My Mother-in-Law Waited for Me with Whiskey and a Short Nightgown

I’d been dating Camila for just over a year. She had just turned twenty, I was twenty-six. We’d met at college through a mutual friend and, at first, I wasn’t expecting anything serious: I thought it would last a couple of weeks. But the months went by, she introduced me to her mother and her younger siblings, and I ended up being the official boyfriend who stayed over some weekends.

Camila’s parents had been divorced for years. She lived with her mother, her fifteen-year-old sister, and her thirteen-year-old brother, in a single-story house with a small garden. My mother-in-law was about forty-eight. She was just over five feet tall, had generous breasts and an ass that kept its shape despite three pregnancies. She was sort of involved with an office coworker, a married man her age who visited her during work hours and little else.

Some Saturdays when I stayed the night, she’d get up to make breakfast in a nightgown that barely covered her ass and a silk robe that ended at the same height. Camila complained.

—Mom, you can’t go around like that with my boyfriend in the house.

—If I’m more covered up than I am at the beach, darling. Right or not?

While Camila huffed, her mother would look at me over her shoulder and smile. The scene repeated itself every two weeks, and I learned to have breakfast staring into my cup.

***

I’d always gotten along well with Camila’s father. With Camila’s uncle, on the other hand, we couldn’t stand each other. Years before, we’d worked for the same company, and I was the one who proved he’d been skimming from petty cash. He tried to pin it on me and it backfired: the shortages had started months before I joined, and they continued while I was out of the country. So when the whole family went to his birthday that Saturday, I made my excuses. I was working late at the office and, besides, I didn’t feel like running into him.

We’d agreed that I’d go straight to Camila’s place and wait for her. The plan was to pick her up, have a light dinner, and go out dancing with some friends. I got there around nine, with a backpack over my shoulder, clothes for the night, and my head set on the shower I needed.

My mother-in-law opened the door. She was barefoot, wearing a short cotton dress and her hair tied up.

—Come in, son-in-law! You’re at home here.

—Hi, mom-in-law. Excuse me.

—Come on, I put something together to nibble on since I knew you’d get here before the girl.

On the coffee table in the living room there was a board with cured meats, cheeses, olives, and crackers. Next to it, a bottle of whiskey, an ice bucket full of ice, and two prepared glasses. My mother-in-law had always liked to drink.

—You were going to shower, right?

—Yeah, but I’m starting with a drink. How long have you been waiting for me?

—About as long as it takes for an ice cube to melt. Help yourself, take it easy.

***

We chatted about unimportant things: work, the kids, a series she was watching. I was already on my third whiskey when she looked at me over the rim of her glass.

—Aren’t you going to take that shower?

—I am. But I didn’t bring a towel, I forgot.

—Go on, I’ll bring you one in a second.

I closed the bathroom door and turned on the tap. The hot water took a couple of minutes to come through. When I was finishing rinsing off, I heard the door open. Through the fogged-up glass I saw a short silhouette, with the nightgown stuck to her hips.

—I’m leaving the towel here, on the chair.

—Are you going to bed already, mom-in-law?

—Something like that. Want another drink with me before I go?

—I’ll get dressed and be there.

—No need to rush so much.

The door closed before I saw her leave. I dried myself slowly. Something is shifting inside this house, I thought. I put on cotton pants and a clean T-shirt, sprayed on some cologne, and walked out barefoot because the heat was turned up high.

She’d refilled the glasses. She was on the couch, one leg bent under her body and the nightgown pulled up halfway to her thigh.

—Did you read the girl’s message? —she asked when I sat down.

—No, I left my phone in the backpack.

—She says things got complicated. Her aunt got sick and they’re going to have to stay quite a while. We’ve got two or three hours, at least.

As she spoke, she uncrossed her legs and crossed them again on the other side. She did it slowly, looking me in the eye. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

***

—Can I tell you something and you won’t be offended, right?

—Tell me.

—When you stay over, don’t make the girl scream so much.

It took me a second to process it. I lowered the glass.

—Sorry. I didn’t know it could be heard.

—Everything can be heard, silly. And the problem isn’t that it can be heard. The problem is what happens to me when I hear it. —She paused, looked at the ceiling, and looked back at me—. It turns me on. And I don’t know how to show you that anymore.

—But I’m Camila’s boyfriend.

—I’ve got a married boyfriend. Why can’t I have a lover who’s part of the family?

She stood up and sat on top of me. The nightgown rode up to her waist. She took my face in both hands and offered me her breasts. I pulled the nightgown down with a gentle motion and took one nipple into my mouth. They were small, dark, and hardened immediately. She’d already opened my pants and was jerking me off slowly.

—The girl doesn’t have tits this big —she said near my ear—. Don’t you want to eat them all night?

***

She settled herself on top of me and lowered down slowly. For a woman with three kids and almost fifty years behind her, she was tighter than her daughter. Hot and wet as hell. She started moving with her eyes closed, her hands on my shoulders, sighing harder and harder.

—No wonder the girl screams. What madness, eating something like this at my age. I’m a degenerate old hag.

—You’re not a degenerate. You’re underfed.

She laughed, biting her lip.

—Want to know why your daughter screams? —I asked her—. Let’s go to her bed.

Her eyes opened wide.

—Camila’s bed?

—You’re fucking the boyfriend. Is it going to bother you to fuck him in her bed?

—Oh, yes, that gives me the jitters.

—Walk to the bedroom. Come on, I’m telling you.

I slapped one ass cheek and she went laughing like a girl pulling a prank. I closed the door behind us.

—Lie on your side, like this, spoon style.

She obeyed. I knelt behind her. I brought the tip to her and pushed it in only halfway. It went in and out without me fully sinking in. Every time she pushed back, I withdrew an inch. I ran my thumb over her ass hole, without pressing, and went back to her cunt. I repeated it five, six, ten times.

—You little son of a bitch. Put all of it in. Don’t make me suffer.

—Didn’t you want to know how the girl gets hot? This is how she gets hot.

—Please. Please. Put it in all the way.

I drove it all the way in and she let out a long cry, muffled against the pillow. Her pussy was truly tight. I put a hand on her waist and started moving hard, without pausing.

—Yes, animal, like that, give it to me, fuck me like you fuck her, give it to me, give it to me, give it to me!

—I don’t have to cover your mouth. Scream all you want, bitch.

***

I went back to the game: pulled out, teased her ass with my thumb, went back to her cunt. By then she was already pushing back looking for me. The first time I insisted on the anal, she didn’t say anything. The second time, neither. When I asked her if she was into it in the back door, she nodded against the pillow and got up.

—Let’s go to my room. I’ve got what we need.

On her bedside table there was a tube of lubricant. She put on a generous amount, put some on me too, got into all fours, and slapped her ass with an open hand.

—Go on, fuck your mother-in-law in the ass.

I aimed slowly. Just as the tip started to go in, she pushed back and drove it in all the way with one thrust. She let out a howl. I grabbed her hips and started moving with a sharp rhythm. The bed creaked, the headboard thudded against the wall. I stayed like that for five minutes, sweating as if I’d gone for a run.

—Fuck my pussy and my ass —she begged, panting—. I want everything with you.

I started alternating. Five times in the ass, five in the cunt. I went in all the way in one shot, without hesitation. She was already on her third orgasm when I heard the phone ringing in the backpack. From the ringtone, it was Camila.

I pulled out. I walked naked into the living room, grabbed the phone, and answered. My mother-in-law followed me on shaky knees and knelt in front of me, without saying a word.

—Hi, baby, how are you?

—Better. We got scared for a while here with my aunt, but it’s over now.

—I can imagine —I said, while she took me into her mouth slowly, looking at me—. Are you going to get here soon?

—That’s the thing. I’m the only adult woman left, so I’m going to stay with her. Sorry about the dancing.

—It’s okay. I’m heading home in a bit.

—No, stay, better. Tomorrow at noon I’ll go over there.

—I don’t want to make your mother uncomfortable.

—She won’t be uncomfortable! —my mother-in-law shouted from the floor, covering her mouth with her free hand and holding back laughter.

I put it on speaker by reflex.

—Mom, take care of him. Make sure he doesn’t go drink anywhere.

—Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got him under control.

—Take care of Auntie. I’ll be fine.

—That’s what I was hoping, darling. Give her a kiss from me.

I hung up. I set the phone on the coffee table. My mother-in-law was already going down on me again.

***

We went back to the couch. I put her on all fours against the backrest, grabbed her hair with one hand, and drove it into her all the way. She was screaming without stopping, clawing at the upholstery. I couldn’t hold out any longer. I left everything inside her with a couple of final thrusts and stayed there for a second, holding onto her hips, out of breath.

—Aaaah, it feels so good to have your cunt filled with something young —she murmured, still on all fours—. Luckily I can’t get pregnant anymore. Otherwise, I swear I’d have your kid. Imagine the boy: the girl’s brother and stepson.

I laughed, exhausted.

—I need another shower.

—I’m coming with you. I want to get wet again.

In the bathroom, I soaped up her breasts while she settled herself under the water. Then she bent down and sucked me until I got hard again. We were in there for almost half an hour. At some point I kissed her on the mouth. It was the first time that night I’d done it. Up until then she’d avoided kisses; she said they “created commitment.”

—Ma’am —I told her, drying myself off—. The commitment I have is with your daughter. With you, my only commitment is to come empty you out when we can see each other.

She laughed, wet and happy.

***

We ordered something for dinner. I collapsed on the couch in my boxer briefs and she put the nightgown back on, with a very obvious thong underneath. We ate in silence, watching an old movie. An hour later we were back inside each other’s bodies, slowly this time, without the urgency of the first round. I finished in her mouth and we fell asleep in our separate rooms, as if nothing had happened.

I woke up with the morning light coming through the blinds in Camila’s room. I was hard. My mother-in-law was kneeling by the side of the bed, finishing what she’d started in the middle of the night.

—Good morning, mom-in-law.

—Last night I was left wanting one final round.

I ran my hand through her hair and let her continue. When I finished, she made coffee for me and asked me to stay in Camila’s bed. “If you stay here, when she gets here I’ll still be fucking you,” she said.

She gently bit one ass cheek goodbye and went to her room.

I fell asleep again. At some point I felt something cold against my back. It was Camila’s naked ass, as she’d slipped into bed without my hearing the door.

—Come on —she whispered in my ear—. A little quick fuck, with the head, like I like it. We haven’t seen each other in days.

—Your mother is going to hear us.

—She sleeps like a log. Come on.

I did as best I could. And, while I held her against my chest, I looked at the ceiling and thought I was going to have to learn to have breakfast with my mother-in-law without staring into my cup. That part, really, wasn’t going to be so hard.