A Mother-in-law's tongue – the story prepared by Alex Birch

Story from Februs 01.

A Mother-in-law's tongue
by Julie Holmes

I am ashamed to say I was jealous because my attractive twenty-two year old daughter had a handsome young husband who seemed to be able to roger her ragged night after night and keep a sparkle in her eye that had once been in mine, but which now had been absent for a very long while.

When they first wanted to get married I had reservations. Both in their early twenties and with good jobs, there was no reason why they shouldn't get hitched, but then again there was no need to rush into it either. Still, they had their modest ceremony and took over the top two rooms in my house. They could have afforded a mortgage, but they wanted to save enough to give up work after a year and travel round the world in a camper van. I admired their energy.

We led separate lives apart from passing on the stairs and having Sunday lunch together. But every night I lay in bed, listening to the creaking furniture and my daughter's gasps and shrieks as her husband pleasured her. My daughter's good-looking, virile husband with his clean fingernails, blue eyes and gentle smile.

I cannot remember when I first realised I was attracted to Alan; I suppose I had been able to deny it before he moved in. All I knew was that my golden-haired daughter had found a perfect male counterpart and my feelings for him were miles away from being maternal.

Three weeks ago, it became unbearable. Above me, the sounds had just begun and the radio refused to drown them out. There were creaks from the bed, then some muffled giggles, footsteps crossing the floor above me. Was Alan undressing? I imagined him without his clothes, approaching an expectant Tina. I could see the love and trust on Tina's face, the compassionate lust on his. Ludicrous, degrading to want him in this way, hankering after a married man young enough to be my son and, worse, married to my own daughter. I was just glad Tina had no idea of my lascivious thoughts.

The sounds continued. Deep baritone grunts, high pitched mewlings, mingled groans. The squeak of ancient wooden joists, growing faster, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath finally expelled in the repeated chant, "Alan, Alan, oh no, Alan, ooooo, Alan, oh yeeeessssssss.."

Alan, Alan. No, please. Yes. All the words that went through my head every time I saw him. I had read about older women seducing their daughters' boyfriends or husbands and had been repelled at the thought of them. I imagined overweight, blowsy bleached blondes smelling of face powder and yesterday's deodorant; nothing like me. Yet here I was, harbouring thoughts of seducing my daughter's husband.

No matter how wrong I knew it to be, I had to have Alan for myself, at least once. It was my right, my destiny. I spent my days fantasising over him, my evenings hovering near the door so I could 'accidentally' run into him, and at night – at night I went to bed early so I could eavesdrop on their passion.

I became devious. I sent Tina on errands to keep her away until after Alan came home. Naturally, I was contrite at the inconvenience I had caused and felt obliged to invite him into my sitting room for a drink while we awaited her return. Another time, I knew he was going to have a shower and 'just happened' to be cleaning the bathroom when he walked in clad in only an inadequate towel. I always dressed smartly – no more slippers or aprons – and my make-up was perfect, whatever the time of day. Just in case.

Then, two days ago, Tina came home from work in a foul mood, thumped upstairs and, from the sound of it, threw herself on the bed and stayed there until Alan came in. Then all hell broke loose.

Apparently Tina suspected Alan of doing something behind her back and he was denying it, but I had no idea what the heinous crime was. Infidelity? Unemployment? Fancying his mother-in-law – oh surely not!

Footsteps stamped downstairs and out the front door. I went to the hallway and, after a few minutes, Alan came down looking sheepish.

"I suppose you heard all that, Alma?"

"Well, I could hardly miss it," I responded, "but I have no idea what it was about. Where has she gone?"

"I don't know. She said as she couldn't go home to mother she would go to a friend's house but I don't know which friend she was referring to."

He looked genuinely confused, but I sensed that he knew full well what he had done to upset Tina. Even as I invited him in to talk about it, my mind was racing ahead with the thought that Tina was planning to be away at least overnight and that this was my big chance. I sat him down with a large whiskey and prepared to listen.

"You know this trip we've been saving up for?" he began. "Well, I've been offered the chance to study for a year to get a further qualification. It will be vital for getting promotion or even changing my direction within the industry in the future. The trouble is, I have to agree to stay with the company for at least 18 months after the course. It means we can't set off on the great trip for about three years. I was going to take Tina away for the weekend to talk it over, but she ran into someone from my office who let the cat out of the bag. Now Tina thinks I don't want to go abroad and that I've set this up deliberately..." He paused to pour himself another drink. I did the same and took the opportunity to sit beside him on the sofa.

"The trouble is the offer is too good to turn down. The diploma will really open doors for me long-term, but Tina won't see it that way; she thinks I'm putting career ahead of our marriage."

I sighed and patted his hand. "Look," I told him. "Tina's not used to disappointments and she doesn't handle them well. Give her a couple of days and she'll come back prepared to listen. I'm sure she'll see sense. After all, even in three years time, you'll still only be in your twenties, you'll have more money saved and both of you will have good employment records to help you get re-established when you come back."

I edged a little closer, and allowed my hand to brush his knee.

"I know your relationship is strong. It will survive the odd upset. Tina won't walk out on it for the sake of deferring a trip for a couple of years. Just give her time to calm down."

He looked at my hand as if seeing it there for the first time. I had to make my move, or the opportunity might be lost forever.

"And I'll understand," I told him, "if you feel you'd rather move out and get your own place. Naturally, I'm happy for you to stay if you want to, but I think you should talk it over with Tina."

If they moved out, I reasoned, he could come and visit me. As a student, he would have free periods on his timetable – my mind was racing ahead. One quickie was all I had dared hope for and now I was contemplating a three-year affair!

Alan looked me steadily in the eye. "Alma, you've been pretty good to us and I think we all get along pretty well. But I see what you mean, there may be tensions if Tina and I live here too long. I'll think about it." He rose, but seemed reluctant to leave. "It's probably best to let her cool off, but it will seem strange being on my own upstairs tonight." Was that an invitation? I had to make my move.

"I know you make Tina very happy," I began. "You're going to think this is awful of me, but sometimes I hear you..." My hand was once more on his thigh, my body turned towards him. He had to either leave quickly or acknowledge what I was certain was a mutual desire. His blue eyes stared curiously at me.

"So you hear us at night, do you? I suppose it's obvious what we're doing?"

"Well, I have been young and married myself, you know," I giggled. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, it's just that sometimes, well, you sound as if you're having so much fun and...."

He interrupted me as I searched for the right words. "And you feel left out? Is that what you're saying, Alma? Is that it? Do you want what Tina gets?" He was earnest and definitely not joking. His intensity was making me nervous.

"Well, Alan, I mean, I don't know, you're my son-in-law," I was stammering, out of my depth now what I had fantasised was really within my grasp. "But Tina...."

"Tina walked out on me tonight. I know she'll be back, but right now she's not here and you are. We both know what we want and what we're doing, don't we?" I nodded. "Fine. Then stand up."

His immediate mastery of the situation surprised me. I almost changed my mind , but I knew if I did there would never be a second chance. I stood, holding in my tummy, thrusting out my bosom, drawing myself up as tall and straight as I could. I wanted him to like what he saw.

"Get undressed!" Well he certainly didn't believe in long seduction scenes! I pulled down the zip of my skirt provocatively, but when I glanced up he was fiddling with the curtains. It was disconcerting to be ignored while I prepared for love-making and I paused to watch the heavy silk braids that tied back the curtains during the day. He turned to face me.

"What, still not ready. That merits an extra three." Extra three? Three what? Surely he couldn't do..... how virile was this super stud? "Come on, I'll help you."

Abruptly he wrenched off the rest of my clothing, letting it fall in a heap around us, totally ignoring the sexy lingerie I had taken to wearing for just such a moment as this. I wondered if he was this rough with Tina and, if so, whether she liked it. Did she have much experience of men or was this all she knew? I trembled, but curiosity kept me rooted to the spot. At least now he was running his hands appreciatively over my naked body. This was more in line with what I'd expected, confident caresses that made me shiver and press forward for more but when I reached out to return the compliment, he pushed my hands sharply away.

"Kneel on the sofa," he commanded. And I hastened to obey. I knelt on the soft, sagging cushions, my breasts resting on the curved back, my hands supporting my weight. I thrust out my bottom and parted my thighs so he would know how eager I was to take it from behind. It worried me slightly that it was not a particularly flattering pose for a woman of my age and generous proportions, but I hoped that passion might blur his vision.

"Very nice," he said, squeezing my buttocks as though choosing a piece of fruit.

And then it happened. Not the intimate entry I had expected, but a soft slash across both bottom cheeks, quickly followed by two more. As I turned in surprise to see what was happening, Alan remarked, "Well that's the three for tardiness, now let's get down to serious business."

He was wielding the curtain cord, bringing it down hard and fast across my buttocks. Shock prevented me from moving as the silk rope rained down, nipping rather than biting, but still stinging deeply. I thought it must be a joke but Alan wasn't laughing and I was not sure I found it all that amusing. It certainly bore no resemblance to any kind of foreplay I was used to and I had no idea how I was meant to respond.

Again he kneaded me roughly, massaging the heat deeper into my buttocks, making me squirm with discomfort and embarrassment – and more than a trace of arousal.

"OK," he barked, "stand up and give me a twirl!"

I stood awkwardly, aware of the contrast I must present to Tina's trim form. I have a good figure for my age, but it is the body of a well-preserved matron, not a nubile young woman. My breasts are heavy with dark, large nipples and, although they don't sag, they don't exactly point skywards either. My hips are full and look good in tight skirts, but nudity shows the softness and creases brought on by time. I folded my hands over my groin. I know younger women have taken to shaving or waxing down there and I was embarrassed by full thick bush.

"I said, give me a twirl," Alan said coldly. "Put your hands on your head and turn around slowly." I did as he said, consoling myself with the thought that at least this position would flatter my breasts, even if it did reveal my even more intimate area. As I turned, I caught sight of myself in the mirror over the fireplace. I looked like a tacky 'Readers Wives' entry in a men's magazine.

"Fine. Now let's get down to some serious business. Stand at the end of the sofa and bend over the arm." I stared at him. Was there to be more of this degrading treatment? Was he punishing me for trying to seduce him? I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out.

"What's the matter, Alma? You're not satisfied already, are you? Tina takes a lot more punishment than that and you wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you? I've waited a long time for the opportunity to get at that luscious arse. Now get bent over – I'm really in the mood now!"

I draped myself over the low sofa-arm, my mind reeling. So this was what I'd heard going on above me – not the passionate clinches I had visualised, but my daughter being flogged by this young pervert. It was totally beyond my experience and I had no idea how to react.

There was a slithering sound, but I resolved not to look round. This position was uncomfortable and exposed my defects cruelly. I decided to take whatever he chose to dish out – as Alan said, I should be able to take anything my daughter could – then I would tell him I wanted them both out of the house by the end of the week.

Hissing, then a loud retort as something heavy and hot crashed into my bottom. I gasped, my knees sagged and the sofa creaked beneath me. I breathed out with a groan just as another blow landed. I realised he was using his leather trouser belt, fortunately not the end with the buckle. I found it incomprehensible that Tina took this regularly and willingly. I recalled her voice, the hesitant but growing acceptance, the cries of pleasure and fulfillment. What on earth was wrong with her?

The belt lashed down again. He was a strong man and he was not holding back. I crouched low, pulling back on the sofa, resisting the urge to grab at my bottom. I heard myself growling, and Alan breathing heavily.

The toe of his shoe was cold against my burning bottom as he levered me up. "Come on, resume the position – as the saying goes– or I'll add a few more! At the moment you're going to get another six but I'll happily make it a dozen if you don't behave."

"I can't, Alan. Alan I can't stand it. Oh please, I..." but he was already pulling on my arm to get me back into the position he wanted.

"Oh yes you can – and you will, Alma. Now count aloud as each one lands, and if you miss one, you'll get an extra two in its place. Ready?"

"ONE!" It came down hard and fast, across the crease at the top of my thighs. My right foot raised itself up to ease the pain, but before it could have any effect, I heard the belt swishing down again.

"TWO!" My knees snapped straight, and I rocked back and forth, making the ancient sofa creak. I recognised the rhythm from the sounds I had heard coming from Tina's room. I sensed him step back, and tensed for the next blow.

"Alan, oh Alan, please no..." I wailed as the leather tongue licked me diagonally from the top of my right hip across the cleft of my buttocks almost to my left thigh.

"Naughty girl! That's two more you'll have to take to reinforce the lesson," he mocked and proceeded to bring the strap down on almost exactly the same track twice in quick succession. Each time I quickly called out the number three, twisting and writhing around under the impact.

Four and five mirrored the route of that dreadful third stripe and I counted them aloud, slumping forward and whinnying pitifully. Alan waited patiently for me to stand up again the way he wanted and I found myself absurdly anxious to impress him. I straightened my legs and placed my hands palm downwards on the cushions.

"I knew how much you wanted it," Alan taunted. "Ask me nicely for the last stroke or I won't give it to you."

"Please, Alan, Please give me another stroke," I begged, wondering what was happening to me.

"Louder," he mocked, "make it more convincing."

"Alan!" I shrieked, just as I had heard my daughter do. "Alan, please, Alan, another... oh yeees... YES! SIX!" I remembered just in time to call out the number of the final stroke. It curled around my bottom as though trying to melt into my flesh. I was sobbing and laughing, my disheveled hair clinging to my tear stained face.

"Now stand up with your hands on your head and turn around slowly. Look at yourself. See the changes I've brought about."

I moved in a slow circle, watching myself as directed. There was this strange blend of physical achievement and emotional shame mixed with excitement as I observed my blotched face, the fleshy curves and reddened backside with its mauve and purple bands rising up even as I watched. I turned once, and again and again, until dizziness threatened and Alan said I could stop.

"Not bad," he said grudgingly. "Tina used to slouch like you, but her deportment has improved since I began to discipline her. I think you need the same, Alma, but first Tina and I ought to move out. As soon as possible I think, don't you? Then we can make a regular arrangement... and we'll find out how much you can take."

Well what could I say? I twisted round to admire my stinging rump once more.

"Oh yes, Alan – oh yeeeeeeeeesssss.......!"

_____________
This story was scanned and prepared by Alex Birch.