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The History Lesson

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Jessica and I have shared a house with her widowed mother Lynnda since we got married, we’ve not really much alternative given property prices in our area, though it’s not been as difficult as it may sound: I work night-shifts from 8:00 pm to six in the morning, Jess keeps regular ‘office’ hours while Lynn’s work schedule varies, but generally sees her out of the house during the afternoons and evenings. So, excluding weekends, the only time we’re consistently all together is at breakfast time; though it was perhaps our work-patterns which started all this?

Lynnda and Jess aren’t particularly close to their wider family, but we did all go to Nana-May’s birthday bash; it was on a Saturday evening and for various reasons I’d not had even an hour’s sleep since finishing my shift the previous night, so by nine-thirty I was fading. I would’ve liked to have called it a night, but as Lynn and especially Jess seemed to be enjoying themselves, I took myself off to a quiet corner with a beer to rest my eyes for a while and that’s where Jessica’s Uncle Russell found me a few minutes later.

“Bloody Hell John, you look knackered!”

Russell had been at our wedding, but I didn’t know him well and I really just wanted to sleep, so I offered nothing beyond a non-committal grunt in reply; that didn’t deter Russell: “To be expected I suppose; married to the foxy Jessica, I’ll bet she never gives you a moment to sleep at home…”

I was still wondering how to take that comment — a sleight or a joke? – when Uncle Russell continued “… she’s the spitting-image of her mother at that age and if she’s even half-way to being the cock-slut that Lynnda was back in the day, then you’ll need to follow Jack’s example and get yourself some help in keeping her satisfied.”

That woke me up! I’d never met Jessica’s father; Jack had been killed when she was only twelve, long before I’d appeared on the scene and while Jess doted on his memory, from what I’d heard elsewhere, I hadn’t missed much. However, his suggestion that Lynn, had been some sort of nymphomaniac who’d played around on husband was hard to swallow; throughout the years I’ve known Lynn, she’s always appeared to be the quintessential conservative, middle-class, middle-English mother and my answer confirmed that opinion: “Lynn? Bollocks! I don’t believe you.”

Russell gave me a leer as he dropped into the chair beside me: “Oh it’s true enough, I’ve been there myself; I could tell you tales about our la-di-dah Lynnda that’d make your teeth curl.”

Russell’s speech was slurred, he was clearly more than half pissed, but the look in his eyes suggested that he believed what he was saying. Under the guise of getting more comfortable, I pulled my phone from my hip pocket, subtly opening the ‘record’ app as I tossed it onto the coffee table between us: “OK, I’m listening.”

“Not a word of bullshit; Lynnda had loose knickers from the off. I was the one who popped her cherry, long before Jack got a turn; my brother Tony and me both fucked her regular… me and Tony have always reckoned that our Dad shagged her a time or two as well…” Russ continued for almost ten minutes, with only the odd question or intervention from myself; my teeth didn’t curl, but my cock certainly did; if our conversation hadn’t been interrupted, I might’ve come in my pants!

As Russell’s wife, Aunt Sandra dragged him away his parting shot was “If you need any help… with either of ’em; you just let me know.” My hands trembled as I turned off the phone and returned it to my pocket, praying that it had picked-up all that he’d said; the potted history that Russell related was wild enough in itself, but uncles Russ the clarity was variable, but hell, there wasn’t much I’d forgotten from the first telling and certain phrases echoed repeatedly inside my skull:

“Our Lynnda was up for anything; she liked it rough.” – “Didn’t always say yes, but she wasn’t capable of saying no.” – “that’s how she liked it; just grab her and take what you wanted.” – “It was me that introduced her to Jack, we were workmates and when I started dating Sandra I passed Lynn on to him.” – “Of course I made him promise that I’d still get to take a turn from time to time.”

“They had some wild parties.” – “One night we squeezed five cocks at once into Lynnda! No room to do fuck all, but they were all inside her.” – “Sandra liked to play too; neither were lesbians, but they both loved to munch on a spunk-filled twat while someone fucked them from behind.”

“It was Jess that buggered things up; when she was about eight Jack she didn’t say no, but she told Jack and he kicked my arse for it.”

“I thought about having another pop at her after Jack died, but Lynn maybe guessed and spoke to Sandra; she told me to leave her alone and keep it in my trousers” — “Probably still worried about Jess finding out then; but she’s grown up now, so it may be worth trying bahis şirketleri again?”

Russ had been pissed and no doubt exaggerating too, but from what I’d heard about Jack, I suspected that there might be more than a grain of truth in his tale? Recollections of my few conversations with aunt Sandra only added to that suspicion; she’d invariably been more than flirtatious and as could equally be said of Lynn, despite their years, both were attractive and very shapely women.

I said nothing to Jessica, nor learnt anything from the few subtle enquiries I risked making about her memories of her father and childhood. The one time I tried similar with Lynnda, she proved very reticent about discussing that era and wore a rather quizzical and somewhat discomfited expression as she spoke; I didn’t chance enquiring again.

The idea that my strait laced Mother-in-Law was, or could have ever been, the incestuous, gang-bang slut that Russell described was, on the face of it, ludicrous; but the more I thought — and listened to that recording – the more I began to believe. Lynn was certainly diffident, so perhaps she was sexually submissive too? Whilst you couldn’t level those characterisations at Jessica, who was very… adventurous, sexually, but that trait was either inherited or acquired, so there was a good chance it’d come primarily from Lynn? So definitely maybe.

I kept a lid on things for almost two months until the morning, Pandora’s Box got thrown open: I was just home from a night-shift and Jess was dressed ready for the office; Lynnda didn’t need to be up for a few more hours, but as ever — the maternal thing? – she was flitting around the kitchen in a bathrobe making breakfast for us all. What Lynnda wore beneath I’d never seen, but as the robe was decidedly matronly – stretching from neck to ankle, zipped to the very top and belted at the waist for good measure — it didn’t hold out much promise for what might lie beneath.

It was all very ‘normal’ no different from yesterday or a hundred mornings before that, so what possessed me to do it? Where did I even find the nerve? Once finished Jess grabbed her bag and headed out of the door, planting a kiss on both my cheek and Lynn’s along the way; we’d heard the front door slam, and the car reverse off the drive, when Lynnda made her regular morning enquiry: “So, is it to be bed then chores or chores then sleep?”

“Depends; what is there that needs doing?”

“Erm… mmm… nothing important. The paint for the bathroom’s still not been delivered. There is a light-bulb that needs replacing in the lounge, but that’ll only take you two minutes; the new one’s on the worktop over there.”

“In that case, I’ll replace the bulb on my way and then head up to bed; what time are you heading out?”

“Not until about three, so if you’re going to bed now, I’ll no doubt see you again before I leave. Is there anything you need before you go up?”

“Yeah, you can get down here and suck my cock.”

I’m not sure which of us was the more surprised by my outburst, I certainly hadn’t planned it, I don’t remember even forming the words in my mind; though I do recall that for the first time in several days, I’d been listening to my recording of Russell on the drive home that morning. Lynn stopped dead in her tracks, mouth agape for long seconds before stuttering out a response: “I… you… w… wha… what did you just say?”

Lynnda was standing barely three feet away; lunging forward I grabbed the belt of her robe, jerked her toward me and snarled: “You heard me Lynn, get on your knees… now!”

If Lynn had put up a fight, or even simply protested in that moment, I suspect it would’ve left me red-faced and apologising, but an instant later she was knelt on the floor, with her upper body sprawled across my thighs. To this day I don’t know if Lynnda had stumbled, intended to be there, or if her legs had perhaps buckled in her shock? I didn’t wait to find out; unfastening my jeans to release an already stiffening cock with one hand, I seized Lynn by her ash-blonde hair with the other. “There you go Lynn, get it nice and hard… ready for your pussy.”

“I … I… No! You’re married to Jessica… you can’t ask me to do that.”

“I wasn’t asking Lynnda, I was telling you. Now… Suck… My… Dick!”

Lynnda finally struggled as she plead: “Don’t be disgusting; I can’t do that. You’re my Son-in-Law for God’s sake. It’d be… be… it’s just…”

“Incest? I’m not sure that it is; then again, even if I’m wrong that would hardly worry someone who’s already fucked both her brothers… and her father too.” The expression which crossed Lynnda’s face with that addendum, confirmed that Russ had been right; Lynn went pale and began trembling as I pressed her toward my now fully erect cock and concluded: “And now it’s my turn to fuck you.”

Lynnda’s resistance ended there, without another word, bahis firmaları indeed barely a whimper, her hand wrapped around the base of my cock and guided it as she rolled forward to engulf it whole inside her mouth; I’m not small, so Lynn must’ve taken it right down her throat! Over the next few minutes I enjoyed the greatest – by far! – blow-job that I’d ever had; Lynnda might well portray the prim-and-proper matron nowadays, but that was clearly a facade; this lady had sucked cock before and probably lots of them.

I still had one hand ensnared in Lynnda’s hair but it wasn’t necessary, she was bobbing-up and down on my prick like a well paid hooker, her tongue laving around the crown on each withdrawal. While the fingers of one hand stroked on my shaft, those of the other caressed and scratched my scrotum and even teased at my arse. Lynnda was really going for it and the litany of foul-mouthed and degrading words that her actions soon had me voicing, seemed only to incite her further; ‘filthy and/or cock-swallowing, whore’ were clearly Lynn’s favourites.

It wasn’t long before I felt my climax begin to approach and wondered, even feared, that this may prove to be a catalyst for Lynn to regain her composure and the shit to hit the fan? Lynnda obviously sensed it too and a few seconds later, her head lifted away from my groin, stared directly into my eyes and spoke: “Just let it go John, I’ll swallow it if you want; afterwards, you can order your filthy whore to get it hard again before you fuck her.” It was my turn to stare with my mouth-agape; I barely even managed to nod my assent.

Lynn’s hands had never stopped and those, along with the salacious smile which concluded her proposal tipped me over the edge; the first discharge of my climax caught Lynn full in the face before her lips had returned to my cock. Lynnda didn’t falter and my prick was back between her lips before the second ejaculation followed and that, along with the third and fourth were all gulped down eagerly. I tightened my grip in Lynnda’s hair, pressed her face harder against my cock and growled: “All of it you dirty-slut, don’t you dare leave a drop.”

Without a qualm, Lynn redoubled her efforts, applying her fingers tongue and cheeks in squeezing every last driblet from me. Only when I was finally drained did Lynn lift her head to again look me directly in the eye, while her fingers assiduously scraped-up the stream that I’d sprayed across her face; this too followed the rest between her hungry lips. By then, a cat-that-got-the-cream — literally? – grin had spread across Lynn’s face, which had me twitching in anticipation of the pleasures to undoubtedly follow.

Without breaking our eye contact, my hands moved to the neckline of Lynn’s bathrobe from where I slowly and deliberately pulled the zipper down to her waist; having slipped the robe off her shoulders, Lynnda shimmied her own arms, causing it to fall in a soft circle about her hips. What Lynn wore to bed was finally revealed: The gown was high-necked and modest, but lacy and diaphanous, a world away from the sexless, mumsy robe which had always hidden it; my cock managed another twitch of rebirth and the hint of smile which crossed Lynnda’s face suggested that she’d felt it too.

Lynnda’s gaze appeared compliant, perhaps even expectant and I didn’t wish to disappoint; without a word I returned my hands to her neckline, took hold of Lynn’s nightgown and casually ripped it open to her navel. Lynnda’s yelp of surprise morphed into an almost feline purr of pleasure as I pulled it free of her shoulders, whereupon Lynnda once again shimmied free of its confines.

Lynn’s breasts were gorgeous, perhaps not quite so large as they appeared — were her bras padded? – but despite Lynn’s age and motherhood, they still stood high on her rib-cage, full and proud with the nipples pointing upward. And oh, those nipples… A deep walnut brown rather than Jessica’s pinky-red and much larger in both their girth and projection; Lynn was clearly aroused but as my hands slipped south to play with those delicate treats, I’d no doubt that they would dwarf Jess’ even when at rest.

That touch elicited a gasp of pleasure from Lynn and when I leaned forward to encapsulate her other nipple in my mouth, it was her turn to grab me by the hair and press my face firmly against her breast as she moaned “Harder”. A twist to Lynnda’s right nipple and a gentle teeth-nip to the left brought a repeat of both her growl and the demand for me to treat her more harshly; it was only upon Lynn’s third appeal that Russell’s words returned to mind: ‘She likes it rough’.

I hesitated for a few seconds then pinched and twisted Lynnda’s right nipple cruelly; she squealed in pain, but fairly slammed my face against her left breast and wailed “Yes…Like that!” Without further incitement, I sank my teeth into Lynn’s left nipple and worried it like a dog, she kaçak bahis siteleri howled in a similar fashion and ground her crotch hard against my knee. Only then did I realise that Lynnda had been rubbing her sex against me for some while and that, in conjunction with my abuse of her nipples, had triggered her powerful orgasm.

I continued to indulge myself upon Lynn’s breasts as she recovered, still forceful, but not with the savagery of earlier; it must’ve been almost two minutes before she finally raised her head from my shoulder. I was as hard as a nail once more, something Lynn spotted immediately and confirmed with a croon of “Oh goody, that’s what I really need.” Leaping to her feet Lynnda wiggled her hips, causing the bathrobe and torn nightgown to fall to her ankles; she was still wearing her panties — again, modest but lace and sexy — as she held out a hand toward me and rasped “Take me to bed John, I can’t wait.”

Secure in the knowledge that Russell hadn’t been bullshitting, I now had the confidence to tease my submissive Mother-in-Law; with a ponderous mien and a nodding head, I enquired: “My bed or yours?”

A look of horror spread across Lynnda’s face before she cried: “No! Not in Jessica’s bed; you can’t fuck me there!”

Reaching out and grabbing Lynnda by her panties rather than the proffered hand, I jerked her toward me; with the other hand I pulled her pants-crotch aside and thrust two fingers roughly into her pussy. I wasn’t surprised by how wet and yielding I found it, nor by the almost bestial growl of pleasure with which Lynnda accommodated the intrusion. Maintaining my harsh expression I ground those fingers deep into her and snarled: “You’re my slut now Lynn. I can fuck you anywhere I damn-well choose.”

Tears of apparent distress were escaping from Lynnda’s eyes as she nodded in compliance, though Lynn’s febrile groans hadn’t abated nor had the steady rotation – to better meet my intruding fingers? – of her hips; both suggesting that she was far from upset at her situation. I pressed things further: “I can’t wait either, so why don’t you show me just what a whore you can really be; climb up on here and fuck me, while I chew your tits off, we’ve got all morning, so I can take you to bed later.”

Lynn’s crocodile tears dried-up in the instant and in seconds she’d dropped her knickers, kicked them aside and straddled me. A few moments to guide my cock between the soft leaves of her labia, before Lynnda sank down with a groan of satisfaction, absorbing me completely in a single stroke. Lynnda once again grabbed me by the hair and for an instant looked me squarely in the eyes, before pulling my face between her boobs.

As my tongue swept across her breast, Lynn’s hips began to thrust and she whispered: “My afternoon appointment isn’t vital, I can cancel it if you haven’t finished with my cunt by then; you might want to fuck mummy’s bum too? I know that Jessica doesn’t do that for you.” It’s was fortunate that I’d already dumped that first load or Lynnda’s words might’ve tipped me over the edge right then.

The prospect of fucking Lynn’s arse remained at the forefront of my mind even as she began riding me like a fury; slamming herself down on my cock before pressing forward on each withdrawal to scrape the shaft hard against her clit. My choice of position was perhaps fortuitous, as each time Lynnda orgasmed — and that was often! – I gained a few seconds of respite from her wanton frenzy, before she began once again.

I wasn’t totally idle, slapping, pinching, scratching and biting on Lynnda’s breasts and bum; it must’ve hurt, like hell? But Lynn constantly pleaded for ‘more’, ‘again’ and ‘harder’ and I punctuated each transition between Lynn’s swollen nipples, with a foul-mouthed tirade:

Dirty slut or whore, remained favourites, but taking a lead from Lynn herself, I now used the c-word and regularly called her mother or mum; it seemed that any reference to ‘Mummy’s wet, filthy or slutty cunt’ would invariably add a few further tremors when each of Lynn’s orgasms began to wane, she really was inflamed.

Having already been drained once and aided by the hiatus which each of Lynnda’s orgasms — there were plenty of those! – afforded, I’d guess she rode me for more than twenty minutes, perhaps even half an hour, before my own climax. That arrived like a bolt from the blue; to be honest I was by then more concerned with thoughts of my cock being sore and my thighs perhaps being bruised by Lynnda’s frenzied lovemaking. So what was it doing to her? I’d just been sat there and I was fucking knackered, how had Lynn ever kept it going at that pace?

As I said, one moment I was sat there with Lynnda grinding down on me, the next moment — Pow! I went off like a volcanic eruption, spunk hosing into Lynn’s snatch and all but silent as my teeth and fingers both bit deeply into the pale flesh of her boobs. Lynn howled like a banshee, her pussy spasmatically clenching around my cock and a torrent of fluid — Lynn’s not mine! – poured from her cunt. I could feel it drench my thighs before dripping from there to the floor; had she pissed herself?

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