Emily came to me with her request to marry Scott in November, hoping to have the wedding in June in time for a tropical honeymoon before she and her new husband headed off to graduate school. One of the benefits of having been married three times was that I was left with three rather hefty settlements, meaning I really didn't have to work if I chose not to. But I enjoyed working and so, with the money I had coming in from three stupid and cheating ex-husbands, decided to open a dress shop. I do very well at the shop and cater primarily to upper-level clients. Not one of my garments is of low quality and the women who shop here are regular customers who know I provide them with items they would normally have to drive to New York, Boston, or some other large city where the items I sell are more readily available. Over the course of the years, I've developed quite a special group of customers. But I'll explain more about that later.
As for me, well, I'm no spring chicken. I'm fifty-four years old and I'm tall for a woman, standing over six feet, five inches tall when I wear high heels. Even without the heels, I'm still six feet, one inch in height. My hair is long and blonde, hanging as far as my waist. My blue eyes can stop a man at a hundred paces - or so I've been told - but it's neither my hair nor my eyes that draws a man's attention to me. No, I'm aware enough to know that it's my chest, my wide ass, and the way I dress that causes men - and some women too - to direct their attention to me and wish they could spend just one hour in bed with me. You see, I sport a 38dd set of tits that even at my age have absolutely no sag in them. Size five panties cover my ass, and never - and I mean never - will you find what I call "old women" underwear covering my ass. Usually, it's black silk that I wear to cover my ass and pussy, when I wear underwear at all. I prefer the sensation of a cool or warm breeze blowing up my skirt and caressing my naked pussy. I often wonder what my customers or a man I might meet in a bar would think if they knew I wasn't wearing anything over my cunt.
In addition to the heels and panties, you will rarely find me not wearing black stockings. Seamed or no seams, it doesn't matter. And I never wear pantyhose unless it's some type of garment emergency. I prefer stockings because I don't need to discard them whenever I finger myself. And then, as I promised to describe, there are my tits.
When I was a younger girl in high school, I recall being laughed at by the guys because I was, literally, flat chested. Sure, I had a pretty face, but no matter what I did, the guys I wanted to go out with looked at me as if I were a really good looking guy. So, for most of my high school and college years, I was one lonely lady. It was after my second divorce that I could finally afford breast implants, and believe me, I couldn't get them soon enough. Initially, I wanted huge, mammoth titties, but I allowed the cosmetic surgeon to convince me that mountain-sized tits could later cause back problems. So, we compromised on the 38dd size, and I'm happy I did. My titties are perfectly round, sensitive, and I like the way they fill my bra. Whenever I go to the beach, so many men stare at my chest that I often see their wives getting angry with them. The only drawback is the small, three inch surgical scar left under each titty where the surgeon made his cut to insert the breast implants. But to be honest: by the time a man or a woman notices that under titty scars, it means I'm in some type of erotic situation I want to be in. So, I guess having scars under my tits isn't really a drawback at all.
So there you have a physical description of me in a nutshell. Now, let's talk about my mental status. I'm blunt but honest. I'm caring but believe everyone needs to make their own way in this world. I'll give you the shirt off my back but don't ever cross me or lie to me. If you work for me, I expect you to earn your pay but I understand that from time to time, you need time for your family. I will speak my mind and if I believe you have some under-the-surface intention that might harm or do damage to my family, I will put you to a test. If I don't like the results, you're gone out of mine and my daughter's life.
But I'm also human and like everyone else, I too have needs. No, I'm not talking about food and shelter needs, I'm talking about sexual and physical needs. I love the touch of a hand caressing my skin, and have no worries if the hand belongs to a male or a female. I've eaten as much pussy as I've had my own cunt eaten. I've sucked as much cock as I've sucked a woman's tits. I go both ways, and have decided that at my age, I'm much too old to let life go by without enjoying every single day. I love to fuck, and if doing so means I simply hike up my skirt in one of my shop's dressing rooms or even the restroom of a bar, so be it. I love spontaneity and find that spur-of-the moment sex is best. But, I also enjoy soft, sensual sex as well. So you can see that I'm a very diverse person. I guess that's why I like myself so much. After reading this, if you decide to see me as a whore, understand that I have no problem with that: We each have our own idea of other people, and I have no control over how you think.
Then there's my shop. I decided long ago to open a shop that catered to plus-sized women. I wouldn't say my customers are overweight, but they're not thinly built models either who look as if they haven't had a meal in several weeks. No, my customers are women who've gained a few pounds over the years as the result of childbirth, lack of exercise, or for whatever reason. I make no judgment and they know that. I offer them large-sized dressing rooms with comfortable furniture and small refrigerators stocked with juice, water, soda, and, if they prefer, champagne. I have so many repeat customers I can't count them all. So, all in all, I do very, very well for myself and my daughter.
But honestly, my dressing rooms offer me something as much as they do my customers. I know they expect privacy, and the closed, locked doors do just that whenever a customer enters the small room to try on a garment. But what my customers don't know or do not detect are the multiple hidden video cameras located at various strategic spots around each dressing room. From my office, I can watch with great sexual interest as an attractive woman enters the room, disrobes, and stands either nearly naked or perfectly nude while she tries on a dress or blouse. There have been many times when I've fingered my pussy while watching some beautiful woman remove her clothes and I am granted views of their tits, their asses, cunts, or whatever. As soon as they leave, however, I delete the videos. I have no desire for the videos to get out, and to ruin someone's reputation. Especially mine.
There was one incident where I as caught completely off guard by a beautiful, tall, blonde haired woman. She entered the dressing room with several dresses, most of them miniskirts. One by one, she removed items of her outer clothing until she stood with her back to the camera, dressed only in a pair of black panties and six inch stiletto heels. Even from the angle I had at the time, it was evident her tits were at least 44dd. Slowly, she removed her panties, and turned to face the mirror located behind her. You can imagine my surprise when, from between her legs, she pulled out a cock that had to have measured at least ten inches. The meaty shaft was thick and lined with veins that made the tube seem enormous. Whoever she was, this beautiful transsexual stroked the cock until it became hard. Then, she slid one of the miniskirts up her shapely legs until it barely covered her well-toned ass. As if she knew she was being filmed, the transsexual stroked her cock from under the miniskirt, seemingly testing her ability to flog her meat while still wearing the very short skirt. Or, I also guessed, perhaps she was attempting to discover if her hard cock was noticeable while the very tight fitting and extremely short skirt covered her well-shaped ass. Whoever this mystery lady was, she continued to stroke her meat shamelessly, her fisted hand flaying at the meaty shaft until her eyes closed and she erupted in a flood of hot crème, the globs of come landing on the mirror and the floor between her high-heeled feet. As she came, as her mouth emitted the sounds of a powerful orgasm, it took all I had in me not to rush to the dressing room and fuck the transsexual there in the small room. In this case, I broke my own rule and decided to keep this particular video: I often replay it in the privacy of my office or home while fingering my cunt.
But back to my future son-in-law. As soon as Emily introduced him to me, I felt two emotions. First, because he wanted to marry my daughter and I was finishing up the proceedings for my third divorce, I had my suspicions. I asked myself if he was good enough to marry my little girl. The last thing I wanted for my daughter was to be hurt or taken advantage of like I was. But there was something else about Scott as well. Let me tell you, he is one handsome young man. I mean, you should see the huge bulge in his swim trunks whenever he and Emily use our pool. There's no doubt that this good looking man has at least a nine inch tube of angry meat concealed inside his trousers. Scott makes sure to work out at the local gym several times a week and the result is that he is in incredibly good physical shape. His chest is broad, his stomach is flat, and his legs seem powerful enough to drive a train. Overall, he's good to my little girl, but he's still a man with a cock: and I don't trust men with their cocks until I put them to the test. By now, you can see where I'm going with this.
I can't tell you the number of times we've had Scott as our guest and I finger my cunt after he leaves. I fantasize that Scott is jamming his powerful cock deep and hard inside my pussy, the long shaft penetrating my golden-colored cunt forest, then sliding easily between my outstretched cunt lips. I imagine my feet, encased in high heels, high over my head, the pencil-thin stems pointing to the ceiling. I imagine me calling out to Scott, begging him to fuck me, screaming from the pleasure as his meat plunges so deeply into my pussy that I can feel the head slamming against the innermost part of my pussy. And when he comes in my dreams, I drink the pearl-colored goo, relishing on the salty taste, and hoping that my future son-in-law and I will fuck again soon. Very soon. But as I said, those are fantasies and not reality.
It wasn't long after Emily and Scott announced their engagement, however, that I was able to put Scott's fidelity to the test. He is such a helpful young man that he often comes to my shop to see if he can help out by carrying boxes, repairing something minor, or just whatever. One particular Saturday morning, I'd asked Scott to come to the shop to repair a wall that I'd accidently pushed a doorknob into. Of course, Scott said he'd be glad to help. What that meant was that I had to rush into one of the dressing rooms and push a broom handle into the wall. After working the handle a bit, I had a good six-inch opening in the wall that I was sure would be easy to repair. But I didn't stop there. Oh, no. There was more I needed to do to test Scott's loyalty to my daughter.
In addition to the hole I created with the broom handle, I also punctured the wall lining the dressing room on the other side of the wall with a small pen. The hole was disguised by a small poster, and expertly hid the light coming from the adjacent room. So unless they knew the hole was there, anyone using the dressing room would have no idea they were being spied upon. Happy with my plan, I called Scott and described the need for a repair job.
My shop is so popular that on certain days - such as Saturdays - I really have to have my clients make appointments to try on the garments I sell. Fortunately for me, on this particular Saturday, Mrs. Rose was scheduled to arrive and try on several garments I'd ordered specially for her. Now let me describe Mrs. Rose: She's of average height, has beautiful, long brown hair, a near perfect ass, and legs that won't quit. Never have I seen her arrive at my shop wearing anything but super high heels. But it's her tits that cause people to notice Mrs. Rose. A year ago, she too underwent breast augmentation surgery and when she returned from the clinic in Arizona, two 44dd sized tits graced her chest. Since then, Mrs. Rose makes sure to display as much cleavage and as much of her new titties as she can legally get away with, and more than once, I've diddle my clit while watching her undress in secret. I hope someday to find a way to slide my tongue over her tits and hairy, hairy cunt. But for right now, it's Scott's interest - or lack of interest - in Mrs. Rose that I am most interested in.
Scott arrived just moments before Mrs. Rose. After a quick explanation of the problem, I left Scott alone in the dressing room to take on the wall repair. Moments later, I escorted Mrs. Rose to the adjacent dressing room with several garments in our hands. "Stay as long as you please, Mrs. Rose," I said sweetly and loudly to make certain Scott heard my voice through the dressing room wall. My next move was to move as quickly as possible to my office. I locked the door behind me, powered up my computer, and brought up the image of dressing room number three on my screen. Splitting the screen, I was now able to view both the dressing room where Scott was working and the room where Mrs. Rose was about to unknowingly provide my future son-in-law with a show he might never forget.
By this time, Mrs. Rose had removed her blouse and skirt and was standing near a small table wearing nothing more than a bra, panties, and high heels, all black. To say that it seemed as if Mrs. Rose was seconds away from her tits bursting from her bra was an understatement. She stepped back from the mirror, placed both hands under her still bra-encased tits, and began to lift the huge melons several inches upward. I was certain the silky bra material would burst any second, but the garment held, trudging on like a dependable soldier. Looking at the right side of the screen, I saw Scott working away at preparing the materials he needed to repair the wall. Evidently, he had not yet noticed the pencil sized peephole I'd placed in the wall earlier.
As if I'd written a script, Mrs. Rose released her tits and stepped back, grasping a skirt she'd brought into the dressing room in her right hand. It was then that she bumped the table and a bottle of unopened water fell to the floor. Scott picked up on the noise, the commotion causing him to lift his head in questioning the source of the noise. It was then, to my absolute joy that he peered into the larger hole. Scott peered into the larger hole and with raised eyebrows, finally discovered the smaller hole. I saw him extend his head closer to the wall, his focus now like a laser on the opening that provided him with a view of the dressing room beside him. And an unobstructed view of Mrs. Rose as she undressed.
Turning away from the wall with the peephole, Mrs. Rose bent forward at the waist to retrieve the water bottle from the floor. As she bent forward, her panties slid upward, exposing half of her left ass cheek. Even I was becoming more interested as each second passed, eager to see how Scott would react. Mrs. Rose's semi-covered ass lifted and dropped as she juggled the bottle and returned it to the table. Meanwhile, Scott's eye remained pressed to the wall as Mrs. Rose grasped the bra that I'd specially ordered for her.
If you've never seen a 44dd bra, let me tell you it is one huge garment. The bra cups seem large enough to hold a gallon of water each, and the straps are massive. The clasps used to ensure the bra remains closed are wide and contain enough hooks that it seems the maker used a good quarter pound of metal or more. The shoulder straps are also huge: they have to be to hold titties that can weigh up to five pounds each. Turning now toward the peephole, Mrs. Rose placed the bra on another small table and began to wiggle herself out of the bra she'd worn to the store. Okay, Scott, I said to myself. Here comes your first test.
I'd never spied on Mrs. Rose before and after viewing this video, I was sorry I hadn't. Slowly, she drew the bra downward until each of her gargantuan tits was in plain sight if my hidden cameras. I also knew they were in sight of Scott's hidden peephole. From the camera's perspective in Scott's dressing room, I could easily see whether or not he had grasped his cock or not. So far, he hadn't. But he hadn't taken his eyes from the peephole, either. Now looking at the left screen, I saw Mrs. Rose had completely removed the bra and was standing topless in the center of the room. One again, she placed her hands under her bare titties and admired the globes in the mirror. A smile crossed her lips, just as it did with Scott. Still, however, his hands remained away from his cock, much to my displeasure.
To my surprise, rather than slide her tits into the new bra, Mrs. Rose instead slid her ass out of her panties, turned back to the small table where her new garments lay, and retrieved a pair of black panties. She held the lacy panties up, admiring them from close up, before sliding them over her high-heeled feet, up her shapely legs, and over her wide ass. Moments later, she had the bra in place as well, and began to adjust the straps. All the while, Scott's eyes were glued to the peephole, but his hands remained clear of his cock. Sure, he remained pinned to the peephole for several more moments, but he never did anything about it. As for me, I could literally feel cunt juices seeping from my pussy and soaking my inner thighs. By now, Mrs. Rose was dressed and seemed satisfied with the garments she'd ordered. Scott went about the business of repairing the hole in the wall. Moments later, Mrs. Rose left the dressing room, followed by Scott who actually entered the dressing room formerly occupied by Mrs. Rose and repaired the small peephole! I was amazed at my future son-in-law's ability to look ahead and to take care of matters for me.
But I also have to admit that I was both saddened and elated that Scott never went for his meat: Sad because I wanted to view his meaty shaft, but also glad because it meant he did not give into the temptation of another woman. Okay, there is hope for you, Scott, I said to myself. Maybe, just maybe, you will be a good husband to my daughter.
But during the drive home, something about Scott's loyalty still nagged at me. Okay, I reasoned: he'd watched a sexy woman undress but had done nothing about it. How else could I be sure he would never cheat on Emily? I mean, watching a woman undress through a peephole is really the same as watching a woman in a film take off her clothes: You can watch all you want but you can't touch. You can't to anything about it. There had to be some way I could put Scott to test again to determine if he was a cheater or not. But how?
And then, it hit me. I knew the best way possible to test Scott's loyalty, and while my idea was extreme, it would serve two purposes. First, my idea would tell me whether or not Scott could handle being around a sexy woman. I'd know in an instant whether or not my son-in-law could or could not restrain himself from fucking another woman despite being engaged to my daughter. And secondly, I'd know whether or not Scott would, in the future, ever be tempted to fuck another woman, especially one who was dressed in little more than stockings, heels, panties and a bra.
And if you haven't figured it out by now, you know that the woman I plan to use to test Scott's loyalty is me. As I made my way home, I created a plan, one I was certain would work. As I worked through the various steps of my plan, I realized the first, most important step was to get Emily away from the house. An idea came to me: She needed to see her father before she married. "Yes, that's it," I said aloud to my empty car. "I'll pay for Emily to fly to Kansas to visit her father." I was certain Bob, Emily's father would enjoy having his daughter as a weekend guest. True enough, ten minutes later after ending my call to Bob, he confirmed what I believed: he wanted to see his little girl before she married. Okay, that step was set. Now, how to get myself alone with Scott. "I know: I'll invite him to dinner," I again said aloud, proud of myself for coming up with several ideas so quickly.
But there remained one final problem. Having dinner with Scott was one thing: But how could I convince him to join me in my bed? How could I convince him to fuck me? I mean, sure, I see myself as a sexy, vibrant woman. But like I said: I'm fifty-four years old. What if Scott has no interest in fucking his mother-in-law? What if he had no interest in fucking older women? I mean, sure: he'd resisted the urge to jack off while he spied on Mrs. Rose during the dressing room incident. But what if he was presented with an actual body? What if he found himself in a situation where a hot woman wanted to fuck him? Now that he was engaged, would he give into his natural, animalistic urges? With these and many other questions, I knew there was only one way to obtain the information I desperately needed. "Oh, Scott," I said aloud with a wide, beaming grin on my face. "You have no idea what's coming your way, baby." Now, it was just a matter of making all the arrangements and making sure all the pieces of my plan fell neatly into place.
Now, I know what you're thinking. You're asking yourself why I would ever test my future son-in-law's loyalty with my own pussy. I mean, certainly, a son-in-law can turn down his mother-in-law, right? Well, in most cases, I would agree with you, but you've never seen me naked or when I'm in the mood for sex. When I want to fuck, I am like a shark: That's all I want, all I focus on, and fucking takes over my mind. Maybe I'm a sex addict, maybe not. It's just that I believed that once Scott believed he could have me, the question of would he or wouldn't he fuck me would help me decide whether or not he would be faithful to Emily. To me, that was a simple enough equation that could be easily answered.
While Emily was thrilled with the idea of visiting her father, Scott was less enthused about being separated from her for a week. I was able to convince Scott that spending time with me would help to persuade me that he really was the man for my daughter. "And besides, Scott," I said as the three of us ate dinner that evening. "I can be fun, even at my age." The comment made Emily and Scott laugh, and it was then I knew my plan was at least starting out successfully. On Friday, Scott and I dropped Emily off at the airport and phase two of my plan went into action.
Phase two involved minor action on my part but would, I hoped, place Scott in a position where his actions would tell me how the evening would go. I asked Scott to come inside for a drink before he went to his house to shower and dress for dinner. "Pour us each a drink," I said over my shoulder as I made my way up the stairs to my bedroom. Once there, I quickly discarded my bra, and changed into a very low cut blouse that hardly did anything to conceal the massive line of cleavage between my tits. I was certain my nipples were hard as well, and visible through the thin material. As I entered the den where Scott waited for me with the drinks, it was easy to see his eyes bulge from their sockets once they made contact with the sight of my nearly naked titties. "Don't get up, baby," I said as I leaned over at the waist and gave Scott a long, luscious look at my tits which, because of the change in body position, now hung suspended low under my chest and provided him with an unobstructed view inside my blouse. Again, Scott's eyes widened as he focused on my stimulated nipples, and while I desperately wanted to grab him and fuck him, I needed to know if he would make the first move. This is a test, Lizzie, I said silently. Scott has to make the first move.
Sometimes, I can be mean spirited, especially if one of my ex-husbands is involved. I really didn't mean to tip the scales in my favor, but Scott seemed cemented to the sofa where he sat and so, I decided to make another move that would give me an even better idea of his fidelity. He returned with the second round of drinks, and as I accepted the glass from his hand, I "accidently" allowed a portion of the drink to spill out onto my barely-covered tits. "Oh, my!" I screamed as the ice-cold beverage spread over my right tit and caused the nipple to become even more stimulated. "Fuck, that is cold!" I moaned as I began to wipe away at the wet spot on my blouse. "Baby, would you get a towel from the kitchen?" I asked Scott. He immediately jumped up from the sofa and returned a quick moment later. Pretending to be naïve, I said, "You wouldn't mind just blotting the towel over my shirt would you, baby?"
Now, I'm no fool and neither are you. You know exactly what I was up to. Like a good son-in-law, Scott did exactly as I asked, blotting the stain gently rather than rubbing the brown liquid into the fabric. I made sure, however, that each time Scott's cloth-covered hand touched my tit that I arched my back, the move pushing my firm 38dd tits upward, closer to Scott's face. For a long moment, the twenty-three year old bachelor stared at my tit, and I was sure he would jam his hand inside my blouse and man handle the melon inside. But he didn't and to be honest, I wasn't sure I was happy or sad. I mean, sure I was glad he wasn't taking my bait. But by now, my cunt was so fucking wet that I was sure I was leaving a damp spot on the sofa under my pussy. After one more moment, I told Scott I was sure he'd gotten the stain from my blouse. Moments later, he drove away, informing me he'd return in two hours for our dinner date. Phase three of my plan had begun.
I knew Scott would return wearing khaki pants, a polo shirt of some color, and a matching black blazer. If he was anything, Scott knew how to dress well. But I know how to dress too and I went all out to dress in a manner that I knew would catch Scott's attention. After my shower, I carefully laid out each garment I knew could cause Scott to want me. Wrapped only in a towel, I looked over the items I'd laid on the bed prior to stepping into the shower. And what an array it was. I allowed the towel to fall to the floor, and began the process of dressing for the evening.
First came the stockings, the silk expensive and clinging to my well-shaped legs like a second skin. As I sat on my bed with my naked ass pressing into the bedcover, I extended the right leg, slipped the rolled up tube over my well-manicured and red-painted toes, and worked the stocking upward until it tightly hugged my upper thigh. Placing my hands on each side of my thigh, I ran both hands downward, making sure to iron out any wrinkles. I repeated the process on my left leg, loving the sensation of pure silk against my skin. Because my cunt bush is so thick, each time my fingers neared my pussy, it was inevitable that they make accidental and semi-contact with my cunt hairs. And each time they did, I inhaled sharply, stimulated by the nearness of my fingers to my pussy and my clit. When I think back on that moment, however, I know now the contact between my fingers and my forest of cunt hair wasn't accidental: no, it was purely intentional. Stepping away from the bed, I slipped my feet into patent leather, five-inch high heels, the shoe's shiny surface reflecting upward. "I wonder if you can see my pussy in the reflection?" I asked myself aloud, speaking to no one and giggling over my silliness. For several moments, I strutted about the room in the stockings and heels, loving the way I appeared in the full length mirror.
With each leg covered now by a silk stocking, it was time now to cover my pussy. I'd chosen my favorite pair of panties to conceal my cunt, a black, nearly invisible thong that always slipped between my cunt lips and stimulated my clit. The thong immediately slid into my cunt, causing me again to intake my breath sharply. Voices were screaming in my head now, begging me to diddle my clit, begging me to jam the dildo I kept in the bedside table in to my cunt. But I knew I had to be strong and so, despite my intense, burning desires, continued with the dressing process.
Next came the bra. Each 38dd tit went inside a bra that was really a bra in name only. This particular titty holder did nothing to provide my titties with support: it was designed to catch a man's attention. The nipples were easily visible and the cups dipped so low, it was a wonder they held anything at all. Each areole was almost visible along the edge of the lace cups, and I knew that if matters went so far that Scott could see me in the bra, then surely his loyalty to my daughter would be tested. The front-loading bra clasped shut and I had only the skirt and blouse remaining.
The black skirt was so tight I asked myself if the wideness of my ass would tear it apart at the seams. I experienced a small bit of difficulty closing the clasp, but then, my plan didn't call for me to be wearing it very long, anyway. Looking down, through my titty cleavage, I saw the black skirt contrasting nicely with the stockings. Finally, I wrapped my upper torso in a purple-colored blouse, making sure to leave all but the bottom two buttons opened. I knew the sight of my half-opened blouse and black bra would test Scott's ability to control himself. A splash of perfume, a spread of thick, red lipstick across my mouth, and I was ready. "Come on, Scott," I said to the empty room. "Give it your best shot."
The plan was for Scott and me to drive to dinner soon after his return to my house. But I had no intention of leaving the house, actually. At least not until after I'd thoroughly tested his devotion to my daughter. If he was able to restrain himself, then we'd have nothing more than an intimate dinner between a future mother and son in law. But if he gave into his manly needs, well, then who knew what would happen or how far we'd go?
Soon after I completed dressing, I heard Scott's car in the driveway, and immediately, my heart began to beat wildly. I lingered upstairs in my bedroom until I heard the sound of Scott entering the house through the front door. He called out my name, seeking my location in the house. "I'll be right there, Scott!" I yelled through the opened bedroom door. Turning to the full length mirror, I made sure the blouse was opened enough to display the long line of cleavage as well as both black lace bra cups. A quick tug on each stocking, and I was ready. Facing myself in the mirror, "Okay, Lizzie," I said aloud. "It's show time." Yes, I looked like a whore, and maybe that's what I am, but conflicting thoughts were flooding through my brain and while I was dual focused on determining Scott's faithfulness or his lack of any ability to stop himself when confronted with a woman like me. Making my way across the room on the five-inch heels, I was glad the carpet muffled the sound of my footsteps. Now, all I needed was for Scott to be waiting for me at the foot of the steps. I had an entrance to make, and I wanted to make sure he watched me as I descended the stairs, one sexy step at a time.
A million doubts screamed through my mind as I made my way to the stairwell. I knew I could back out of my plan now and simply convince myself that Scott would be loyal to Emily. I knew I could turn and change out of the body-revealing clothing I was wearing and slip into something more conservative. But to be honest, it was one simple thing that propelled me down the hallway and toward the top of the stairs: desire. That's right, simple, raw sexual desire for Scott. By now, the fires burning in my cunt heated my inner thighs and I knew without a doubt that there was no turning back now. The test was on. The rustling sound of the silk stockings as my thighs rubbed together caused sensations in my cunt that made me believe without a doubt that testing Scott now while Emily was away was the right thing to do. Two seconds later, I arrived at the top of the stairs, looking down into the foyer where my well-dressed future son-in-law waited for me by the front door.
It was impossible to not laugh aloud when Scott saw me and his eyes widened to resemble dinner plates. I'd never dressed this provocatively in front of him before, and while this whole scheme was designed to test his loyalty, I have to admit to feeling proud of the way he seemed perfectly incapable of taking his eyes off me as I descended the stairs, one sexy step at a time. But so far, nothing had happened, and I still had half the staircase to cover before I would be anywhere near Scott's body. I don't know: perhaps I was wishing Scott would rush up the stairs, remove my clothing and fuck me on the staircase. But he didn't, instead choosing to remain glued to just inside the front door. But there was no mistaking the expression in his eyes: he was impressed with his future mother-in-law as I made my way down each individual step.
I purposely extended each step downward, allowing the spiked stem of my high heels to come to a full rest upon each wooden step as I made my way down the semi-winding stairs, making sure the hem of my skirt rode upward somewhat with each careful placement of my high heeled feet. I wasn't sure if the lace tops of my stockings would be visible to Scott by the time I reached where he stood, but I was certain he had somewhat of an unrestricted view up my skirt as I strode toward him. Maybe he'll see the thong barely covering your pussy, Lizzie, I said to myself. If he could see my cunt, I asked myself if he'd also be able to tell that my pussy was dripping wet by now. As I made my way to the bottom-most step, I realized something had come over me: Yes, I was carrying out a plan to test my future son-in-law's dedication to my daughter, which, in reality, I had no doubts of. But more than testing Scott's fidelity, I also wanted him to do one thing. I wanted him to fuck me. Or, I wanted to fuck him. Either way, I did not care.
So, in just that short a time, matters had changed. Yes, I wanted to ensure my daughter married a faithful man, but I found that I also wanted this young man to fuck me. If Scott and I screwed, he could still marry Emily and he and I would forever have a secret about a very special night. If Scott and I didn‘t fuck, then I'd be reassured that my daughter would be happy in life with this very special man who had the amazing ability to turn away from a woman whose sexual interest in him was obvious and strong.
And then, finally, after what seemed to be a mile long walk, I arrived where Scott stood by the closed front door. By now, Scott was unable to keep his eyes off my half-exposed tits, my long, stocking-covered legs, and the ultra-high, ultra-sexy high heels. The height of the heels caused me to be taller than Scott, and I realized that choosing five-inch heels created a favorable situation I hadn't considered. Now that I towered over my son-in-law, the long, meaty cleavage I was so proud of and had paid a hefty price for was now at eye level to Scott. I'd made sure to close only the bottom tow buttons on my loose fitting and very revealing blouse: There was no way he could not see my half-exposed titties and the black bra holding them to my chest.
I watched with both amusement and desire as Scott openly stared at the opening in my blouse, as his eyes came upon and focused on my cleavage. As much as I wanted to reach out and pull Scott's face deep between my titties, I resisted the urge to do so. Yes, my desire was running at full speed, but in the back of my mind, I knew this was still a test on Scott's ability to resist my advances or not. But I also knew this: even if Scott's cock found its way to my cunt, then he would still gain my admiration. Either way, Scott - and me too, I realized - was in a win-win situation.
"Hi, baby," I said as I stepped forward and embraced Scott, bringing his body tight in against mine, his head nuzzling my neck. I held him a second longer than usual, letting the aroma of my perfume settle in his nostrils. For added effect, I twisted my upper body to the right and left, making sure Scott felt the pressure of my massive set of tits against his muscular chest. "I'm so glad to see you, honey," I said as I stepped back and placed my red-painted lips securely on Scott's right cheek. Scott smelled of an after shave I couldn't place but the scent did something to me which, even in my advanced state of sexual desire, amazed even me: It drove me to even greater depths of desire for this young, twenty-three year old man. And believe me, despite the thirty-one year age difference, all I wanted was one thing: cock. But, a small voice echoed in my head, reminding me that despite my unquenchable need for hard cock, I still wanted to test Scott's limits.
I decided I'd carried out successfully the first steps of this seduction dance I was conducting between Scott and myself. It was time now to move to a more focused attack on my future son-in-law and his morals. If he had any, that is. Yes, I was hot with desire, and yes, my cunt was streaming, but the bottom line, the whole intent of what I was doing, was still to see just how far Scott would go when confronted not only with a half-dressed woman who had an blazing body, but who was also sexually afire with erotic and insatiable desire. Taking Scott by his left hand, I led him across the foyer to the den where I'd made sure to set out several of his favorite whiskies. I also made sure to keep Scott behind me, hoping - well, I knew by this point - that his eyes were glued to the tight skirt that covered my wiggling ass, sliding side to slide as I made sure each step echoed the sound of my pencil-thin stiletto heels on the tiled floor. And because Scott was behind me and unable to see, he did not see me slip my left hand upward and quickly open one of the last remaining buttons keeping my blouse from becoming completely opened. With each step on my high heels, the blouse fluttered open, revealing now the full front of my bra and the entire length of the long, deep divide that separated my big tits. I'd come up with an added step to the plan, one I was certain would test Scott's ability to resist me. Or not. And to carry out this task, I needed the blouse to be fully open.
Just after entering the den, I released Scott's hand and made my way to the bar. Scott remained standing by the door to the den. I knew Scott's eyes were plastered to my tight ass as I stepped away from him. "Let's have a drink before dinner, baby," I said over my shoulder as I poured two whiskies into small glasses. After pouring each of us a drink, I turned to face Scott, dropped my chin and said, "oh, no. Would you look at that?" I asked, referring to my now very opened blouse. "Now, how did that happen?" I asked as I stepped across the small space to stand before Scott. Looking down, and making sure to keep both of my hands filled with our drinks, I asked Scott, "Baby, could you help me here? Could you do something about my shirt?"
Scott stared at me for what seemed an eternity. But slowly, ever so slowly, both of his arms rose and he placed his shaking fingers on the bottom button of my blouse. With his fingers fumbling to close the small pearl-colored button, his eyes remained locked onto mine. I felt his hand lift and close the next button, then, the middle button. When his hands reached the next button, I shifted my position so that Scott's hands made temporary contact with my cleavage. Neither Scott nor I spoke as his warm fingers rested between my titties. When he attempted to close the middle button, I stopped him, telling the love of my daughter's life "That's enough, Scott." The silence was overwhelming as we exchanged stares. "That's enough for right now, that is." Without looking, I knew that a substantial length of cleavage remained in view, enough to continue to draw Scott's attention.
By this point, I was simply amazed at Scott's ability to keep his hands off me despite what I was certain he saw was a blatant effort on my part to seduce him. But I was also saddened somewhat at his lack of touching me. Yes, so far, Scott was passing the test, but he was also failing in taking me and having his way with my sex-crazed body despite my best efforts to find some way to get him between my legs and into my hungry pussy. Reluctantly, I placed his drink in Scott's hand and led him to a small leather loveseat. Scott sat beside me, his right thigh pressed lightly against my stocking covered left leg. I specifically chose this loveseat because it was built only to hold two people who had to sit very close to each other. Deciding now was the time, I placed my left hand directly onto Scott's right thigh, the move causing him to focus his attention on my hand. Now, Lizzie, I said. Time to begin the final phase of your test.
"Scott, there's something I've been wanting to discuss with you," I said as I began to drum my red-tipped fingers on his thigh. By now, Scott and I were staring directly at each other, our eyes burning across the short space. For the next few moments, I described to Scott the circumstances behind my three failed marriages, and how each of my former husbands had cheated on me. I explained how Emily's absence gave us all the time we needed to discuss the so far unmentioned topic. "We have all night to discuss this, baby," I said as my left hand slid across his right thigh. "All night." Scott nodded his head, indicating he was ready to dive into whatever it was that seemed so utterly important to me.
But Scott beat me to the punch, so to speak. "Lizzie, you want to know if I'm going to be a faithful husband." He sipped from his drink, then returned my stare, his eyes forceful, powerful, holding me in place. "The answer is yes, I will be faithful. And just so you know, Lizzie, the woman who could entice me to cheat on Emily hasn't been born yet." A quiet sip from his drink and he said, "even if she were as beautiful as you, Lizzie, I would never cheat on Emily."
So there it was. His words were either an invitation or they were a challenge. Either way, my future son-in-law, in my opinion, had just thrown down the gauntlet, and had just stated that while he planned to be loyal to Emily, even under the right circumstances, he could never be tempted to fuck another woman. Like a spider weaving a web, I had him. I had Scott exactly where I needed him in order to test my theory that he would cheat on Emily. Slowly, I stood, facing Scott, my chest heaving with the nervous anticipation of what was to come.
"I don't believe you Scott," I said as I slowly opened one button after another on my tight-fitting blouse. Scott's eyes were glued to my increasingly exposed chest again, surely recalling the touch of my tits under his hand when he'd helped me to close the blouse just a half hour earlier. With the blouse fully opened, I removed the short from my body, my massive tits barely contained inside the black bra. Turning to the side so that Scott could see my profile, so that he could see just how big my tits are, I placed my hands under each titty and asked, "So you're telling me even these wouldn't entice you to cheat on Emily?"
By now Scott's eyes were so large they resembled small blue-colored lakes. He gulped, his eyes glued to my tits, but to his credit, he simply shook his head from side to side. His right arm rose, and with his index finger pointed at my heaving tits, Scott said, "No, Lizzie, I wouldn't even let those lead me to cheat on Emily." Another slow sip of his drink, but not once did Scott remove his eyes from my tits. Okay, Lizzie, I said to myself: Let's see if he's strong enough to resist the next move. Placing my long, red-tipped fingers on the side of my skirt, I unhooked the small clasp and let the skirt fall to my high heeled feet. A short, sideways step, and I stood in front of Scott dressed now in a bra, a thong that barely covered my cunt, stockings, and five-inch stiletto heels. Scott gulped his drink now, leaving the glass empty.
Excited now, and believing I was on the verge of victory - I wasn't sure whether that meant Scott fucking me or him denying my sexual advances - I unclasped the front of the bra, and let the garment simply hang open, the undersides of my man-made tits now in view, the cleavage no more than three feet from Scott's face. After letting him stare for several seconds, I removed the bra, the warm air washing over my tits, the nipples erect, hard, and pointed. "Look at me, Scott," I said. "I'm standing almost naked in front of you. What about now, baby?" I asked, my voice soft. "Would these make you want to cheat?" I cupped each titty in my hands, tweaking the nipples between my fingers. When Scott didn't respond - I silently commended him on his ability to remain seated - I knew the only thing to do was to move to the next step.
Releasing my tits, I snaked my hands inside the thong's waistband and slowly, ever so slowly slid the paper thin garment down each leg, finally stepping out of it. As I lifted the thong in my hands, I couldn't help but notice the extreme wetness in the crotch. Feeling the dampness caused me to become bolder. Moving forward now, I retook my seat beside Scott on the loveseat, my bare tits mere inches from his hands. Each nipple stood out, excited, stimulated, and ready to be sucked. Without speaking, I grasped each of Scott's hands in mine, and placed them, palm flat, against each of my massive titties. Scott gulped again, but he did not remove his eyes from my tits. "Can you tell me that even now you still wouldn't cheat on Emily, Scott?" Scott's fingers kneaded my tit flesh, causing tremors of sexual pleasure to radiate out from each nipple as I now used restraint to keep myself seated and not to lunge at Scott. There was no mistaking one thing, however: By now, a very large, prominent bulge appeared in Scott's trousers. Yes, he's stimulated, Lizzie, I said to myself: But will he use that hard cock on you?
The answer is yes. Scott lunged forward, his body weight throwing me back against the loveseat's armrest as the young man positioned his body over mine. His head immediately went to my tits, his mouth now glued to the right nipple while his right hand began to attack the left tit. "Oh, baby, I knew you'd come around," I said as I fell into the sensory pits of delight while Scott's lips and tongue assaulted my titty. Although I could not see his hands, I felt my son-in-law opening his trousers, bringing his certainly hard cock into the open, bringing it to where I could get at it.
From what Emily told me, Scott had been an excellent athlete in school. She'd mentioned how Scott had been on the football team and the wrestling team, and had spent countless hours in the weight room. I'd seen Scott shirtless at the lake and had noted his broad chest and thick legs. But I'd never seen his cock although I was sure I'd noted he had a hard cock from time to time. So when he removed his shirt, it wasn't as if I was seeing him topless for the first time. It was after he removed his trousers, however, that I knew I was in for something special. By now, Scott was completely nude, and the sight of this young man's body convinced me I'd made the right decision. His chest was rippled like a washboard while the muscles in his legs were thick and tight.
Scott returned to sucking on my tits. Every few sucks, he would release my tit from his mouth and slide his body upward, kiss my neck, then return to sucking on my titties. It was during this special movement that I felt it: I felt his hard cock pressed against my stomach, moving like a short snake toward my tits. I wanted to see Scott's cock, and I wanted it now. So, the next time he made this sort of lunge movement, I quickly slid my hands between our bodies and grasped his cock.
Oh my, oh my. My fingers found the meaty shaft but in no way was I able to wrap them completely around Scott's prick. My hand was still jammed between our bodies and Scott had ceased his movements. But the smile on his face seemed to ask, "Do you like what you found?" Surprised, but actually more curious, I asked Scott, "What the fuck is that?" It was then that I discovered why my daughter wanted so badly to marry this particular young man.
Rising from my body, Scott lifted himself upward and moved forward. The change in body position opened the space between Scott and myself and it was then that I directed my attention toward my hand. And there between my fingers was the largest cock I'd ever handled. I have large hands for a woman - I played basketball in college and, remember, I stand six feet, one inches tall - and usually have no problems gripping things. But not now. There was no way I could close my hand around Scott's immense cock. Not only was it wide with an amazing girth, but at least three inches of hard meat extended back from my hand toward the base while another four inches projected toward me. A quick assessment informed me I was holding on to at least ten inches of hard cock. Overall, I'd never seen a cock of this size, even in those fantastical drawings you see in magazines. "Oh, dear me," I said, my eyes opened in dish-sized wonder.
I've fucked younger men before, and usually find them to be exciting lovers. But Scott was in another class altogether. With that amazing body and his superior cock, I knew I was in for a treat. "Come here, baby," I said as Scott inched his body upward, the tip of his cock coming closer and closer to my hungry, eager mouth. When the head of his cock was only mere inches from my red-painted lips, I opened my mouth, looked up at Scott and said, "Give it to me, baby. I want you to fuck my mouth."
You've probably gathered by now that not only do I enjoy sex anytime, anywhere, but I also like it rough. I like sex that brings bruises or scrapes. I can take it as much as I can give it too, by the way. Just before Scott jammed his cock between my lips and into my mouth, I looked up at him and issued him a challenge: "I bet you can't make me gag on that thing, baby." Scott's facial expression changed with the blink of an eye, and it was clear to see he'd readily accepted my challenge. In an instant, his hands grasped the back of my head as his powerful grip forced my head toward him. All pretenses of seduction were gone now as the extremely wide head of Scott's cock slammed through my lips and burst into my mouth as Scott literally rammed every inch of his hard, thick cock meat into my willing mouth. Feeling him intertwining his fingers into my hair and yanking my head first in one direction and then in another caused not so much pain as it did pleasure. By now, Scott's feet were braced against the sofa's armrest located at the other end of the sofa, his powerful leg muscles driving, driving, driving his meaty ten inches of dick forcefully into my accepting mouth.
I don't know if I'd angered Scott or not by my challenge, but above me, I heard his voice say, clearly, "Take that, Lizzie, damn you." A sudden surge forward of Scott's body and my lips became pressed flat against the base of Scott's cock. Over and over, Scott repeated, "TAKE MY COCK, LIZZIE, YOU FUCKING WHORE! TAKE MY FUCKING COCK" while he pile drove his cock into my mouth. Each time his cock slammed forward, my head was thrown backward into the armrest behind it. Even when I began to feel slight pangs of pain, I still wanted Scott's cock. Hoping he wouldn't stop, I wrapped my hands around his waist, found his ass cheeks and assisted my future son-in-law by pulling his body toward me with each of his forward thrusts. By now, I was losing the bet I'd foolishly made: each time Scott's cock entered my mouth, loud gagging sounds filled the room. But I didn't care: I actually found the sounds stimulating, enjoying the fact that I had a cock in my mouth, yes, but truly loving the fact that it was Scott's cock.
But as all young man can be at times, Scott was impatient. And it was clear that he had taken charge of the sexual situation. Perhaps he felt he was on the verge of coming in my mouth - which would have been fine with me - and wanted instead to explode in my cunt. With one powerful rearward thrust, his cock slipped through my lips, leaving me watching Scott with my mouth formed in an "O" shape. Before I could ask what he planned to do, Scott grasped each of my stocking covered ankles in his hands, lifted my high-heeled feet, and just as powerfully and quickly as he'd rammed his cock into my mouth, now his cock was slamming away at my pussy.
And now it was my turn to scream. "YOU MOTHERFUCKING CHEATER!" I yelled at Scott, not meaning the accusation, but loving the sound of my voice. "YOU COCKSUCKER! YOU'RE A FUCKING CHEATER, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" I screamed as I grasped Scott's head and pulled him downward for a deep, erotic, mouth-cleaning kiss. By now, Scott was moaning deeply as he time after time smashed his hard, thick, wide cock into my waiting pussy. Breaking the kiss, I looked up at Scott now and saw the obvious signs of an orgasm, just beginning now, as Scott's face contorted, wrinkled, his eyes closed, his mouth open and prepared to voice his pleasure.
"I'M COMING YOU FUCKING BITCH!" Scott screamed, arching his back and making sure every last millimeter of his unique cock disappeared inside my pussy. Looking up, I noticed how my stocking covered toes pointed down at me, how the pencil-sharp points of my high heels projected upward at the ceiling. Scott leaned forward, my ankles still grasped tightly in his strong hands, and pressed my thighs against my tits. With this slight change in position, I never would have believed it possible for my lover to find more space to jam his cock into. But he did, as my cunt began to feel as if it were being ripped apart. It was almost as if Scott's cock had changed from being a very long, very wide cock to a wooden baseball bat. "OH, FUCK, LIZZIE! OH FUCK, LIZZIE!" Scott screamed over and over as his orgasm took control of his body and he gave me all he was worth. "YOU OLD WHORE!"
Perhaps it was Scott's sexual insults that caused me to come as well. I don't really know, and it's not important, but the fact is that just as Scott's orgasm was ending, mine was beginning. Normally, my orgasms are monumental events in themselves, but this afternoon, because I was fucking my future son-in-law and at that very moment a stream of hot, pure come was flowing from his body and pooling in my cunt, well, all these events coupled to create the best toe-bending, back-arching, titty smashing orgasm as I've ever had. I mean, while Scott pummeled my cunt, the intensity of my orgasm sent me to a sexual place I'd never been before. It was more than just wave after wave of orgasm flowing from my cunt and across my entire body: It was as if I was simultaneously being stomped on by a large man wearing heavy boots while also being lifted lightly by large birds into the sky, all my worries removed and forgotten. The experience left me both breathless and stunned. For several moments afterward, as I lay on my back with Scott's cock still jammed inside of me that I also realized one additional little detail I hadn't considered before I set out on this little venture: I wanted more of Scott's cock, even if he was my soon to be son-in-law. I didn't care that he was about to marry my daughter: with a cock like that and the sexual talents he'd displayed and used in me, hell, I could always make an adjustment in my moral beliefs. Emily would just have to understand.
Rolling to my left, I allowed Scott to suck my tits while he fingered my cunt. Damn, this boy has skills, I said to myself. Extending my arms, I wrapped them around Scott's bare shoulders and kissed him deeply and was pleased to feel his tongue slithering between my lips and entering my mouth. When the kiss ended, Scott sat up, his back against the headboard, his eyes focused intently on me, his future mother-in-law. Even now, just moments after unleashing a tremendous load of hot come into my pussy, Scott's cock was already hardening again. Unable to stop myself, I wrapped my land around the hard shaft, giving the meaty pole several slow strokes. Unable to remove my eyes from Scott's cock, his words broke my concentration.
"Lizzie?" he asked. "What the fuck just happened?" Reluctantly, I released his cock and sat up as well, our bodies touching at the arms and legs. Looking down my body, I noticed rivers of perspiration flowing between my gigantic tits, small spots of Scott's come spread over my cunt hair, the black stockings covering my legs, and my feet, still encased in the five-inch stiletto heels. "I mean, you're on the verge of being my mother-in-law," Scott said, a certain level of either disbelief or fear in his voice. "I'm certain we should never have fucked like this," he said.
It is because of my age and sexual experience that I returned to stroking Scott's hard cock. Turning my head to face him, I admitted how this sexual escapade had originally been my attempt at testing his fidelity. I explained how I used sex and my sexily clad body to determine whether or not he would be true to Emily. By now, his cock was at maximum hardness, the head purple and rock hard, the shaft like a steel pipe. "You're a man, Scott, with a cock," I said. "You crave sex like any other male." I further admitted that while I'd initially hoped that he would refuse my advances to prove his dedication to my daughter, once we began to fuck and I realized just how good his cock could be, it was me who lost all control. "But answer just one question for me, baby," I said. "Would you fuck me again, even if you are married to Emily?"
Scott closed his eyes as the cock stimulation I was providing began to take effect. He inhaled sharply several times as low-toned moans escaped his lips. Finally, gaining temporary control of his reactions, Scott turned to me and said, "Yes." With a smile I am sure Scott did not anticipate, I made him agree that he would fuck no one else other than Emily or myself, and that his sexual needs had to be fulfilled by my daughter first. Then he could visit me anytime he desired. When I informed Scott that if he agreed to those conditions, then he would have my full blessings to marry my daughter, Scott again shook his head and said, "I accept, Lizzie."
Swinging my body over his now, my stocking covered legs stimulating his bare skin, I lowered my still sex hungry cunt down onto the head of Scott's massive cock. As the head, then several inches of hard meat slipped between my cunt lips, and as I established a rhythm that one more caused my massive titties to jiggle before the young man's face, my last words, before they were replaced by a series of deep, sex-induced moans were, "Good. I love keeping things inside the family."
|
Note from the webmaster: authors always appreciate feedback about their stories, so by all means write the author a note if you liked the story! The author of this story: Joshua |