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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please
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And Mother Knows Best
by Marc Diamond (address withheld)
***
A young wife is caught bent over the fender of her
husband's Mustang with a dick stuck in her. Hmmm. Her
brokenhearted husband goes to his mother-in-law for
advice. And because Mother Knows Best, she gives him
some. (MF, cheating, voy, rom)
***
As Jenny and I sat watching a movie recently I was
amazed at how much her mother looked like the actress
that was on the screen, Diane Lane. Even she noticed
and commented about it. It was really uncanny. I
couldn't keep my eyes off the actress anymore than I
could keep them off her mom.
If confession is good for the soul then let me be the
token confessor for all the guys out there that have a
mother-in-law that looks as hot, if not hotter, than
her daughter. Moms, we married her and enjoy sex with
her, but we really want to fuck you. We just don't know
how to safely approach you. Help us!
Anyway, the movie was slow but still provided Jenny and
I a much needed evening out. Things between us couldn't
be more strained. What was supposed to have been a date
to help us reconnect went south when she slid her hand
to my crotch and discovered I was hard.
"You bastard! You're thinkin' 'bout mom! I should have
known!"
She stormed out of the theatre. I followed in
embarrassment. "Excuse me... sorry... sorry... excuse
me."
I don't know why she fuckin' went off on me; it was her
fault. Women! God, I love 'em, but sometimes I just
don't understand 'em. She had asked for her mother's
help, believing that 'mother knows best', then when she
gets it she's still not happy.
But lest you get lost before the story ever begins, let
me backtrack a bit and fill is some details.
Jenny is twenty-two and I'm twenty-six. We celebrated
our third anniversary about six months ago. While I
can't describe the three years as wedded bliss, neither
have they been WW III, except for the past few weeks.
They've probably been more like a three-day-old beer –
flat and unsatisfying.
After the marriage ceremony, we kind of settled down to
a routine. I presumed things would continue like the
dating and engagement phase. Jenny was in constant
heat, always ready to go. Ah, those were the days, just
continual humping. She seemed insatiable. I even had
concerns that over the long haul I might not be able to
keep pace with her.
Vikki, Jenny's mother, caught us on several occasions,
and on one of them her voyeurism was just plain
blatant. Even after she realized I caught her watching
she didn't turn away. Her only comment came later with
a grin when I tried to apologize for being so careless.
"Forget it Marc...I was greatly impressed...about that
much." And then she held her hands apart indicating
about nine inches. She was an inch too long but I
wasn't going to correct her. Sometimes things look
larger than they really are.
Her candid remark startled me some, but she wasn't
finished. "Every mother has a curiosity about her son-
in-laws ability... if you know what I mean. From what I
just saw, I think Jenny will be well served." Then she
purposely giggled like a schoolgirl. But before turning
to walk away she placed her hand on my cheek, patted me
softly several times, patted me twice on the chest and
was gone. That was the end of her remarks but not the
end of how she occasionally looks at me.
Since then a sexual tension, just below the surface,
has existed between us, but neither of us has pressed
it.
The biggest shock about being married is that I get
less pussy now than I did when I was single. My married
friends joked that it would happen, but I didn't
believe them. It's not that I don't want it. Jenny
still looks good; even the few pounds she's put only
make her look better – bigger thighs and ass. Though
not as tall as her mother, Vikki at 5'7", she
nevertheless is still packaged tight – 35/C – 22 – 36.
I just hope over the years that she doesn't blossom
like Willard, her dad.
Willard and Vikki seem to be mismatched. Willard is
fifty-five, Vikki just turned forty. Willard is kind of
slothful about things; Vikki has boundless energy.
Willard is forty pounds overweight, Vikki weights about
one thirty five and is well toned with a 5-star behind.
From my perspective the only thing they have in common,
other than Jenny, is their height. Both are 5'7". I'm
the family odd ball - 6'1" and 205 lbs. And I'm getting
a little pudgy myself.
Jenny's body-type is like her dads and she constantly
complains about her weight. I'm tired of hearing it. I
wish she'd forget about the size of her ass and let me
have some of it. She always looks good enough to eat,
which I don't get to do nearly enough.
So what's the problem? This! I just can't
satisfactorily understand how our relationship got off
track in just three short years. It's for sure our work
schedules are against us. I work during the day, 9 to
5; she works from 6 in the evening until 2 in the
morning - and a lot of weekends.
At first that was ok; Jenny even found a way to make it
exciting by taking the self-serve approach to sex. Even
though I was usually asleep when she arrived home, she
would suck me hard then mount me for the ride. But that
came to an end after about a year. I think there were
too many nights when the cock got up, but I didn't.
Contrary to the old wives tale that dicks have a mind
of their own, they really don't. At least I don't think
they do.
I knew we weren't as close as we should be, but I
didn't realize how far we had drifted until recently.
The evening had been one of restlessness for me, so
when the garage door opened, I woke up. I thought I
heard another car pull into our drive and a door slam,
but I dismissed the thought. Our street is always busy
– maybe someone turned around.
After about fifteen minutes when Jenny didn't come in I
decided to go check on her. I walked through the house
then into the breezeway and quietly opened the door to
the garage. Hearing some strange sounds I stepped
inside and eased the door shut.
The heat and darkness of the garage seemed to amplify
the sounds that were all too familiar - whumpf – whumpf
– whumpf. They were unmistakable. Someone was fucking;
and conversely someone was getting fucked - and pretty
hard too from the sound of things.
There are times curiosity is a curse – this proved to
be one. I stood in the dark for a moment allowing my
eyes to adjust. It didn't take long.
Across the two-car garage I could see the active
silhouettes of two people against a hazy light from the
dusty garage window. One, the smaller silhouette, was
bent over the fender of the car. The other was rutting
from behind – whumpf – whumpf – whumpf!
"Lady, you got some good pussy."
I turned on the light, and immediately four eyes
squinted back at me.
The sight was outrageous and emotionally I couldn't
seem to process what I was seeing. There was Jenny in
her black heels, her dress pulled up over her hips and
gathered in front of her, her red panties on the hood
and she was spread-legged leaning over the fender of my
black Mustang on her elbows.
Behind her was a guy with nothing on but his shoes and
socks and a hat. His shirt, pants and briefs were in a
crumpled pile on the garage floor. I recognized the
uniform. His knees were bent for optimum position and
power. He was giving her a power-fuck.
Her open stance was allowing him maximum access - legs
were straight and she was bent forward at the waist.
His right hand was on her hip moving her back and forth
as he also powered into her. There was no lovemaking.
It was a fuck, and she enjoying the slamming.
With him being naked between his hat and shoes, it was
a vulgar sight. They kept fucking!
Wife or not, emotionally it is this type of visual
banquet that immediately registers in the groin of a
man. First, the sight of a woman, any woman, getting
fucked is always erotic. She's bent over a fender. Her
dress is pulled above her waist and her white legs and
ass are open and on display. Her pussy is wet and
swollen. She's spread and receptive to him. This is
cooperation at the ultimate level.
Behind her is a naked man, rutting her. He has a cobra
tattooed down the outside of his right thigh. His left
hand is gripping a handful of hair. The woman's head is
pulled back. Both bodies glisten from sweat. The pace
of the fuck doesn't diminish; he continues to drive
hard into her. It is an erotic sight! There's no
passion, there's just fucking. It's amazing what the
eyes can drink in and the mind can assess in only a
split second.
Then there are the audible stimulants... the continual
whumpf – whumpf – whumpf of sweaty bodies loudly
slapping together. I don't have to see whether she's
juicy or not, I can hear it. She's juicy! Without
thinking my eyes travel to the place of penetration. I
see the piston as it drives then withdrawals. She's
greasy, swollen, and rivulets of love sauce trickle
down the backs of her thighs.
It's odd but I have a sordid admiration for him. He's
really giving her a good fuck.
As a man, you know what that feels like. Your cock is
so hard it almost hurts. The woman is wet and hot and
wanton. Her vocal grunting and backward grinding
indicates she's lost to everything around her. Hers
eyes are open but hollow. She would fuck family,
friends and neighbors if they would get in line. She
doesn't just like cock, now she craves it as it slides
in and out – in and out. Some of the jabs are full
length, some are half.
As you rut against her wide white ass, she feels so
damn good! And you know that it feels good for her too.
Simply stated, you crawl up on her backside and fuck
her like the bitch in heat she is!
She's been grunting and groaning for several minutes so
you listen for the words 'cause you know they're
coming. It's all that's on her mind: "Fuck me. Fuck me
deep."
I'm dazed. There's something that's just not right
about what I'm seeing and hearing, but I can't
immediately identify it. I desperately want to, but
it's just not processing. So I continue to stand and
stare – with their eyes now adjusted to the lighted
garage, they stare back.
He has a creepy grin; she is hollow in the eyes and her
mouth is open. His hand clinches her hair tighter, and
his slams get louder and harder. They are the thrusts
of challenge and defiance. They're not needed. She
won't attempt to break the coupling, even if she could,
and I seem to be frozen.
He pulls out on purpose which allows me to see his hard
cock. It's stiff and standing up in praise. We make eye
contact then he slowly moves to mount her again. This
time he lowers himself so his hips are underneath her.
Now instead of moving stiffly, all that moves is his
hips in a hunching motion like a dog. It's a lewd sight
– humping and hunching and humping – upward and in to
her. All the while she is arching back to find him. The
fucking continues – and for me it's all happening in
slow motion.
My immediate and first reaction is to wish that I could
fuck her too – right after he's finished. As he
withdraws I could just jerk him out of the way, slide
in her already stretched pussy and begin slammin' the
cock to her.
But then it clicks – this is my wife, and she's getting
fucked by the pizza delivery guy!
The look on my face must have been one of wide-eyed
disbelief for he was about to add his voice to the
sounds of sloppy sex.
"I'm just giving her some pepperoni. Hope you don't
mind. She's seems to like it, doesn't she? But don't
worry, there's no charge." The sound continues – whumpf
– whumpf – whumpf.
My emotions spilled out. "What the fuck!?!"
"Phil... whumpf... go back in the house... whumpf...
I'll be in there... whumpf... in just... ummmm... a
minute." Whumpf! Wumpf! Whumpf!
All the while, echoing from garage wall to garage wall
was that whumpf... whumpf... whumpf. But worse, it was
echoing through my mind.
Gritting his teeth, he placed his right forearm on her
back, harshly pulled her head back and leaned over on
her.
"Here is comes, bitch! Here's your topping!
Auuggghhhhh! O, Fuck!" Whumpf! Whumpf!
"Ummmh...mmmmmm."
Letting go of her hair, he let his weight fall on her
back. I could see the muscles in his ass continue to
contract and relax as he emptied himself in her.
As the door closed behind me I could hear her getting
off.
Bitch!
End Part 1 (marc00diamond@yahoo.com)
Author's Note: Can this marriage be saved? The
estranged relationship between Jenny and Phil is in a
precarious state of affair. They will both turn to her
mother for wisdom and comfort. And Vikki is such a
nurturing presence. And because Mother Knows Best, she
will appropriately give what is needed. I'm just
guessing, but probably some pussy for Phil and some
advice for Jenny.
Of course, Phil will need to move in with her and
Willard while she mends things. Poor Willard, there's
going to be a lot of marriage repair work at his house;
he's just not going to get in on any of it. But it's
important and has to be done. After all, think about
what poor Phil has just witnessed.
I'm sure he'll accept Vikki's assistance. Jenny should
have been more careful. But thank goodness she has a
mother to which she can turn for help and advice. She
can request that her mother help put things back
together for she and Phil. And because mother knows
best, her mom will give it her all.
As someone simply watching what is going on with these
two families, I am terribly worried. Even I'm not sure
where this is going. I'm so fearful that once Vikki
gets accustomed to having her pizza pie eaten on a
regular basis, she may not be so quick to release Phil.
And Mother Does Know Best - especially in the bed. And
if she whips some of that fine, experienced 40-year-old
pussy on Phil, I'm not sure wild horses could drag him
away from her.
This could be disastrous for Jenny!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 38