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I knew that this petite, 50 year old had had a boob job years and years ago, but the way she dressed, you still had to use your imagination?..until now. I picked up her bra and holy smoly, she was sporting a 34D! I had no fricking clue. Maybe a B?maybe a C cup on some days, but a D?!! All of it came together for me. My mother in law was a short, petite lady, standing at only 5? 3, and on that small frame, I could only imagine those D cups without being hidden under her bra and conservative tops. I closed my eyes, alternating between holding her panties to my nose and wrapping them around my cock, and just imagined this MILF bouncing up and down on my cock. It was a new fantasy and it was doing the trick.I guess I got lost in time as I sat there jacking myself off with her panties because just as I felt the swelling, just when I felt like I needed to remove the little silky things before I shot my load in them, the bathroom door flew open. Yep, mother in law standing there just. She is dedicated, this is not part of the training. As the stream started and her being inexperienced it splashed on the back out the toilet leaving a small yellow puddle there but was otherwise precise. She then took her other hand to guard and shock the last drops out and into the toilet.I turned the water on and stepped in to the shower and she reached in front of me taking the soap and began washing my body. She knew she could not be late herself and took great care to not get her hair wet while running her hands all over my body while making sure water ran and dripped over her own. She knows how to move to keep attention with only her sex, I thought. This was further confirming she was nearing the end of her training and she was there to make sure my pleasure was fulfilled. “Do not get your face wet. I don’t want your punishment to end.” She smiled and gently nodded as she finished washing my feet with my cock resting on her face. I dried off and started to get dressed.
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Dreams so horrible she couldn’t even remember them, despite walking a mile or two this way or that through the neighborhood she grew up in, and in the dead of night no less. She’d been much younger then. It was just a phase, her parents had been assured. The psychiatrist had been mostly right.The motion of the vehicle stopped, and she suddenly felt too afraid to peep. What if it was the same men transporting her who’d hurt her so badly? What if she played dead, and they just ... dropped her off and left her alone? Maybe alone in the woods somewhere, where the only things she would have to worry about were exposure and wild animals. That would be okay. That was better than anything else she could think of. The faint, muted sounds of classic rock met her ears, and it made her feel nothing. Not even when someone picked up the heavy blanket she was wrapped in did she make a sound. She was tense, frozen with fear to the point where she forgot to breathe for several seconds at a time, or.

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