Lynnda Re-discovers Herself

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


I lounged in a restorative and sorely needed bath, half of my body seemed to be marked with scratches, bruises and bite marks, my pussy was rubbed raw and my bum felt to be on fire; too long out of the saddle methinks, or perhaps too long back in it? My Son-in-Law John hadn’t finished using and abusing me until lunch time and then he’d been sound asleep ever since; I’d cancelled my afternoon appointments anyway, as I ached in every bone and was feeling every one of my forty-eight years. Besides which, I needed to stay home to ensure that John was out of my bed and into his own, preferably by way of the shower, before his wife — my daughter — Jessica came home around six.

How the hell had he learnt of my history; someone must’ve told him, but who? John even knew that I’d been fucked by my father and not even Jack had known that; my deepest secret. That thought of my dead husband put a smile on my face, Jack would’ve been smiling too if he’d been looking down from heaven — or more likely up from hell! – this morning and seen me with John. I could even imagine what Jack would have been saying as he’d watched: “That’s it lad, slam your cock in and ride her hard; make the bitch squeal, she’s loving it!” Shamefully, Jack would’ve been speaking the truth.

Having made me ride him like some cheap whore — not that my own behaviour had suggested I was anything other – I’d slid off John’s lap to land on the kitchen floor and laid there semi comatose for…? I’ve honestly no idea how long. When I did recover, it was to find myself bedraggled and soaked – both inside and out! – in both John’s semen and my own sexual outpourings, I must’ve looked a fright; how many years had it been since I’d orgasmed that hard? I clambered to my knees, then grabbing at the table’s edge had made it about halfway to my feet before John spoke: “And where might you be going Lynnda?”

“For a shower, maybe a bath and then back to my bed; you’ve worn me out, I need to sleep.”

“Bed sounds a good idea, but there’s no point in your taking that shower until I’ve fucked your arse; no time either, I’m already getting stiff just thinking about it.” Looking around I saw that John wasn’t joking, his cock was almost hard again; I must’ve been out of it for even longer than I’d thought?

“You’re married to my daughter! This isn’t right; we can’t do it again, especially not… I don’t do… that, anyway.”

“Oh Lynnda… you may not have been fucked there in years, but we both know that Mummy’s a little arse-slut; surely you remember who told me that?”

I met John’s gaze, wracking my brain as I stared at him; who the hell had been talking? It was a few seconds before realisation dawned and John no doubt saw that dawning in my changing expression: in this instance it had been me! I’d been sat on John’s lap not half an hour ago, his cock driving into me, when in my frenzy I’d said something like ‘when you’ve finished with my pussy you might want to fuck my görükle escort bum too’. No, it was worse, I’d actually had said ‘mummy’s cunt’! Oh God, what was to become of me!

Another look at John’s face answered that for me too, his expression was hungry and… cruel; how often had Jack’s expression appeared much the same? In hope rather than expectation, I shook my head and once again pleaded: “No, not now John, I’m exhausted; you can’t ask that of me.”

John’s sharp response came as no surprise: “Like I told you before slut, I’m not ‘asking’… Now get yourself upstairs.”

I didn’t argue, I simply turned toward the staircase and shuffled forward; I’d learned long ago that one didn’t argue with those sort of men. But what were ‘those sort of men’? Weren’t they exactly the sort that I’d always sought out, or at least had gladly acceded to when they’d found me. My mind was going at a hundred miles an hour as I stumbled up the stairs and John was so close behind that his hands pawed at my naked buttocks as we went; one of those roving hands thrust a probing finger roughly into my anus as we reached the bedroom doorway.

I yelped in response to his sordid assault; it was over fifteen years since I’d been penetrated in… there and John’s intrusion had hurt like hell! I was long out of practice at anal sex; indeed until an hour ago, sex of any sort and I suspected that John had never done it – certainly not with Jess. Realising that things could get ugly, I jerked free of John’s penetrating finger, turned toward him and despite my watering-eyes, delivered a sultry smile: “Easy does it, if you’re not careful you’ll split me in two before you even get that lovely cock inside me and we don’t want that do we? I certainly don’t and as you’ve discovered what an arse-slut mummy can be, why not just sit on the edge of the bed and let her prove it?” I heaved a sigh of relief when John grinned and complied.

I knew that any lubricant would’ve been discarded long ago and searched frantically for an alternative; John’s eagerness was clear in his body-language and I didn’t want to risk trying his patience. Found it! A tub of Squirrel’s Nut Butter; it was right at the very back of the bloody drawer and a reminder that it was high time that I began running a little more regularly again. Twirling back around to face John, I began by salaciously anointing each nipple — that’s what it’s for after all! – and though hardly germane to the rigours ahead, it provided a sensual start to proceedings, making my nipples and areolae glisten beautifully and the unblinking stare which John employed in watching me suggested that he thought so too.

To say that I ‘danced’ before John for the next few minutes would be an exaggeration, but I writhed and contorted myself in the most suggestive of ways as I liberally coated my bum — both inside and out! and took the opportunity to apply a coating of the lubricious gloop to my inner thighs too, those bursa merkez escort were already sore from our earlier congress in the kitchen! Equally and perhaps more importantly, with John seemingly content to watch my lewd performance, I was now able to control the initial penetration; I’d never have survived the ‘wham bang thank you mam’ that John would have likely delivered given half the chance.

Stepping in close and taking John’s prick lightly in my right hand, I twirled around, straddled his thighs and gently lowered myself down onto him, guiding his now fully rigid shaft toward the tight starburst of my bum. Once contact was made and alignment confirmed, I breathed out in relaxation — or as relaxed as I could manage! – and settled an inch further, a little wiggle of my hips and it was done, John’s helmet broke through and his cockhead was inside. Not as painful as anticipated after so long dormant and my sharp intake of breath at the intrusion was easily masked by John’s groan of delight and growled: “Lynnda.. you really are one dirty bitch.”

It was perhaps for the best that John didn’t see the smile that his comment drew from me as I began to work the rest of him inside myself? Rotating my hips whilst rocking on the balls of my feet to add or ease the pressure, I slowly drove the whole length of John’s cock into my tightest channel; it was more than my just being ‘out of practice’, John was well endowed, but by dictating my own penetration, I could keep things on just the right side of the pleasure/pain divide. To be honest, what pain I did endure in accommodating John was for the most part subsumed by that from my breasts; John had reached around to maul them savagely while I ground myself down on him.

We shared a matching groan of attainment in the moments after his balls finally kissed against the soft, damp flesh of my pussy, whereafter I began to ride him with increasing ease, speed and pleasure. Taking hold of one of those hands groping my boobs, I guided it to my dripping pussy; John was a good student and immediately attacked my clit and pussy with the same aggression that he’d applied to my breasts. John soon had three fingers deep inside me and that, in conjunction with my bouncing on him like a Jack-in-the-box, brought me within thirty seconds to an explosive and noisy – very noisy! – climax. Oh God! How had I managed to go for so long without the now remembered pleasure of being doubly-penetrated?

I was still reeling from that orgasm when John’s hand returned to my breast, then half-standing he turned around and it was now me upon the bed; on my hands and knees with John’s cock still impaled deep in my bum. Preceded by a growl of “I’ve wanted to do this since forever.” – which confirmed my guess that this was John’s first time – he began to bang into me in just the way that I’d earlier feared, but now relished. John’s right hand returned to it’s rough abuse of bursa escort bayan my pussy, while the left entwined in my hair and pulled backward, prohibiting any mitigation of his hammer-blow penetrations; it was savage and I bloody loved it!

John narrated his assault with a tirade of foul mouthed opprobrium and and I bloody loved that too; Mummy was indeed a ‘sleazy arse-whore’! It wasn’t much more than a minute or two before John climaxed; hardly surprising given the frenzy of our coupling! I wasn’t complaining though, I was already well into my own equally expletive-filled orgasm before I heard John’s roar and felt the streams of his semen begin unleashed into my bowel. We collapsed in a sated heap upon the bed; my Son-in-Law had just fucked the proverbial arse off me.

So many memories flooded back to me as we lay in the afterglow and when John rolled off me a few minutes later, my pleasure was completed as he sleepily growled: “I’m knackered, I need to sleep; you can go take that shower if you want, I’m done with you for now.” and five seconds later he was snoring. That ‘I’m done with you’ was so reminiscent of Jack and my stomach fluttered in delight as I settled once again into the role which I’d long buried, but so loved and had so missed: A sexual toy to be used and then casually discarded. While John’s addenda of ‘for now’ promised that my re-discovered identity was to be permanent.

I arranged a couple of unnecessary business appointments for that evening — I really couldn’t face spending it with my daughter — and dressed for those before I roused John from my bed, allowing him a half hour to shower before Jessica arrived home. John instead chose to use that time to fuck me once more; hard and fast from behind, as I leaned against the bedroom wall, with my skirt about my hips and my panties simply dragged aside. I barely made it to the sanctuary of my car before Jess arrived; we could so easily have met in the hallway and one close-quarters glance would’ve revealed my dishevelment and John’s semen leaking down my leg, that would’ve been beyond embarrassing.

As the days passed I’ve become more at ease with my twin identities, a mother to Jessica and a whore for John; I’ve even managed to rationalise and indeed vindicate the deception that I’m playing on my daughter: John is using me in ways that no decent woman would allow, nor any mother condone for her daughter, so I’m ‘protecting’ Jess from such ignominies. Besides which, having more than once now overheard Jess declining John’s advances she’s clearly getting ‘all that she needs’, so aren’t I perhaps helping to ease her sexual burden? The latter is perhaps a little disingenuous, as I suspect that John is nowadays fucking Jessica more often than he did before; he seems to take a perverse delight in fucking both mother and daughter on the same day, indeed often in the same hour!

That morning was almost a month ago and there’s barely been a breakfast-time since which hasn’t seen me knelt on the floor with John’s cock inside my mouth; I often find it spiced by my daughters juices and those breakfasts usually conclude, with me spread-eagled across the table as John’s cock unloads its seed into either my arse or cunt; I’m John’s Mummy-slut now.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Leave a Reply

E-posta adresiniz yayınlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir