Dad's Kinky New Wife Ch. 02

Story description: A wife is deceived by her son-in-law, but that perception might not be the true deception. The story continues from chapter one.

***

Amorous Reflection

Martha puffed with disappointment upon entering the house.

Traffic had snarled on the freeway and made her late. To make matters worse, Harold's bizarre instructions in the form of mobile texts had her dashing all over town. He'd been stubborn in his resolve that she wouldn't return home until the list was complete.

At the entrance, she opened the side closet door and momentarily fixed her stare upon a plastic coat hanger.

After exhaling a deep sigh, she thought, I can't believe I've agreed to participate in this silly sex game.

She then shimmied at the shoulder and broke from that mini-trance. Grasping the front of the beige trench coat, she popped the buttons and disrobed.

Now absent the obscuring jacket, she stood half naked in sexy lingerie minus a bottom.

The scandalous sensation of being adorned in such a manner along with the chilly air caused goosebumps to form upon her skin. She promptly moved to stand in front of the elongated hallway mirror to view her new appearance.

Her reflection gave a mischievous smile as it admired its sensual curves.

"Hmmm..." she purred and then batted her dark lashes.

Widening her glossy eyes, she glared alluringly at herself.

She said, "She's so fucking sexy."

Immediately following, she felt awkward for saying that.

Why am I so infatuated by my own looks? It's freaking weird. Am I acting ridiculous because of an overactive libido? People tend to do the dumbest shit when they're aroused. I guess I'm no different.

With a chuckle, she dismissed the thought and watched the woman in the mirror slide both hands along its curvaceous form.

That amorous 41-year old image smiled and then puckered its cherry red lips. Along with a seductive wink, it gave her a mimicked kiss.

My goodness, I must admit I'm still sexy-hot, even at my age.

A listless sound caused her to momentarily cock her head.

When that indistinct noise didn't return, she returned to observe her reflection.

The image of the short haired brunette stared back and it caused an unexpected tremble. That immodest woman was a titillating picture provoking a sensation that attracted her gaze downward.

As if to tease, the hem of the frilly blouse scarcely concealed the defined cleft between that woman's thighs. She found herself enamored over that delicate prize. When her reflection jutted its pelvis forward, she couldn't help but gawk that glistening furrow.

Now completely hairless, her pubic mound stood out as flushed and youthful. It accented the treasure by giving the outer lips a predominate pucker and a sleek curvy appearance.

She watched nervously while egging her reflection onward. "Do it. Do it. No one's around. It'll be okay. Just one touch."

The image crooked a naughty smile and moved its middle finger to stroke the inner ridge between two distended petals. Tenderly it slid along the slit causing a film of sticky wetness to appear.

Again, she urged herself to go further, "It's alright, don't worry. It's just to warm up. You can surprise him with how excited you are."

As a finger worked amid two meaty curtains, the thumb shifted to play upon the fleshy covering that hid a flowering bud.

Pivoting her head, she caught her reflection running a sensual tongue along its bottom lip.

"Why am I so freaking horny?" she said with an undertone.

She scrutinized the convex of that woman's heaving bosoms and their eraser-like nubs. Both nipples protruded with prominence through the thin translucent cloth. They beckoned to be clinched, and the image did. The resulting tease produced a tickling jolt that flushed downward along her body.

The reflection exhaled a soft moan as it squinted lustfully at Martha's luscious figure while undulating its pelvis with short suggestive gyrations.

Her depraved thoughts rambled. Oh, my lord, I feel so—so naughty. I'm painted up like some floozy and it stirs me. I've done similar before. Why is this different? What happened to me at the beauty salon?

She began to muse over the peculiar events from earlier.

Directing those thoughts caused a prickling sensation that rushed through her extremities and caused her thighs to shake. She hummed a droning "Ohhh," and then crimped her legs together. Gulping an inhalation of air, she then drove her right hand back to her tender cunny while the other continued to maul her right boob.

As the cogitating image reminisced over an encounter that it couldn't remember, it reacted to the intangible thought by fluttering its eyes and gaping its moist red lips to form an O.

***

Pleasurable Memories

Earlier...

Harold's instructions were a relatively short list, but each task required driving and distance took considerable time. Upon texting him that she'd finished purchasing the naughty lingerie, he replied with the final objective.

He gave an address and directed her to complete this final preparation before coming home. She admitted to being troubled over that request. His directive had her traveling to a seedy part of town. She texted back that she was frightened. His response had been a statement saying he'd never put her in danger and that she should trust him.

Knowing her husband, she accepted the explanation.

Nervously, she drove to that location. It was a spooky salon at a corner street. The entire area was devoid of people and appeared derelict.

Parking at the curb near the entrance, she sat uneasily and stared at the crooked sign that that hung inside the door. A lone light glared from behind that obnoxious placard and identified the salon as being open for business.

The ambiance of her circumstances gave an eerie vibe that disturbed her. It was like an intuitive warning that portended doom if she persisted with her husband's insufferable request.

She contemplated over her mood and shifted her gaze towards the open road.

After moments of indecision, she was jolted by a sudden, but persistent tap at the passenger side window.

Standing at the curb was an eccentric middle-aged woman gesturing for the window to be rolled down.

As it opened partway, the gaudily dressed blond with stringy braids placed a hand on the ridge of the glass. Bending forward, her colorful dress draped open at the cleavage.

On display were two shadowy endowed bosoms hanging heavy.

Martha averted her shaken gaze from that embarrassing exhibition and refocused it on the lady's face. The entirety of that woman's tawdry ensemble and decorated appearance gave the impression of a promiscuous gypsy with a quirky smile.

When the woman abruptly guffawed at her discomfiture, Martha reached to turn the key.

The chuckle ceased and the woman exclaimed with a Slavic accent, "Oh, so sorry. Couldn't help self. You stare makes me laugh. Forgives me. I am Kasha and I waits for you."

Martha furrowed her brow and cocked her head. "You're the person my husband sent me to meet? Do I know you?"

Kasha straightened and then squatted at the door. Her flamboyantly painted face became framed by the glass. Her bright cherry red lips upturned into a pleasant smile. Widening her dark mascara framed eyes, she attempted an expression of doe-like innocence. Her stare was captivating.

Altering her tone to produce a measured pitch of calm, the blond said, "Course, sweetie. Job to make beautiful for hubby. Trust—you remember if we meet. No worries, you very nervous. Kasha helps you relax before we start."

Martha smiled.

"Follow. Not much time and hubby grows impatient," the woman said.

Once seated, Martha was directed to stare into a large lighted mirror.

With a brush and a clipper, the woman began her work.

After a lengthy conversation of no import, the woman produced a shiny silver locket and opened it to show a framed photograph. She said, "See Martha, this is portrait of dear husband?"

"Yes, he's quite handsome. He looks familiar. Do I know him?"

"No darling, you not know man. Die long ago. Sad story. He good teacher. Fired for inappropriate touching. He innocent. Never touch girl bad way. She lies and parents cover for her. Everyone disregard back surgery. He only places a hand on girl's shoulder to keep from falling."

"Seems like miscommunication by all parties. Perhaps mistakes were made."

Kasha heatedly replied, "Yes, people stupid. Girl not know what improper touching mean. She only knows feel awkward. Sadly, more girls come forward and tell untruths. Everyone lies. Husband lose job and kills self. Leaves Kesha broken and sad."

"Oh my, I'm so sorry for your loss. That's a horrific story. I understand the anger."

The gypsy's frown immediately upturned into a broad creepy smile. "Do you truly?" she said. "Bah doesn't matter. Today is wonderful. I'm overjoyed knowing the deceitful girl now learns what bad touching means. All bitches and their parents will soon discover true wickedness. Kasha becomes teacher."

Martha was unsettled by those strange statements. To break the odd moment, she responded, "Ah, I'm confused. Frankly, what you said is—well—kind of weird. Don't you think?"

"Yes, yes, apologies. A life paved with tragedy often leads the mind to wander down dark roads. Memory is tricky. One's perception can often be altered into believing truths crafted by another hand. Example, look at your reflection. Kasha made you beautiful, but is it reality or just an illusion worked by my hand?"

"I'm not sure how to respond to that."

"Oh, dear me, don't answer. Just words. Before husband died, he gave this locket. It's very pretty. Yes?"

"Yes, it's an adorable pendant. Very beautiful."

Kasha rotated the glimmering trinket to catch the refraction of light coming from the bulbs outlining the mirror. Drawing Martha's eyes to the charm, she said, "Watch the shiny bauble spin and swing. Now, look at yourself in the mirror and see how pretty I made you. You have a gorgeous reflection. Do you see how it glitters and shines upon your creamy white skin?"

"Yes"

"Always twirling and swaying with your beautiful image. It relaxes and gives you a tingle. So, calm...so gentle. Like the sway of a curvy hip, it begs for attention. Do you see the lusty lady in the mirror?"

"Yes"

"That sexy woman feels naughty and aroused—doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"Kasha teach you wickedness. Do you want to learn?"

The pleasurable memories that followed became a fragmented blur.

***

Devilish Pied Piper

The mirror captured the reflection of Martha's head thrashing from side to side. Pleasurable images flashed in her mind: a pleasuring tongue, passionate kisses, hearty boobs with pointed hard nipples...

...a wet pussy engulfing her mouth.

Her eyes instantly shot wide.

"What?"

She removed her clammy hand from between her legs.

"Oh my god..."

Swiping her sweaty locks from her face, she frowned into the mirror. Her lust dissipated.

"It's that disturbing fantasy again. I'm not a lesbo. Why am I fantasizing about women? Why am I so turned on by it?"

She shook her head and then squinted at the mirror.

"I need a dick," she said adamantly in a tone meant to convince herself.

Turning away, she strolled into the Livingroom.

"Harold?"

Walking the edge of the rounded coffee table, she came to a stop.

Martha cocked her head to angle an ear towards the noise echoing from down the darkened hall.

She heard soft feminine moans and wet pounding smacks.

Her eyes narrowed. "Darn it, Harold. You're supposed to wait for me," she proclaimed with displeasure.

"Fuck me, daddy!" resounded with clarity in her own voice from down the hall.

That flirtatious phrase left her stunned with a fixed expression.

Her mind rambled in thought. It can't be me. I never said anything so silly. Did he record us having sex? I must be imagining it. That's it. He's watching some sordid taboo video without me. I admit, it sounds rather nasty. You're such a naughty boy, Harold.

Again, those girlish words, "Fuck me, daddy!"

...a gaping pussy; her mouth slurping and licking the meaty labia—a woman's clit.

She briskly shook her head to rattle herself from that delusional stimulus.

Failing that effort, she huffed in frustration and reluctantly thrust both hands between her shaking thighs.

"Need to stop...so wrong. Sick...so perverse...so good."

Cognitively she urged restraint, but the intermingled noises of fucking, groaning, and moaning drove her action. She was puzzled by her inability to prevent or change the visualized story that played in her mind. She felt slightly humiliated at knowing she was stimulated by a fantasy involving herself pleasuring some stranger's pussy.

Mentally, she argued with herself. I can't believe I'm frigging myself to sounds of some ridiculous roleplay video. I shouldn't be doing it, but the urge...those fucking noises make me so horny. I can't believe I'm almost near the edge. Need to hold back. Need to stop.

"Put it in my tight little pussy, daddy!" was spoken in the voice of her 22-year old daughter.

It was too much. Hearing some young slut say something so perverse in a voice like Carol, struck an aberrant nerve in her psyche.

She knew it was irrational to feel a need for gratification, yet that lurid sensation compelled her. Scooting her legs shoulder width, she worked her fingers feverously into her frothy moist crack while both thumbs ravaged her knobby clitoris. Gyrating her pelvis, she thrust her hips forward in short spontaneous little jerks and squealed.

...pleasurable feminine hands ravished her tits. A bobbing blond head gorged on her steamy gash.

She staggered from a prickly jolt that spiraled down both legs. Fumbling, she frantically reached out to steady herself against the wall.

Her response to this freakish reaction was to check her rapid beating pulse.

"This isn't normal behavior. People don't react this way. I've never—"

She swooned to her knees.

The unrelenting sounds of sex now taunted her.

The room began to spin. She tilted her head downward and shut her eyes. Sporadic and random acts of sin played in her mind. It made her delirious. These weren't her normal romantic interludes played out as a sexual fantasy. These hallucinations were deviant performances dramatized as kinky fetishes.

She felt shame. The wickedness of it all made her wet.

The room ceased to tumble when she concentrated on remaining calm. Regaining composure, she stood on wobbling legs. Bracing her shoulder against the wall, she exhaled heavily to blow a ragged clump of damp hair from her eyes.

A sheen of beading perspiration ran like tiny tributaries down her arm and congealed at the elbow. She feverishly shifted her eyes about in reaction to the sweaty-drops falling loudly with a thud upon the carpet. Those maniacal taps vociferously sounded in tandem with each thunderous wet smack forged between two fleshy bodies.

"What the hell's going on?" she whined. "This can't be fucking real. Need answers."

Her gaze shifted to the darkened hall. She felt dazed by that long expanding corridor. After skimming her eyes past the open doorway of her daughter's vacant bedroom on the right, she shuffled a few steps forward.

On the left, the muted sound of fucking drew her eyes to the wooden frame that outlined the closed master bedroom door.

"Harold?" she said with a whimper.

The answer came as soggy slaps produced from a couple experiencing passion.

Those noises were a call from some devilish pied piper. Extending her hand to graze the wall, she shambled onward.

Halting at her daughter's empty room, she extended her right arm and grasped the left side frame. She began analyzing the realism of those sounds. She hadn't yet garnered the truth, but subconsciously she reacted by watering her eyes.

Those familiar moans as produced by the young woman created conflict and confusion.

Martha's was awaking to the truth in stages. It was being expressed by a gradual widening of both eyes. The more they broadened, the waterier they became. Her mouth became crooked and began to quiver. She was at the pinnacle of utter heartbreak.

On the cusp of determining the sinful reverberations weren't produced from the speakers of a television, a rugged hand reached from behind and muffled her startled response.

An accompanying arm wrapped her waist and drew her back into her daughter's bedroom. With a rounding sweep from the stranger's heel, the door shut closed with a tiny click.

***

Watching, Waiting, and Weeping

Paul had been forced to watch the totality of Carol's degradation on a large monitor.

The entire time his hands crimped the sheets and he sobbed.

Without reservation, they'd be no forgiveness from his newlywed wife after this. He had no doubt his marriage was over before it truly began. He envisioned the repercussions and it tormented him.

He'd endured many punishments over the course of the past month, but this tragedy twisted his gut.

The misery began as a gradual accrual of dread and peaked upon hearing his true love beg daddy to put it in her tight little cunt. That was the moment his stomach churned as if it had been pierced with a hot serrated blade.

It was the enthusiasm of her words that cemented the true horror of his complicity. It signified her acceptance as daddy's whore. The impact both shocked and perplexed him. How could a lady so prudish and naïve so easily morph into an incestuous slut within the span of a few hours? How could any woman surrender to such debauchery?

He'd turned his tearful face to the mirror and plead for mercy. The flickering light from the monitor's screen brightened of its own accord. The response had been an overlaid reflection of a female phantasm that mocked him with a ghostly laugh.

Prior to today, he'd thought he knew Hell but was mistaken. His ultimate anguish was forcing these depravities upon his innocent new family. He'd been deceived. In his despair and desperation to end his unrelenting nightmare, he'd unknowingly swapped one for another. He now regretted his bargain with the she-devil. He never believed such abhorrent deeds would ever be collected. That abominable woman gave no reprieve.

No longer given choice, he watched, waited, and silently wept.

It was an hour or so after dusk when the closing thud from a door and the jangle of a hanger marked the time.

His mother-in-law, Martha, was home.

Upon hearing her squeals of self-gratification, his mood altered and every sorrowful thought dissolved.

It was like being bewitched with bizarre compulsions that surged, gathered, and simmered behind a thin wall. That irrational pressure was building. The effect produced an unrepentant need for release that drove impulsive actions. This was his affliction.

Pressing a button on the remote, the room darkened. Only the reverberations from an incestuous coupling sounded from beyond.

Martha stumbled into view at the bedroom door, her shaking body outlined by a dim light. He could tell she was reacting to the sin.

Although muted by a closed door, the clarity of Carol's passionate cries was unmistakable. It was clear that his mother-in-law was rationalizing the truth.

Moments earlier that spectacle would have tugged his heart. At this moment and under the sway of misfortune, he felt devoid of emotion with exception of those defined by his torturous urgency to cum.

It was too soon. He couldn't allow the revelation of that devastating reality to be revealed. It wasn't the time and the shock of knowing would undoubtedly end whatever hold the witch had on her. Without a doubt, his inability to conclude the deal would doom him to a life as some subservient sissy whore used exclusively by the bitch and all her sadistic male friends...and that devilish woman had lots of acquaintances.