I should explain: although this series is called 'Ex...' we haven't reached my ex mother-in-law's part in this story yet. These first parts detail what could happen with my current mother-in-law...
Mother-in-Law Sex, Pt3: Neighbour Lady Love
After that first week making love with my wife’s wonderful grandmother, followed 6 months later by that very pleasant sex with my mother-in-law, I no longer bothered my wife; she seemed to have lost all desire for any sex – in fact, I wondered if she had a boyfriend somewhere, or a girlfriend, as I knew she had previously had a lesbian relationship for several years before me. She seemed contented enough, so I was fine with whatever.
Mae, my mother-in-law, now lived around the corner, in a house young sister-in-law, Nui, had bought; it was 2 minutes walk between our houses. With my wife and her sister at work 6 days, Mae and I both retired it seemed (well, neither of us had found a suitable new position), it was easy for Mae to pop around during the day if she felt in need of anything: she came rather regularly!
Sometimes she arrived, it seemed, within moments of her 2 daughters driving off to work at 0700; she had a key to our house and I would be woken with a mouth under the bedcover on my also woken prick. I wasn’t comfortable the first time she wanted sex in the bed I shared with my wife, so when I woke at her ministrations, we took to crossing the hall to the spare bedroom – “our bedroom” Mae called it – and continued there. Pai was a lover; Mae just wanted Sex, unbridled, orgasm-inducing any-which-way SEX. It seemed reasonable for me to comply, and help where I could in this, our family, so I did.
(I need to digress for a few lines: after my stay with Pai, grandmother of my wife, mother to my mother-in-law, Mae had slept most of the trip home from Pai’s country home, to ours in the city, her head on a pillow on my lap, and a hand under the pillow cuddling my prick. She made a few comments that let me know she saw something between Pai and I, something which suggested the week I spent there had also involved a close, personal bonding between Pai and I.
She was right of course; Mae’s lonely 66y.o. mother had become my lover-extraordinaire, and I loved her deeply. We made love everywhere and anywhere, with tenderness, and with abandon, with recklessness, and multiple times with multiple orgasms – Pai had been alone for many, many years, and seemed to have much catching up she wanted to do, while I was in an essentially sexless marriage yet still with desires.)
Pai was a lover, a wonderful all-giving woman of love, and I gave back with my own love; Mae has a boyfriend, had for some 12 years but never a word of marriage (her husband, the 2 girls’ father died long ago), but what Mae wanted from me was raw sex from a larger cock.
I gave her what she wanted, when she wanted, but never chased her.
The family was devastated when Pai died shortly thereafter. I wept more tears than others perhaps, for I had known her in a special way, and as I wai’d my respects to her at the cremation Wat, and on the mourning days thereafter, I hoped that somehow her spirit was a little happier after knowing me, as surely as I was uplifted knowing her in my life.
Some months later, after the first 100 days of mourning Pai had ended, during which time Mae had not sought my company, I was sitting outside one morning reading my paper and drinking a beer – routine re-established.
I heard the distinctive sound of a blind person’s cane tapping its way down our small street; I didn’t look up until the tapping stopped, then heard the lady with the cane ask:” are you the foreigner who lives in this street?” She must have sensed my presence somehow.
I couldn’t answer for some moments, so dumbstruck was I. She was the very image – maybe a virtual image – of Pai, here at my gate!
“Yes, yes I am a foreigner” I stammered as, at the sound and direction of my voice, she turned and tapped her way to the gate. Apart from unseeing eyes, her stature, her long hair swaying down her back, her body, smooth, unwrinkled skin, even her wrap-around skirt and shirt covering well-remembered curves, were an almost perfect copy of beloved Pai.
“I can’t read obviously” she said, “but my family can’t read this letter from America in English. Can you help please?”
Naturally I agreed, and bounded from my chair to help her negotiate her way inside our courtyard, holding her arm gently as I guided her inside to sit on the sofa. But first she asked me to lead her to the bathroom/toilet and kitchen areas at the back of our ground floor, explaining once was enough for her to always be able to find her own way around. I settled her back on the sofa, turned on the fan for some coolness, and offered her a drink – tea, Pepsi, water…”A beer would be better” she said with a smile, seemingly reading my confusion at this situation.
Re-settling beside her, after handing her a glass of beer, and showing her where the small table was I had put in front, I read the letter aloud, slowly; it was a solicitor’s letter, a bequest to her from some friend in America who had recently died. It also included a cheque for some money, and a dried flower which I placed in her hand, bringing a knowing smile to her face – a face I stared at, a smile I stared at: “Pai?” I asked.
She turned her head towards me, a quizzical smile, and I said “Sorry, what is your name – I haven’t asked.” “My nickname is ‘Faith’” she said. She gently fondled the dried flower, clearly remembering some past circumstances, before say “He was a very dear friend long ago, and the flower is a keepsake of a time we made wonderful love in a field of these flowers. Such times in a life are few and far between, if ever for some people.”
“You remind me so much of my wife’s grandmother, almost a twin. May I ask how old you are, revered sister?” I used the proper form of respect, but when she replied”67”, I almost cried, knowing Pai would be 67 at this time also.
Faith heard my gasp, and laid one hand over mine in my lap, squeezing and soothing as she responded “She must have been very special to you, and you to her I am sure”.
“She was, and I hope I was also”, as I now held her hand in both mine.
Like a baby, her presence calmed me, and it seemed natural when she released her hand, moved it up my arm, and pulled my shoulder to her, my head following to nestle on her breast, an ample breast so reminiscent of Pai’s. “I am not her, this grandmother you loved, but I am of the same spirit” she whispered, as she pulled me even more tightly to her body, laying her beer on the table and encircling me now with both arms, as I sobbed for a few moments, my right arm encircling her chest, laying across those wonderful breasts.
“I am sorry, your sudden appearance and, truly, you are a vision of her, I was overcome with feelings, with memories also, and with longing for what was but which can never be again. Thank you.” I sat up somewhat and leaned in to kiss her, as a son might, on the cheek, but she turned her face to my voice and our lips met, hers open; surprised, I stayed there a moment, while Faith pushed gently on my lips with her tongue, quite seductively circling around, until my mouth responded and she sinuously slid around my teeth and inside of my mouth and tangled with my own tongue.
She twisted further towards me on the sofa, then lay herself down, resting her head on the end cushion, and guiding my body between her arms to follow. My left arm was trapped under her body against the sofa’s backrest, but my right now acted as the moment demanded and as she relaxed back, I gently removed my lips while I eased under her legs and shifted her to a more comfortable prone position. I then eased myself half on her left side, half on top of her, and leaned back in to her waiting mouth, with my right hand now able to glide and grasp across her magnificent breasts.
She sighed, letting me know she was also feeling aroused, and when I unlocked our lips and looked into her eyes, there was not blindness I saw there, but a gleam and depths to which I was drawn.
I gently reached for the few buttons on her blouse, slowly undoing each to the last one, when I peeled the material to the sides by sliding my hand up her abdomen to feast my eyes higher. “Oh” was all I could moan as I firstly pecked her mouth, then her neck and roved across the rising mound of one milk-giving tit to the other, slurping around before suckling on nipples. It was amazing: the size of her breasts, the length and feel of her nipples was a visual, reincarnated feel of Pai, somehow Faith’s double or twin or former being.
I lingered hungrily everywhere, long, hard nipples, mounds of strong breasts, curve of her neck, finding an earlobe to nibble, and back and forth to her mouth for more joining of tongues and juices.
Juice was also coating my shorts and upper thighs as I leaked pre-cum. Faith could feel it on her legs, bare where her skirt had bunched up somewhat, and she said “Here let me take care of that” (those same words again?, heard before) as she used her hands to untie the knot of her skirt and unwrap the material under our bodies. Continuing, she peeled the waistband of my shorts, silently showing me she wanted them off to allow skin to skin contact.
How can a 67y.o. maintain a body of a younger, fit woman; smooth-skinned, breasts not sagging as one would expect, only a slight grey to her otherwise brown pubic hair, tautness to her muscles; even thighs and buttocks which, while a large size, still beautiful to fondle everywhere? I asked myself all this (as I had with Pai months back) while my eyes roamed with my hands, and my prick rose to its full strength and tugged me almost towards that glistening cunt of Faith.
She squeezed her legs outwards under us, and pulled my hips upwards, then one hand to painfully force downwards my erect cock, lining it up and pulling my willing body up again, sliding my cock on her pussy lips, before I used my own strength to ease inside.
Inside a tight, wet tunnel, outer lips mesmerizing my eyes as they closed around my prick as it inched slowly to its full depth, hitting a bottom and drawing moans from Faith, moans of content, not pain, as she held my head and pulled my mouth down to her nipples, dragging my eyes reluctantly away from that awesome sight below.
As I mouthed her breasts, she reached down and tugged at my hips, a signal to do more. I responded by slightly raising my hips, allowing the leverage to slide my cock almost out and returning to the depths of Faith’s cunt. I began my favourite rhythm, taken years ago from a Kama Sutra passage: in and out slowly for 9, then a sudden strong surge as far as possible, then easing back to slow sliding, changing the frequency of these, and the extreme plunges, hopefully keeping the Woman, Faith, rising but never sure when the climax would be triggered.
Thanks to Mae, I mused while trying to build the pleasure for Faith, sex in recent times had been so much more frequent than in past years of marriage that I did not need to rut like a goat and get off in 2-3 minutes, but was able to continue whenever it seemed pleasing and enjoyable to both. But unlike Mae, who needed pure climax-giving sex fucking, Faith was exactly as Pai had been: sweet and loving, romantic, seductive and sensuous – the ingredients of love-making.
We made Love. I moved inside her and almost out, around and up and down, stimulating wherever her moans and gasps said wordlessly ‘that’s a good spot’, rubbing against her clitoris on many strokes until, one time, I felt the gurgle inside her cunt, a sucking on my cock from the walls of her pussy and a clenching of my hair in her hands. I plunged and held myself at the depths, her caressing of my cock enough to respond in kind, and we had that most magnificent few moments of love-making: joined people becoming one in a simultaneous burst of energy, both flooding the other with juices, mine though creamy, powerful shots which were swallowed into Faith as a drink through a straw.
I attempted to plough even deeper as my cock still managed to pump, but we were already as tight together as possible; I moved my mouth over her breasts, her nipples taut, to her throat and lips and glazed eyes, her ears and neck and shoulders, as both of us basked in the subsiding storm of emotions, allowing heart rates to come down, cock to come down, and all to relax in that wonderful afterglow as I draped myself along her body.
We dozed, but for only a short time as we were both hot and sticky with sweat. My cock had subsided but remained nestled inside the lips of Faith’s pussy. I kissed her gently as I withdrew and eased up, helping her up also and picking up her clothes as I followed, watching her naked rear as she unhesitatingly went to the bathroom; again I marveled how beautiful she was. While I went upstairs to get her a towel, she washed herself with the hand-held shower, and I waited to then lovingly dry her off, kissing her now and again in various places open to me. She was smiling.
A cooling drink, this time water for Faith, and she said she would need to go home, as her family would be waiting. Before I could verbalise my question, she answered “This was wonderful for me, I hope for you; it was the glorious final time making of love I never had the chance to experience with that dear friend who sent the letter. You have loved me today, and I you, but no-one knows tomorrow. Be content at this moment.”
And she pressed the dried flower into my hand, no words necessary for me to understand the significance.
I led her to the gate, where she declined my offer to aid her up the street –where do you live? Only a smile in response. Before her first tap, she faced me, and now with a somewhat mischievous smile I realized, “By the way, I do know your mother-in-law quite well actually; she suggested you could help me - with the letter. And her mother, Pai, was very close to me. We are just like Family, all of us.
This wonderful woman Faith, epitome of Pai, and now the second older woman to have blessed me with their love, and their love-making, tapped her way up the street.
When I could no longer hear the taps, and not wanting to spy as to where her family’s house might be, I turned to go inside.
I looked down at the tickle in my hand, and I was not even surprised when I found the flower she had given me was no longer dead and dried, but rather alive, blooming and colourful. It was a chrysanthemum, and later I learned the name ‘Pai’ was a local word for that very flower.
(end of Part 3)