Mother-in-Law's Tongue Ch. 02

Mother-in-Law's Tongue - Andrea's Discovery

It was two years later. Andrea hadn't forgotten the robbery – or the events that she kept quiet from her husband. It remained a secret between her, Ben (her Son-in-Law) and her unknown assailants.

Andrea had just turned fifty, but remained fit and healthy and still looked at least ten years younger than her actual age. Many people assumed that it was genetic, but she had secretly indulged in a few minor alterations with the help of a plastic surgeon and used an element of hair colouring. Her body, however, was entirely natural. She exercised at home during the day while her husband was at work.

She wasn't a woman obsessed with calories or dieting. If she felt she was putting on weight she would simply exercise harder. Her breasts that had sagged a little with age, still remained relatively firm. Occasionally, if she was at home alone and not intending to go out, she was liked to go without a bra. But she never, ever, did so if she was going out. To leave the house she would only ever allow herself to be dressed as the neighbours would expect to see her; smart and wearing a skirt and high heels.

Andrea's husband was a bank manager. Following the robbery, he had decided to start working towards an early retirement and had only two years left to go. Unlike his wife, he hadn't kept his body in great shape and was a little overweight. Sex had never been an important part of his life – he preferred pottering in the garden to a romp in bed.

Although she didn't understand it, Andrea was quite a sexual woman. She enjoyed wearing stockings and suspenders with attractive, matching underwear simply because of the way it felt. She didn't dress or undress in front of James and it never occurred to her that he might enjoy seeing her strip. When they made love she had always kept her nightdress on (and he had kept his pyjamas on as well). By accident they had discovered that if James played with her breasts and nipples first, it made intercourse easier.

Since Andrea's experiences two years earlier the couple had only been intimate half a dozen times. It was enough for James, but Andrea began to feel she needed more. It was as if a light switch had been flicked on following the events with Ben. Oral sex – far from being disgusting – turned out to be thoroughly enjoyable, although she wouldn't dare suggest it to James. What on earth would he think of her?

She had never masturbated before that time, considering it to be dirty. But during the attack she was caused to orgasm (for only the second time in her life). Her very first climax had occurred by accident one day when leaning against the washing machine daydreaming. It went into a spin cycle and before she knew it, unbelievable sensations were coursing through her lower body. When she suddenly came it frightened her. Many times afterwards she wondered about trying it again, but decided against such a perverted indulgence. Andrea now realised that massaging her pussy and rubbing her clitoris was actually enjoyable, even though she thought it was probably wrong.

Since her ordeal Andrea had often thought about what had happened and sometimes, in her reverie had found herself squeezing her breasts and playing with her nipples. Occasionally, she would realise that she was in danger of becoming aroused and would stop immediately, then desperately try to find something to keep herself occupied.

But on other occasions, such as when she was luxuriating in a deep bath she had allowed herself to continue the gentle caresses. One of her hands would move down her body, hovering near her smoothly shaven pussy. She kept it that way because she liked the feel of silk underwear on her smooth skin. Inevitably, when her hand got this close, her fingers would stretch the extra half an inch and make tentative contact with her clitoris.

That was usually the trigger from which there was no turning back. Her legs would spread as wide as the bath would allow and her knees would come up until her heels were almost touching her ass cheeks. In this position she was able to rub her clit while her pussy lips began to open of their own accord. The warm bath water would start to fill her vagina. The sensation usually made her groan with pleasure. She would then use two or three fingers to begin finger fucking her pussy. Orgasm came, usually, within a few minutes.

Lack of adequate satisfaction in the bedroom caused her to become incredibly ill-tempered. Andrea needed to orgasm at least twice a week to keep this grouchiness at bay.

Chapter 1

James had to go away to a conference. He left on Monday and wasn't due to return until Friday. Andrea drove him to the station and then returned home, where she was going to be alone for the week.

Her day began and continued normally. She got on with the usual jobs around the house that kept her busy. Until 5pm, it was basically a routine day. It was only after her husband would normally have returned home that she noticed anything different.

Having cooked, eaten and washed up, Andrea sat down to watch the television. There was very little programming of any interest and the evening dragged on. Finally, after the watershed at 9pm a film called The Secretary began. She didn't think that she would be interested, but continued to watch and became fascinated. When the main character locked herself in a toilet cubicle, pulled her skirt up and shoved her hand down inside her tights and pants, Andrea's mouth went very dry. As the actress simulated masturbation Andrea found her hands gripping her skirt, unconsciously pulling the hem up to reveal her stocking tops and panties.

The urge to touch herself was incredible, yet still a part of her mind was telling her that to do so while sitting here in the lounge was wrong. She forced her hands to release the material and smooth it back down over her legs.

The film finished and Andrea made her way unsteadily to bed. Completely out of character, she stripped naked and threw her clothes into the corner. Normally, she would carefully hang things up or put them into the washing basket. She donned her nightdress and climbed into bed. With the light out, she lay trying not to recall the scenes from the film, but it became impossible. Her hand slipped between her legs and she realised for the first time just how wet she was – wet enough that she immediately knew that she would have to change the sheets in the morning.

Andrea masturbated furiously. Her left hand had pulled her nightdress up and was pinching and pulling at her nipples. Suddenly, the memory of two years ago leapt into her mind unbidden. She recalled having her nipples sucked by one of the masked intruders, of becoming aroused against her wishes. She remembered her legs being parted and her skirt pushed up to reveal her soaking wet panties. The recollection of her Son-in-Law's face then being pushed down there and rubbed against her private place pushed Andrea over the edge and she came, very, very loudly.

She was shocked that she had used such a memory to excite herself during masturbation. Bathed in sweat, she made her way to the bathroom in order to have a shower. As her hands spread the soapy lotion across her breasts they came into contact with the still hard nubs of her nipples. When her hands moved further down her body and strayed between her legs she spoke out loud, "Oh no! Not again!"

Masturbating to orgasm twice in the space of only fifteen minutes? Andrea felt like a cheap slut. She was shocked by her actions, but more so that she was finding the memory of her abuse and rape to be erotic.

The next day Andrea decided that she would pay a visit to her daughter who lived sixty miles away. She would normally be at work, but when she rang Megan she discovered that she was taking a half day in order to take delivery of a new fridge in the afternoon. So Andrea drove her husband's car down and stayed with her for part of the day.

Having had an evening meal with Megan and Ben, Andrea decided it was time to go home. The couple told her that she was welcome to stay the night, but she politely turned them down. She and Ben had never spoken about the events of two years ago, but she found it very difficult to suppress the feelings she had when around him. And it was very clear that Ben himself had a very strong attraction to her. She considered it best not to tempt fate.

The car, being a fairly standard Ford Mondeo, had always been fairly reliable, so when Andrea began to smell something she was a little concerned. A glance at the dashboard showed her that the needle on the engine temperature gauge was rising rapidly. She knew that she couldn't continue driving once the indicator reached the red line, so she pulled over into a lay-by and switched off.

Taking her mobile phone from her handbag, she scanned through until she found the number of the emergency service that she and her husband were signed up to. The call was answered within two rings. She gave her details and card number and explained roughly where she was and what the problem had been. She sat back and waited.

Twenty-five minutes later a vehicle pulled up behind her. Andrea stepped out of the car and waited patiently for the mechanic to get out. He seemed to be taking his time. She couldn't see through the windscreen of the vehicle, but it was almost as if he was just sitting there staring at her. Finally, he opened the door and slowly climbed out. He looked noticeably pale as he walked towards her. She wondered if he was unwell.

"Evening, Mrs..." He looked down at his clipboard. "Mrs. Thompson," he finished. "What... um... seems to be the problem?" he stammered.

"There was a smell and then the temperature shot up," Andrea replied simply.

"OK. I'd better have a look then. Are the keys in her?"

"Yes," she said.

The mechanic pulled a plastic cover out of his pocket and spread it on the driver's seat. He then walked round to the front of the car, popped the bonnet catch and opened it. He fired up the engine and then stuck his head back under the bonnet.

Meanwhile, Andrea was puzzling over something. The mechanic's voice seemed very familiar, but she simply couldn't place the face. She eventually decided that she was probably imagining it and that he simply reminded her of someone.

A few trips backwards and forwards and the mechanic switched off the engine. "Hmm, just as I thought," he said. "Looks like your thermostat has packed up. The good news is that I know we've got one of these back at the garage and we could fit it pretty quick for you. I know it's a bit late, but it would save you the effort of being towed all the way home and then having to organise your local garage to do it. That's assuming that they can fit you in any time soon!"

It seemed to make sense to Andrea. It was only 9pm and if he was right she would be back on the road in less than thirty minutes. "Yes, OK then. That sounds a sensible idea. I need the car while my husband is away."

The mechanic escorted her to his vehicle and helped her up into the cab. She was aware that she was showing a bit more leg than she liked to, but he didn't seem to notice, so she thought nothing of it.

In fact, the mechanic did notice. Having raised one leg up onto the high step, her skirt slipped up her leading leg, but her trailing leg was left exposed up to and beyond the top of her stocking. Not only could he see a long, slender nylon clad, high heeled leg, but also the creamy flesh of her thigh. Then, as she swung her leg onto the seat, the skirt parted and he got a glimpse of the white lacy knickers she was wearing.

The mechanic returned to the car and closed the bonnet. He then climbed back into the cab, drove the vehicle round in front of Andrea's car and reversed it into position for the tow. He picked up the radio and called in a report to the garage and to warn them he was on the way. Five minutes later he returned having secured the car. She didn't notice him make a hurried call on his mobile phone while she sat waiting.

The garage was only a few minutes drive away and they soon arrived. She had expected it to be closed, but as they pulled up she could see the large folding doors were open and there were lights inside.

The mechanic walked round and opened her door to help her out. It was a long drop for a woman wearing high heels and she hesitated at the first step. The mechanic checked that his hands were clean and then reached up and clasped Andrea by the waist. He lifted her down easily, as if she weighed nothing. As he lowered her, the air passing up past her legs raised her skirt. Once again she felt she was revealing more of her legs than she wanted. The mechanic saw even more than he did before.

"We've got a waiting room where you can have a cup of coffee while we get your car sorted out." He escorted her inside the building. Two more mechanics were standing talking by another vehicle and turned to watch her walk past. "Evening," one of them said. She answered with a smile and a nod.

"One of my brothers will get you a coffee. My name's Terry, by the way. That's Bob and Roy," he indicated the other two men.

Terry returned to Andrea's vehicle, unhitched it and drove it into one of the bays. Bob walked into the waiting area and said, "Hi. Can I get you a coffee love?"

"Oh. Well, I don't want to be any trouble, but yes please," she answered.

"Milk and sugar?"

"Neither thanks."

"Sweet enough already eh?"

Andrea was annoyed with his familiarity, but smiled politely.

Having served her drink (in a mug, not even a teacup!), Bob returned to talking with Roy. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but the younger brother appeared to be quite agitated. After a few minutes conversation he seemed to calm down.

Returning to the waiting area Bob called across to his brother, "Come on Terry. What are you playing at?"

"Thirty seconds," he replied simply.

Andrea froze. The voices, those exact phrases flew back to the forefront of her mind. Now she knew why Terry seemed familiar. These were the three men who had robbed the bank and raped her!

Bob saw the look on her face and immediately knew they were in trouble. Andrea stood up, spilling her coffee. "You!" she shouted. "It was you! You... you bastards! I'm going to call the police."

Andrea's outrage overrode the common sense that would tell her that she was in very serious situation. Before she could reach into her handbag for her mobile phone Bob had snatched it out of her hand. She came to her senses very quickly, "Try anything and I'll scream blue, bloody murder."

The two younger brothers had now entered the room. Bob tried a desperate tack. "Look, Just calm down a bit Mrs. Thompson. Let me explain."

"Explain? How can you explain rape?" she demanded.

"The robbery," he explained. "We were desperate. Our Dad started this business – Reynolds and Sons – a long time ago. He added the 'sons' bit after we were born. He died three years ago and we just carried on. The trouble is that he taught us about mechanics but not finance. One of our customers took us for a ride. They kept delaying paying us and the outstanding bill mounted up. I finally made a call to ask what was going on and found that they'd gone bust.

"We were in trouble. We weren't going to get back what we were owed, but to be able to continue trading we needed some working capital to pay our suppliers. We had none. Like I said, we were desperate. Then we had this idea; the bank was the one that pulled the plug on our customer, so maybe they should be the ones to finance us? Except that they knew the situation – and it turned out that they had even advised their client to delay payments to suppliers to try resolve their problems. The bank turned us down.

"We were about to go bust. The income from the garage was the only thing keeping our Mum going. Dad didn't have a pension or life assurance. So we decided to persuade the bank to part with their money. We watched the manager for a few weeks and realised that he was a creature of habit. We knew that he had the keys to the cash machine and usually loaded the money into it himself. More importantly, it was usually used notes.

"You were at home on your own, so all we had to do was take you hostage and make a call to your husband. It all went like clockwork. We got enough money to sort us out and keep the business going. Look, we're in a position now which means we can repay every penny that we took."

Andrea glared in stony silence. Bob waited for her to say something, but clearly the robbery or its reasons weren't of the slightest interest to her.

Bob nodded, "OK, I know, I know. But we were all incredibly nervous and keyed up. Drinking neat whisky didn't help at all. It made us feel brave, invincible, but we lost control a bit."

"You lost control a bit!" hissed Andrea. "You forced me to do things - disgusting things – that I had never done before. And to my Son-in-Law too! Have you any idea how embarrassed I feel whenever I see him?" she shouted.

"I know it doesn't help; but we are sorry about that."

Andrea's head was buzzing. She was so angry that she was losing the ability to think rationally. "Ben has seen me naked. Not even my husband can say that! You made me so desperate that I fucked him." Her mouth dropped open when she realised what she had said.

"But you only blew him," said Bob with a curious look on his face. Andrea remained silent, unable to construct a verbal response.

"It happened after we left, didn't' it?" asked Terry. "It was after I tied the two of you up together, wasn't it?"

Andrea opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, but still couldn't speak. Bob turned to his brother and raised an eyebrow, indicating he wanted an explanation.

Terry grinned sheepishly and told him, "Well, you told me to tie them up properly. It was a bit of a joke really. I tied them to each other, face to face with her legs and arms wrapped around him and him on top. I pulled his trousers and pants down. I guess that nature just took its course." He sniggered when he had finished speaking.

Bob turned back to Andrea. A spark had given him an idea of how they could get out of this. "You fucked him? You fucked your own Son-in-Law? And without anybody forcing you to do it?"

"It... well, we... I mean, I..." Her voice trailed off into silence.

"You dirty little slut. Not content with fucking the three of us, you had to have a fourth cock up you? And you have the gall to stand there and bemoan what we did to you, when all along it was what you wanted?"

"No. I didn't. You... you made me do it," she pleaded.

"Well, all I can say is; when we finish giving our evidence in the dock your reputation is going to be up the creek. People are going to point you out in the street and say 'There goes the whore who slept with the men who robbed her husband's bank. She was probably in on it all of the time. And as for what she did to her Son-in-Law...'" He left the last question hanging in the air.

Andrea took a deep breath and regained her self control. She recognised the impossible position she was in, but decided to try bravado. "So, you expect me to just drive away from here and say nothing? It would be your word against mine and people simply wouldn't believe you."

"If we allow you to drive away from here, we have no guarantee that you won't say anything, so we can't let you go under those circumstances, can we?"

The menace in his voice began to scare Andrea. "What... what are you going to do with me?"

"We need to make sure that you will never talk to anyone. Either we silence you for good, or we make sure that you will never want to tell anyone about us – ever."

Andrea's composure began to crumble with the fear that Bob's words struck into her. Either they were going to kill her, or... or what? Sudden realisation dawned on her of what he had in mind. "What... what do you intend to do?"