The second day of my ex-mother-in-law’s stay with me on the island. We discover more of her innate sexuality
Please read Janet on the island (part 1) before reading this (part 2). It will make better sense.
We sat in the warm and cosy kitchen eating breakfast. Looking across the table I was trying to work out how it was possible for her to eat yet still retain a smile on her face. I think that Janet was pleased with life. I had stocked up in anticipation of her visit and so was able to prepare a traditional fried breakfast, bacon, sausages, fried egg and toast. Janet initially chose fried eggs on toast (chicken on a raft) but after a few mouthfuls said, “that sausage looks good”. Oh the inuendo.
Whilst we were eating we discussed the day ahead. Janet had draped herself in the shirt I had worn the day before and looked very appealing but I resisted the urge to carry her back to bed as we went through a possible itinerary. She wanted to explore the island and so we discussed where to go. Once our sightseeing tour had been agreed we had to get ready and that meant …… well ……….. getting ready.
Janet confided in me that she had never shared a shower before as I held her in a soapy embrace. Initially she stood back onto me under the warm spray but she turned half way round to angle her head so that we could kiss. My hands lathered up I reached down to finger her cunt, at the same time, with the other hand exploring her backside, wriggling between her cheeks until I had a finger gently massaging her bumhole. The kiss intensified as my fingers pushed into her, front and back. She broke the kiss to say, “oh that is such an odd sensation having your finger in my anus”. “It’s your arsehole” I uncouthly replied, “let’s call it what it is”. Janet moved her lips back to mine to resume the kiss as I slowly worked a second soapy finger into her arsehole. She moaned into my mouth, “oh I like that”.
Later, as we were dressing she confided that she had never been touched there before. “There is so much more to explore” I said, and I wasn’t talking about the island.
We finally emerged into the morning sunshine and we climbed into my ancient Landrover. A beat up relic with a canvas top, rattly doors and leaking windscreen, but the mechanics were sound. The engine fired right up and we set off on what proved to be a wonderful day. We visited beaches, cliffs, hidden wooded valleys and the sweeping landscape of the broad uplands, finally driving to the far tip of the island to have lunch in the main town. Actually it was the only town on the island and anywhere else it would have been described as a village. It did though cater for both visitors and locals with a couple of pubs, a food shop and a variety of others selling souvenirs, amongst which nestled one selling books and newspapers. We bought pints of beer from a pub then took our glasses outside and sat on the harbour wall. There was a fish and chip van nearby and we lamented the fact that our breakfast was so hearty …………. perhaps another day.
Early afternoon, we drove contentedly home, Janet full of praise for, as she called it, “this magical island”. Turning off the main road that ran the length of the island, linking the ferry with the town, we drove up the hill to the cottage. As we carried our meagre shopping indoors I looked at Janet and had to pinch myself. She was really here and we had the rest of the day to enjoy. It only took a couple of minutes and we were pulling off each other’s clothes as wordlessly we the need to return to bed.
Our exploration was resumed as I slowly trailed my lips down her body until I started to lick her cunt. “Oh goodness”, breathed Janet, “that is so wonderful, I’ve never been kissed there before”. I went to energetically, my first tentative licks becoming insistent as I pushed my tongue as far into her as I could manage. She had what I would call a tight-lipped cunt that opened up like a ripe peach. Delicious. Janet squirmed beneath me and hooked her legs over my shoulders. Within but a few minutes she was crying out her first oral orgasm, all constraint forgotten, “oh yes, lick me ……… that’s it …….. aaaaah”. I struggle to put this into words so you will have to us your imagination.
I moved up to kiss her. “I don’t taste too bad do I” she laughed. Another first for Janet which was immediately followed by her moving down on me, “I want to do the same for you” as she started to kiss the head of my cock. She first looked at it closely. I am uncut, a bit above average length but vey fat with a large head covered with a generous foreskin. Janet slowly peeled back until the head was fully exposed, her lips gently nuzzling before opening up to take me into her mouth. She pulled back and looking back up at me and said, “this is my first time”, then back to engulf me.
I had been pretty strung out as I had eaten her but now, seeing this wonderful, mature woman enjoying her first time sucking cock was more than I could take. I warned her that I wouldn’t last long and she lifted her head off me to say, “I want to taste you”. That was it; I felt it start to rise as she plunged her mouth back onto my cock, moaning and purring so that the vibrations hastened the end for me and I erupted ……………… my spunk filling her mouth. She tried to swallow but there was such a build-up that the excess flowed down to drench my balls. I don’t think that I had ever before produced so much.
We lay back, the afternoon light filtering through the bedroom window, bathing us in warmth as we drifted off to a contented sleep. The sun moved slowly across the sky and the shadows lengthened as the day progressed. We cuddled, kissed, fucked and talked about our cuddling, kissing and fucking. We agreed that was what we were doing, not making love, we were fucking. With that came an acceptance that coyness had no part to play and we would say and do whatever came into our heads.
Another first for Janet was calling her vagina a cunt. The way she said it, at first tentatively and then relishing the sound of it, “my cunt”. What some would call crudeness seemed for us just right. Her reaction when I told her that I planned to lick her arsehole was an intake of breath but then, “oh that’s so bad”, said with a smile followed by, “will you expect me to lick yours?” The smile never wavered.
In the evening, after yet another delightful shower together we sat by the fire waiting for the stew to finish cooking. It had been a perfect day of exploration, around the island and around each other. There is so much more to see on this island I told her. “I think that I am learning more about myself than the island” Janet replied.
Looking at her, I could see a glow. She may be a mature woman of 53 years but to me she was a young girl finding out about life. I was 30 years her junior. She had a son who was a few years older than me and two daughters who were closer in age. We both knew that there would be no future but, for these few days we were content with life.
We had not talked about her daughter, my ex-wife but Janet turned the conversation in that direction. “It’s such a pity that it didn’t work out between you but I could see that you were totally different people”. “Was she like me?” I didn’t expect that question and took a while to answer. “No I shouldn’t have asked” she said but I decided to tell her about my time with her daughter.
I was not sure if this was wise but I told her about the arguments, the disagreements but then thought back to those initial few months of the first flush when all seemed good. I told her about our lovemaking and then moved on to tell her about the differences between mother and daughter. I was unsure if she wanted such a comparison, if it was wise or not but I carried on and she listened.
You look different, you feel different, you respond differently, you kiss differently and the taste of you is not the same. Janet listened eagerly as I described how her daughter had told me that she liked me licking her but she would never suck me, “it was dirty”. “Oh the poor girl”, said Janet, “she has missed so much”. Our conversation moved on to other subjects, but this was a theme to which we would return.
The night had drawn in as we ate, soft music on the radio. A haven of peace and contentment. In bed we once again moved together in that age-old rhythm; our pace perfectly matched as we climbed to our final orgasm of the day.
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