks one last time, but your body is putty in his mitt, and he 's gently sculpting a buff out of you. As he continues licking and sucking your tit, his open fingers trace from your titty, down your tum, to your panty top. Your body is already taut, 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 befall. Somewhere in your love-lust fog, your scanty, hose and heels have vanished, along with his boots and jeans. He lies side by side to you, you turn to him, naked consistency to naked body, as it should be, and pass the caresses he gives you with osculation and caresses of your own. You 're in heaven, he 's God, and your trunk yet sizzles and spasm to his touch sensation. You 're helpless in his manus. He kisses your mouth, he nibbles your chin and neck opening, he traces his tongue and fingertips over your breasts, he traces the bony rooftree that is your pelvic sash, until his mouth and both workforce arrive at your aching, swollen pussy. You 're stunned beyond impression at what he does next : the lover 's kiss he gives your pulsing heap is the osculation you only wish your husband gave your backtalk ! You cum. You squeal, You bounce. You shriek. You shudder. And you flood the bed with more of your impatient dear succus. God ! If only we could throw done this sooner ! But ...

When he senses your impatience, he rises over you, stare deeply into your center, and mountain you, giving you his full length in one excruciatingly slow, agonizing stroke, and comes to rest on your body. His weight unit is a ease, his limb engulf you, his humanity fills you, and his rebuke breath in your ear triggers another undulation of pleasure throughout your body. You 've opened the room access. He 's arrive home.

His thick shaft 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. mentation of you, he shifts your status, pulling out of you as he does. Your heart stops. You feel an urgent sense of departure until he has you on your slope, he behind you, and you grasp his cock to work him home again. His coat of arms around you, tracing your torso, cupping and cradling your tit, your headspring on his, his humanness moving inside you with rhythmic persistence, you 're on a cloud. You 've never made dearest like this, but Damned if it is n't great ! As you tense, he grabs your hips and pulling you tighter to him, giving you all he can contact, and you cum again ... and again ... and again. He brings the existent 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 time, but not now ...

His social movement more fickle, his pecker thickening inside you, you know he 's close. Its your grown moment of decision yet. And he helps you make that decision as he again pulls out, lays you on your back, and again climb 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 eubstance glowing, sated, your psyche returning, but taking a second seat to your warmness, in a flashgun you ask yourself"Do you make out him as much as he loves you ?"“ Yes !"“ Would you deny him anything in your power to give him ?"“ No !"“ Are you willing to give birth his baby ... ?"“ Uh ... yes ..."You close your eyes on his gaze, nod your ascent, and you reach for his rump and pull him deeper into you. His breath explodes, his body trembles, he bottoms-out in you and Army of the Pure go. You feel the bass spasming throbbing of his prick as he releases wave upon wave, thick, powerful squirt of of his own lovemaking juice inside you. You cuddle him, you kiss anything you can make, you whisper endearments in his ear, as you wait for his throbbing passion to go down. What a lie with weird prison term to call up 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 glowing of expiation. You trace his ear, he traces the scruff of your cervix. As you lie on the pillow facing him, you make one more decision. You douse the bedside light and pull the covers over you both. As you 're being taken by the wraith of sleep to come, you hear the only material words spoken tonight :"I love you, Mom ..."


3


Ever the early riser, you awaken with a lost scratch line, your chamber is different, 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 close-fitting to the terrific untried man sharing your bed."You made a appointment with your own son, let him screwing you, and even let him CUM inside YOU ! Gawds ! You can still find some of it coming out of you yet. Are you fraught ? 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 a go at it yet how you 're going to do that, but it has to be this dawn if you 're going to forge a bail bond with him. For now, a shower. You got ta clean off the fret and un-mat your sticky snatch before it stinks and glues itself shut. You stroke his chest, give his hammer a gentle clinch ( it pulses in answer ), and head off to the shower bath, leaving him exposed. If that and the noise of the shower do n't heat him, you 'll at least be treated to a delicious visual modality when you come back out.

In the shower, you tell yourself in no unsealed terms that you made a bed last night, and you damned well enjoyed sleeping in it. Son or no, that untried man loves you ; he 's a damned good shag, 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 do sure of him. Will he ... ?

You come out of the bath wrapped in a orotund downy lily-white towel knotted between your breasts, and release to see him waiting his own turn. You both flush. He kisses you as deeply as you remember from concluding nighttime. He 's still here. You playfully tickle his costa, and stroke a fingernail down his semi-erect putz. He rips the towel from your body, 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 companion tune you can just hear over the shower, you decide to overstretch your big accelerator out of your bag - a minuscule, clingy blue-gray tube dress designed to leave nothing to the imagination, and strategically vagabond it onto your body, ensuring with a quick glance in the vanity mirror, that the go inches of your bare pubic bone are still visible from a distance. If you 're going to slut for him, may as well rend out all your own Newmarket, hm ? You studiedly have your rachis to the bathroom door when he opens it, your helping hand just studiedly on your chick as though to finish rolling it down the hold up 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-mast. bet on on !

He takes you in with one up and down glance, you both flush, His cock rises, he cocks an eyebrow, you lick your mouth, , and he 's on you ! Pinning you to the wall, he plants his now fully aroused rooster at your front door, and slams in !"Owwwwwww !"He 's pulled in some hair and a lip in with his lurch, 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 erotic love,"this is raw, fleshly passion playing itself out on your bodies. You had to cognise if this would bump ... You ? You 're in pain, you 're in pleasure, you 're in high temperature ! 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 displace. You ca n't pass off. You flood your legs and the carpeting beneath you with your pip-squeak ! Ohhh God ! You NEVER did THAT before ! UhhheeEEEEE ! ! !, you wail, as he slams into you one final clip and let loose his own pulsing gusher inside you ! Your juice mingle down both your legs as he breaks the kiss to again gaze softly into your eyes. Love, sated passion, confusion, embarrassment, joy all vie for infinite on his tender, young face. You disabuse his confusion with a long, loving kiss of your own as you remove his member from your consistence and casually, intentionally wipe his last trickle on your annulus hem, before doffing it and guiding you both back to the cascade. You know you 'll be wearing that tube dress all day today, and that it 'll be good for at to the lowest degree two more boffs, maybe more ?, before you get wherever it is you 're going. God ! How slutty is that ? !

After breakfast in the tiny dining compartment, you back in your cum-stained vacuum tube clothes, of track with no undies, you check out of your room, leaving your rental key fruit with the shop assistant for the company to come reclaim it. Your card will cover it, of grade. You hop into his restored Graeco-Roman convertible, now fully understanding his penchant for the bench seat and center seat belt of those elderly railroad car, You smile as the wind catches your hair. You lean your back against him, his arm over your berm. your hands on his arm as his his fingers dancing over your bare cuze and clitoris, rewarding you with a string of screaming, mind-bending, seat-soaking cums as you blow down the two-lane main road, the sun and the wind in your whisker. Its a aspiration you 'd thought long dead, but that your own teenage son revived and fulfilled. confection. What will you key out the babe ... ?