My Mother-in-Law and I, Alone on a Summer Saturday

Elena is fifty-four years old and was never the kind of woman who sought attention. Short, sturdily built, with those broad hips that tight trousers could never hide, no matter how hard she tried. What did draw the eye — even if she hadn’t meant it to — was her ass. Huge, round, always outlined beneath the fabric of whatever dress she wore.

Elena preferred dresses. She said jeans were uncomfortable in the heat. I suspected it had to do with her hang-ups about her legs — thick, white, with that softness skin has when it never sees the sun — legs she was ashamed of and that drove me crazy.

I’m not exactly a magazine model. At thirty-four I carry the extra weight of someone who played football in his teens and quit at twenty-five. My name is Marco and I’ve been married to Valeria, Elena’s daughter, for eight years. We married young, with that conviction that love is enough for everything. Maybe it was, for a while. Now we have two children and the times we get into bed together are spaced farther apart than I’d like.

Valeria has the same ass as her mother. She inherited it with millimetric precision. And that, for my peace of mind, didn’t help at all.

With Elena I was always attentive, considerate, what she called “a gentleman,” very different from the difficult temper of Rodrigo, her husband, who worked as a security guard for a transport company and came home in a bad mood three days out of five. Elena defended me when she argued with Valeria, without my asking her to. And I repaid that affection by being respectful, kind, always saying the right thing at the right time.

Of course, that didn’t stop me from staring at her ass every time she turned around.

I did it without brazenness, but not exactly discreetly either. A glance when she stretched to reach something from a shelf, a lingering look when she climbed the stairs ahead of me and the dress clung to her buttocks, tracing the cleft. Elena had noticed: when other people were around, she covered herself more than usual. She crossed her legs, smoothed her dress down, put a cushion over her knees. But when we were alone, she did none of that. She didn’t show any more, either. She simply stopped covering herself.

We never said anything about it. It was a game without explicit rules and with no possible future. Or that’s what I thought.

***

The Saturday everything changed, my boss let us out at noon. I was on my way to the car when Valeria called me: could I stop by her mother’s place and drop off a package, since she was out shopping with our eldest daughter and wouldn’t be back until night? Rodrigo had left with my son that morning to watch a game. Everyone would be back around eight.

I agreed without thinking too much about it. It was on my way.

Elena opened the door wearing one of the floral dresses she used around the house. The fabric clung to her body with every movement, and when she turned to let me in, her ass was outlined exactly as I remembered it in my worst moments of weakness. She smelled of soap and floor cleaner. She’d been mopping.

“What a surprise, Marco. Come in, come in,” she said, with that genuine smile she had when she was truly pleased.

I handed her the package. Elena opened it, checked it with a furrowed brow, and shook her head.

“This isn’t what I ordered. Valeria mixed up the request.”

“What did you need?”

“Something else,” she said, and laughed a little. “You’ll have to come back Monday.”

But I didn’t leave. I stayed in the living room, and she didn’t ask me to go.

I asked how she was. Elena settled into the big couch and stretched out one leg with a gesture of forced relief.

“My legs,” she said. “The doctor gave me a cream for the discomfort, but I can’t quite manage to apply it properly myself.”

There was a two-second silence. Enough to make a decision I shouldn’t have made.

“I can do it,” I said. “I took a massage course a few years ago. You know that.”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” she said.

“Elena, we’ve known each other ten years. It’s just the feet and calves. I’m practically a son to you.”

I insisted. I don’t know why I insisted so much. And what I least expected to happen was exactly what happened: she said yes. That I should wait, that she was going to rinse off because she’d been cleaning.

I was left alone in the living room, listening to the water run. I couldn’t believe she’d said yes.

***

Elena came out of the bathroom in the same dress, freshly showered. She sat on the couch across from me and stretched her legs carefully, holding the fabric with both hands so it wouldn’t ride above her knees. Her feet were well cared for, painted a dark red. I started with her ankles.

That Saturday’s heat was brutal. Within five minutes I was already sweating, from the position, the situation, and what was in front of me. Elena noticed.

“If you want, you can shower,” she said, with a naturalness that threw me off. “There’s a pair of Rodrigo’s shorts in the bathroom. You’ve just come from work, don’t worry about it.”

I went to get them. They were smaller than I’d expected, very tight on the legs. I put them on without underwear because I didn’t feel like putting my own back on.

When I came back to the living room, Elena’s eyes dropped for an instant before I could stop them. Just an instant. They went straight to the bulge the shorts outlined without mercy. Then she smiled as if nothing had happened and we resumed our previous position.

I kept massaging. Elena rested her extended legs toward me, with her feet at the height of my thighs. I worked with the cream, moving slowly from her ankle up to her calf. The dress remained bunched in her hands.

At one point, when I pushed against the sole of her foot to stretch the tendon, her toe brushed the edge of my shorts. Just that. An accidental touch. Elena didn’t mention it. Neither did I. I kept going.

But my body reacted. I felt my cock swell against the tight fabric of the shorts, blood pounding down there. I couldn’t control it.

When I moved on to the other foot and crossed it toward me, Elena’s calf pressed lightly against my shorts, against my hard cock. I didn’t move. Neither did she. And after a moment in which neither of us said anything, the pressure became deliberate. Soft, but deliberate. Her calf moved barely at all, up and down, rubbing against the bulge that was now impossible to hide.

Elena had her eyes closed.

I didn’t.

“Can you go a little higher?” she said without moving. “My upper calves bother me too.”

My hands moved up. The dress had loosened — she no longer held it down — and the hem was above her knees. Elena’s legs were soft, white, warm under the cream. I stroked them more than I massaged them. I spread her thighs a little with my hands, sliding inward, toward that soft, pale area gathered up high. She didn’t correct me. On the contrary, she parted her knees another inch and breathed deeper.

“A little more,” she said.

I had to stand up. And when I did, the shorts left no doubt about what was happening to me: my cock made a clear vertical line beneath the thin fabric, the tip pressing against the waistband. Elena opened her eyes right then. She looked there, without trying to hide it, for a long, long couple of seconds. She ran her tongue over her lower lip. Then she closed them again.

“I’m uncomfortable here,” she said. “There’s more room in the bedroom and I can stretch out better.”

She got up and walked down the hall. I followed her, watching her trembling ass beneath the dress, knowing perfectly well we were done talking about legs.

***

In the bedroom, Elena lay face down on the bed. Without me saying a word, she lifted the hem of her dress to her waist. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The ass I’d spent years watching in secret was there, with no fabric between us, huge and real and completely different from how I had imagined it so many times. White, round, heavy, with a deep cleft dividing it, and lower down between her thighs, my mother-in-law’s cunt, covered in dark hair, already shining with wetness.

My mouth went dry.

I moved closer and placed my hands on her hips. Elena didn’t move. She only buried her forehead in her crossed arms and breathed deeply. I ran my palms over her ass cheeks, squeezed them, spread them with my thumbs. Elena let out a short moan into the pillow. I grabbed her with both hands and pressed my face into all that hot flesh, then ran my tongue from her cunt upward, one long, slow lick that made her hips tremble.

“Marco…” she whispered, and it was not a no.

I ate her from behind, with her face down and her ass parted against my face. I licked her cunt all over, slipped my tongue inside, found her swollen clit and worked it slowly in circles, while my hands never let go of her ass. Elena began to move her hips against my mouth, grinding shamelessly, soaking my chin. The taste was thick, with something salty to it, with that roughness of a mature woman that got me harder than I’d been in years.

“God, not like that, not like that,” she panted, but she opened her legs wider.

When I lifted my head to catch my breath, she turned over, sat on the edge of the bed, and looked me in the eyes for the first time since we had entered the room. Her cheeks were red, her dress wrinkled at the waist, her big breasts hinted at under the damp fabric.

“Come here,” she said, her voice hoarse.

It was her who took the initiative. She found my cock through the fabric of my shorts, with no hesitation, and squeezed the whole bulge in her palm. And what she did next was no accident: she yanked them down. My cock sprang out hard, rigid, pointing at her face. Elena looked at it for a second, swallowed, and grabbed it with her right hand.

“It’s big,” she said, almost surprised.

“Elena, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up.”

She opened her mouth and took it all in. She sucked me off with her eyes closed, with a calm I hadn’t expected, moving her head back and forth, drawing it out shining with saliva and swallowing it again. With her other hand she gripped the base and cupped my balls. I put my fingers in her hair, not pushing, just touching her, and she made a purring sound in her throat that shot straight through my spine.

She pulled my cock out of her mouth with a wet pop and looked up at me from below, her lips glistening.

“It’s been years since someone got me this hard in their hand,” she said.

“Elena…”

“Shut up, Marco. Don’t talk.”

She sucked me again, deeper this time, forcing herself down until I felt her hit the back of her throat and she coughed just a little and kept going. We stayed like that for a good while, both of us silent except for the wet sound of her mouth and my ragged breathing, the fan turning on the ceiling.

“This is wrong,” she said at one point, pulling off to speak and taking me back in two seconds later.

“I know,” I said, almost voiceless.

“This shouldn’t be happening.”

“No.”

There was a pause. She looked up at me, my cock resting against her cheek.

“But you’ve been watching me for a long time,” she said.

“A long time,” I admitted.

“I knew it,” she said, and added nothing else. She went back to sucking me.

When I felt I was close, I lifted her by the shoulders and put her face down again. I hiked her dress back up to her waist, spread her ass cheeks apart with both hands, and knelt behind her between her parted legs. I ran the tip over her wet slit, up and down, rubbing against her swollen clit until she pushed her ass back, looking for me.

“Put it in already,” she panted into the pillow. “Put it in, Marco, for God’s sake.”

I shoved it in with one long, firm thrust. Elena let out a cry she smothered into the pillow and clenched the sheets in her fists. She was soaked, hot, tight. I stayed still for a second, buried to the hilt, feeling her cunt contract around my cock as it adjusted.

I started moving slowly. She gripped the pillow with both hands as I began to pump. I let the tension go little by little, and when she did, she started answering me, pushing her ass back each time I thrust forward, matching her rhythm to mine, until the sound of her buttocks slapping against my hips filled the whole room.

“I’ve imagined this for years,” I said, watching my cock slide in and out, shining between those two huge cheeks.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Why not?”

“Because then I have to remember I’m your mother-in-law.”

“And does that change anything?”

Elena took a few seconds to answer. I gave her a deep thrust, holding myself inside, circling it against her back wall.

“No,” she said finally. “It doesn’t change anything. Keep going, keep going, don’t stop.”

She kept moving against me, impaling herself, hunting for the angle. I grabbed her hips with both hands and started fucking her hard, driving her against the bed, pulling almost all the way out and sinking back into her to the balls. Elena began to moan louder and louder, less restrained each time, short muffled cries that had me seeing stars.

“Like that, like that, like that,” she panted. “Harder, Marco, harder.”

I slapped her right cheek. Her whole ass shook. Elena cried out and shoved her ass back at me, asking for another. I gave her one more, harder, and watched my handprint redden on her white flesh. I grabbed it, squeezed it, and let go again.

When I felt her trembling and contracting around my cock, when I felt her legs stiffen and saw her bury her face in the pillow to scream her orgasm without anyone hearing it out on the street, I almost came too. I had to pull out. I stayed kneeling behind her with my cock shining, throbbing, leaking her.

Later, when I asked if I could do anything else, if I could have her from the other side, she said no. She said no twice. I ran the wet tip of my cock along the cleft of her ass, up to that tight little dark eye between her cheeks, barely touching. Elena shivered.

“Marco, no,” she said.

“Just a little. I promise.”

“No, not there.”

The third time, in a very low voice, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear even though we were alone, she said yes.

“But slowly,” she whispered. “Very slowly. No one’s ever done me there.”

I put two fingers in my mouth and slicked them up well with saliva. I spread her ass with my other hand and rubbed spit into the hole, circling it, pressing the tip of my finger lightly against the ring. Elena tensed all over. I eased one finger in slowly, to the knuckle, then the second, feeling her breathe deeply each time I advanced a millimeter. When I felt her yield a little, when the ring loosened around my fingers, I pulled them out and set the head of my cock there.

I pushed without force, barely pressing. The tip worked its way in. Elena clenched her teeth and held on. I let a little more saliva slide down and pushed another centimeter, and another, while she breathed hard through her nose.

“Hold on,” I said. “Hold on, hold on.”

“It hurts,” she whispered. “But don’t stop.”

Then, little by little, the tension eased, her fingers let go of the pillow and she herself began to move back very slowly, impaling her own ass on my cock, taking a little more each time. The tightness was brutal. I could feel the ring squeezing the base, how every centimeter inside burned. I gripped her hips and started moving, short and careful, in and out only a little.

“My God, my God,” she panted into the pillow, “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me.”

When I reached the limit I couldn’t hold it anymore. I told her, told her I was coming, and she said inside, inside, don’t pull out. I thrust one last time to the hilt and came right there, long, hot jets of semen spilling into my mother-in-law’s ass while she jerked with every pulse of my cock. Elena stayed completely still, breathing slowly, her face buried in the pillow.

“My God,” she said, when I finally let her go and pulled my cock out slowly, watching a white thread run down from her cleft.

I lay down beside her and held her. She didn’t pull away. I ran a hand through her hair, over her still-sweaty back, and felt her body tremble with the aftershocks.

***

She got up first. She went to the bathroom without saying anything, walking a little stiffly. I followed her.

“No, Marco,” she said when she saw me in the doorway.

I went in anyway. She was under the spray with her eyes closed, letting the water run over her hair, over her big, sagging breasts, over her soft belly, over her thighs. She didn’t cover herself. She looked at me when I came in and closed her eyes again.

I kissed her shoulder. Then her neck. I lowered my mouth to a dark nipple, wrinkled by the cold water, and sucked it slowly until I felt it harden against my tongue. Elena put a hand on the back of my neck without saying anything. I slid my other hand between her legs from underneath and rubbed her cunt with two fingers, up and down, and she parted her legs just enough to let me in. When I turned her toward me and kissed her on the mouth, she took two seconds to kiss me back. Those two seconds mattered more than I cared to admit. Then she slipped her tongue all the way into my mouth and grabbed my cock again, already half hard, squeezing it beneath the spray.

The water was cold by the time we got out.

We dressed in silence. She without looking directly at me, I without knowing what to say. Elena ran her fingers through her wet hair and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.

“This can’t happen again,” she said.

“I understand,” I said.

She looked at me in the reflection.

“Do you really?”

“No,” I admitted.

Something at the corner of her mouth moved up a millimeter before she could control it.

***

Her phone rang. It was Rodrigo: the game had ended earlier than expected and they were on their way. I figured we had twenty minutes, at most.

I was in the living room with a glass of water when he arrived. I greeted him as always, with the same firm handshake. Rodrigo patted me on the shoulder.

“Good thing you’re here, Marco. Elena’s had leg trouble for days and being alone is boring.”

“I gave her a massage with the cream the doctor prescribed,” I said.

“That’s right. Always so attentive,” he said, and went to the kitchen to look for something cold.

Elena was in the hallway. She looked at me. I held her gaze without saying anything.

Rodrigo came back with a beer and, before I could say goodbye, announced that they were sending him out of town for fifteen days. Company business, he was leaving Monday first thing.

“What a coincidence,” I said. “I have to go back Monday too. About the order Valeria brought back wrong.”

Elena cleared her throat.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be here Monday.”

Rodrigo didn’t notice anything. He never noticed anything. And the two of us knew that very well.