Like Mother Like Daughter? No Way!

I had read about GILFs. They were like MILFs except they were about twenty-five years older. I was about to meet a horny GILF. It all began with a phone call.

It was Marie, my wife's mother. She asked to speak to her daughter. She sounded strange. That was no surprise -- she WAS strange! In fact she was downright weird and since her husband died she was getting worse. I called my wife.

"It's Marie," I said.

Grace took the phone. "Hi Mom. What's up?"

"Uh huh."

"Uh huh."

"That's a damn good price!"

"Uh huh."

"No way can you turn it down. Not in this market."

"Uh huh."

"You gotta sell it. You really do."

"That's okay ... no, it's really okay. Mark won't mind at all. You can use Margie's bedroom. It's been empty since she left for college last month."

"Okay ... Okay ... I'll come over this afternoon and help you pack."

Grace hung up the phone and turned to me with a bright smile. "Mom sold the house. They offered her four-fifty and she's gonna take it. In this market that's a great price."

I got a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"I told Mom she could stay with us for a few months. That's okay with you isn't it?"

My sinking feeling was fully justified. What could I say? I nodded.

My name is Mark Eggers. I'm thirty-seven years old and the senior partner in a successful accounting firm. Grace and I have been happily married for almost nineteen years. My daughter, Margie, just left for college and I was looking forward to some peace and quiet around the house until that phone call changed my plans.

Grace's mother, Marie, was not my favorite person. The "B" word described her best. She was fifty-six and at least twenty-five pounds overweight, but she tried to dress and look thirty-five. She kept her hair long and blonde and she wore tight dresses that emphasized her enormous breasts. She could be a double for Dolly Parton.

To give the devil her due, she did have spectacular legs -- long and slender -- but her ass carried a lot of weight she didn't need, and her belly pooched out a little. But all men's eyes eventually came back to her tits with those unasked questions: What would those babies look like naked? Would they sag? What would it feel like to juggle them in your hands? Or, how would it feel to ... well, you get the idea.

Marie had been a widow for several years and she was not comfortable in that big house. She wanted to get something smaller and different. For over a year she had talked to Grace about getting a condo in one of the big complexes with a pool and exercise facility. She openly admitted that she wanted to meet some men. And I don't think she meant men her age -- I suspect she was looking for something younger.

Over the next couple of weeks Grace went back and forth with Marie moving stuff from the "old house" to our place. There was a lot of crap to move and put in storage and throw away. I tried to help and act friendly and several times Marie even smiled at me -- which was unusual. Once, she sat at the kitchen table having coffee with me and said a nice thank you. She had been a genuine bitch for years, but maybe things would work out after all.

Finally she became a member of our household and everybody developed a new routine. Grace and I didn't change ours much. Marie was up and had breakfast with us -- I always had a big breakfast before leaving for the office about eight. Marie wore a long robe in the mornings that didn't show much skin, but it was obvious she didn't have a bra on. Her big breasts did a lot of jiggling as she moved around. I had a hard time keeping my eyes off of them.

Grace noticed me looking, but said nothing. If Marie noticed me watching her, she didn't give any sign of it. Early on Grace said to me that she wished her Mom would wear a bra under her robe, but I don't think she told her mother that. Grace was concerned that her mother had not met any men she could date. She took her to church and to the club, but with no luck. Marie even tried a singles club.

"God, I feel bad about her," Grace said one night as we got in bed. "She's lonely and she needs a man's company. She's horny as a goat! She fought a lot with Dad but at least they always made up in the bedroom."

"Well," I said, "I don't think she's gonna find a man who will put up with that attitude of hers. Face it Grace -- your Mom is a very bitchy broad. I know you love her, but she's a bitch!"

"Don't say that, honey," Grace replied, "Mom's lonely ... and ... well ... a plastic dildo, even when it vibrates, is no substitute for a hot, fleshy, ahh ... what is it you always call it?"

"A pussy pleaser. I call it a pussy pleaser. It always pleases you."

Grace chuckled and, reaching down under the covers, she grabbed hold of me and started tickling my balls.

"Yeah, that's what you called it. Honey, why don't you please me with it now?"

I pleased her. Our love life had always been good since we got married. Not flashy, but steady and dependable, usually about twice a week.

I play golf Saturday mornings and Thursday afternoons and Grace spends Thursday afternoon with her bridge club. Marie had been with us almost two months and one Thursday it was raining too hard to play golf. So, I was just sitting in my favorite overstuffed chair in the family room, reading.

Marie walks into the room in shorts and tee shirt and I did a classic double take! Even at her age, her legs always looked fabulous in shorts. But what I noticed first was that she did not have on a bra! Those big luscious tits jiggled as she walked across the room.

I have not played around on my wife in all nineteen years of marriage. I wondered, briefly, if fucking her mother counted as "playing around" and quickly figured it might be even worse. But still, I felt my dick starting to get hard. I think that is exactly what Marie intended. She was wearing spike heels with her shorts -- she must have planned this all along!

"No golf today?" Marie stood directly in front of me, hands on her hips, posing to show off those great legs. I could see her nipples standing up erect under that thin tee shirt. I couldn't control my eyes -- I just stared at her tits, speechless, and licked my lips.

Marie stared down at my crotch where my erection was now quite obvious. Then she quickly dropped to her knees in front of me and ran her hand up my thigh and began to caress my hard cock through my pants.

"I think you like my tits," she said. "You stare at them every morning across the breakfast table."

My throat felt tight and my mouth was dry. I didn't know what to say so I just nodded. Marie unzipped my fly and her hands brought my erect cock out. She started to stroke it gently. Then she took it in her mouth and tickled me with her tongue, which felt almost electric.

"We need to get you in bed," Marie said. She stood up and in one rapid motion she slipped her tee shirt off and posed with her hands behind her head and her elbows back to show off her tits. They stood out proudly with almost no sag. I felt my dick go rigid, pointing straight up in the air out of my pants. I sat there staring.

"Want to see some more?" She asked in a husky voice. "Okay, I'll show you."

With that she unbuttoned her shorts and slipped them off along with her bikini panties. Then she posed for me -- naked -- hands behind her head.

God she was beautiful. Yeah she carried a little extra weight on her ass and her stomach pooched out a bit, but none of that mattered when I looked at those proud tits. My eyes moved down to her beaver -- a thick, curly haired, brunet triangle contrasting in a vulgar way with her long blonde hair. Her legs, especially as she posed in heels, would make a teenager envious.

I sat there admiring her body, speechless.

"Let's go to the bedroom," she said in that same husky, sexy voice.

I shook my head no. It was an effort to speak. "I can't ... we can't ... I ... I mean ... "

"Of course you can," she said. "Look at your cock standing up there like a soldier. He knows what to do."

I kept shaking my head no. No way could I do this. My wife's mother! In our house!

"I can't. I ... I just can't."

"I'll do anything you want me to do," Marie said. "You can do anything you want to do to me and I'll take it. I need it. God! How I need it! Please!"

I sat there, my hard cock starting to throb, shaking my head no.

"You always thought I was a bitch. You can treat me like a bitch if you want to."

I just sat there, helpless and kept shaking my head no.

"Slap me around a little if you want to or take a strap to my ass. I'll take it."

Looking back on that moment it was clear that I had never completely understood my own sexuality. I guess all of us have desires that we suppress and I was no exception. When she said "You can treat me like a bitch," and "Take a strap to my ass," I felt a trembling vibration course through my body -- a thrill of excitement, a hunger I had never known. A hunger I had not even known that I had.

For years, as Margie was growing up, Marie had been a bitch of a Mother-in Law. She was almost cartoon bitchy. Again and again she had pissed me off. Many, many times I had wanted to slap her. These moments flashed through my mind as she stood there before me - buck naked and begging to be hurt.

It all happened so fast. I wasn't even thinking when I did it. I just did it. If I had thought about it, I would never have done it. Standing up rapidly, I slapped her across the face hard enough to leave her cheek red.

"Bend over the chair," I told her, as I unbuckled and removed the wide leather belt I was wearing and, folding it double, I gripped it firmly in my right hand. Marie obediently bent over the arm of that overstuffed chair -- her ass in the air. I reached down with my left hand and stroked her naked ass -- gently caressing her smooth creamy white skin, then, taking a full swing I delivered that belt strap with all the force I could muster.

There was a loud "thwaak!" as leather met soft, naked skin, and a moan from Marie but no loud cry and no attempt to escape what she knew was coming. I looked at the bright red welt across her ass that was getting redder each second as I watched. Then, "thwaak!" I delivered a second blow and watched a second red welt join the first.

Marie did not cry out. She just took it in silence.

"Bitch!" I yelled at her. "You bitch! I've wanted to do this for years."

Looking back, even now, I have trouble understanding the powerful sexual feeling that raced through my body, as I stood over her with a rigid, throbbing erection and delivered blow after blow with that leather belt to her naked ass. I do not remember how many it took, but her ass was covered with red stripes, before she finally cried out for me to stop.

Then I rolled her off of the chair and on to the rug, and dropping my pants I got between her legs and started to fuck her savagely. She wrapped her legs around me and began to hump her ass, moaning and begging me to fuck her harder. Her first orgasm came almost immediately and her second just a few minutes later. She had a big pussy but with each orgasm it tightened up and her contractions grabbed my dick like a strong hand. I pounded her till I pumped my load, then rolled off, and lay beside her, panting. She looked at me and smiled.

We both were breathing heavily. After a few minutes she chuckled. "I know what you want to do next. The same thing my husband always wanted to do."

Was she reading my mind? She was right. I did have something that I wanted to do. I had fantasized about it since that first morning I saw her at breakfast without a bra. I even fantasized about it sometimes when I fucked Grace.

"I'll be right back," she said, getting up and walking naked, still in her spike heels, to her room.

She returned with a bottle of scented oil. Then she lay down on the rug on her back and poured the oil between her pendulous breasts. She pulled her tits up together with her hands and looked over at me.

"You want to tit-fuck me, don't you?" She said it in that hoarse, sexy voice. "Well, go right ahead. Fuck 'em. Here they are."

She had read my mind. I pulled off the few remaining clothes I still had on and straddled her body, my newly hard cock in my hand.

"Here, put it right here," she said as I guided my cock into the oily space between her tits. She pressed her tits tightly together and I began to tit-fuck her. It felt just like a tight pussy except I could see the head of my cock each time it plunged up between her tits, almost reaching her chin. This was something I had never experienced before and it felt fantastic.

I looked down at her face in a pool of blonde hair on the floor. I imagined my cum shooting on to her face and up into that hair.

I was fucking her hard and grunting, no words, but I was thinking, "Take it you bitch, take it on your face -- take it in your hair -- take it you bitch!" I was remembering all the times she had made me angry. I wanted to see my cum splattered all over her face.

I pumped harder and harder and finally I felt my balls lift up and then I watched it happen -- just as I had fantasized it would. On her lips, on her cheeks, on her eyelids, in her hair -- I pumped a massive load -- thick, white, creamy strands spurting up on to her face and slowly dripping down, forming a sticky, stringy mess.

I collapsed, panting for air and we rested.

Then we went to her bed and fucked all afternoon. We didn't talk. We just fucked. I made her do most of the work on top of me like a cowboy with those big beautiful tits hanging down and bouncing for me to play with. She was insatiable -- she just couldn't get enough. It turned me on to hear her beg for it.

We showered separately and I headed to the club for a late afternoon drink with the boys. Grace was home from her bridge club when I got back to the house, and we ordered in Chinese. The evening was routine -- at least that was what I hoped it was.

The next night I looked at Marie's tits across the dinner table and remembered how good it felt to rub my dick between them. That night in bed I fucked Grace, but fantasized about tit-fucking her mother. The following Thursday afternoon it didn't rain, but I decided not to play golf. When I got home from work I changed into my jeans and that wide leather belt.

Marie had put on the same tee shirt and shorts she wore the previous week. She had on spike heels again. We didn't talk but both of us knew what was going to happen. I sat in the family room, as before, and Marie walked in -- exaggerating her hip movements in a sexy way. Then slowly, she stripped for me and paraded naked around the room, her tits jiggling. I looked at her ass and saw black and blue stripes from the strapping I had given her the week before. Somehow it turned me on to look at those marks.

I got up from the chair and, slowly, unbuckled my belt. Marie walked to the chair without being told and bent over the arm, exposing her ass for me to whip. I felt my sexual arousal growing stronger and stronger. My body was trembling and eager, but my mind kept protesting. This is wrong! This is not me! I am not like this!

I doubled the belt and stood there. Then I dropped my jeans and stepped out of my shorts and discovered that my cock, hard as a rock, was standing straight out, almost vibrating. I reached down and gently stroked her ass, feeling the blue, slightly lumpy stripes I had put there last week. I lifted my right arm high in the air.

Then, I heard that sound again: "thwaak!" Marie took it without a moan or cry. I didn't count the times I hit her -- it had to be at least a dozen. I just kept on hitting her till she could take it no longer and cried out for me to stop. Then I rolled her off the chair on to the rug and fucked her like a whore, just like the week before. And we rested and, as before, she got the scented oil and made her breasts available for my pleasure. And then, her face and hair covered with my cum, we went to her bed for the afternoon and she rode me till she was exhausted. The only difference was that we ordered in pizza that night instead of Chinese.

And so it went -- week after week. Marie warned me to keep fucking Grace. It was an unnecessary warning. I was fucking Grace more than ever, always fantasizing about using that belt on Marie's ass before I tit-fucked her and pumped a big load of thick cum onto her face and into her hair.

Marie had been living with us for over four months and I had been fucking her regularly every Thursday, when Margie invited her mother to UC Davis for the weekend. Her sorority was having a "Mother's Weekend" and Grace decided to go. She left Friday afternoon and returned Sunday afternoon. Marie and I had two nights and two days of non-stop sex. Her ass got as black and blue as I had ever seen it. I was deep into my "perversion" as I called it in my head and I was enjoying sex with both Marie and with my wife.

A week or so after Grace got back from UC Davis, one night as we went to bed, she kissed me and we lay quietly on our backs, side by side.

"We need to have a talk," she said softly.

I felt a chill. I had the sudden thought that Grace knew about her mother and me. I waited. It was just as I suspected. Grace laid it out for me calmly, speaking softly, almost lovingly.

"When I was little I didn't understand what was happening," Grace said. "But, as I got older I figured it out. I had to do a little reading, but I finally figured it out. Mom was careful not to let me see, but a couple of times I got a look at her butt and saw the black and blue marks. Dad was using a belt on her. They were careful to do it when I was not at home, but I could always tell when it had happened."

"Mom enjoyed it," Grace continued as I listened fascinated. "I don't know why. And so did Dad. It was just a part of their sex life. For them it was normal -- nothing wrong with something, I guess, if both people enjoy it. Is there?"

I didn't answer. Somehow I knew what was coming next.

"Several weeks ago, quite by accident," Grace continued, "I saw Mom's butt -- it was only a brief look. But, there they were -- the same black and blue marks that Dad made with his belt. You and Mom are having sex. Aren't you?"

My mouth felt dry. My body felt numb. I just nodded my head and said, "Yes we are."

Grace went on. "I've been thinking about it for several weeks now. Wondering what to do. You know what happened to our friends from the club, Joan and Billy. They split up because he had an affair -- I think they're both miserable now. Another friend of mine from the bridge club lost her husband the same way. She's miserable too. Men do that sometimes. Women too, I guess. I'm not sure why."

"I love you and I don't want to lose you. But, this thing with Mom simply can't go on. There are some condos available for lease at that complex on Madison Street -- I called them. Tomorrow I want you to take Mom down there and pick one out. Okay? I want her out of here before next Thursday. Okay?"

And that's the way it ended. Sex with Grace never faltered throughout the whole thing, although I think maybe she may have suspected what my fantasies were. Her relationship with her mother did not seem to change at all. The only thing that changed was that Marie and I got along better. Gradually my fantasies returned to "normal" if that is the right word -- I'm really not sure anymore what's normal and what's perverted. I love my wife and I know she loves me. I hope she never does to me what I did to her.