Falling for my Mother-in-law Ch. 01

With my mother-in-law, Sharon, thinking of me an exhibitionistic pervert, if ever she saw me without my clothes, I'd be unable to walk around naked in my own house once she lived with me. Moreover, now, with her moving in, I had to shower and get dressed every morning. I wouldn't be able to hang around my house all day wearing pajama bottoms without underwear and without wearing a robe. I had to show Christine's mother more respect than flashing her something of me that she shouldn't see.

Yet, feeding my sexual fantasies, something that I'm curious to know, and would love to see of my mother-in-law, I wondered what she wore to bed. I'd love to see Sharon in her bra and panties. I'd love to see her topless. I'd love to see her big, naked breasts. I'd love to see her shapely, naked ass. Alas, and again, nothing more than a sexual fantasy when masturbating myself, I'd love to see my wife's mother naked.

Thinking more about it now that she's moving in, something that I never thought about before, I'd love to see her naked pussy. I'd love to know if she's a natural blonde. I'd love to know if she's shaved, trimmed, or bushy. Yet, truly, and strangely enough, as much as I'd be embarrassed is she saw me without my clothes, I'd be embarrassed to see her without her clothes. She's my mother-in-law and not some whore from a club or a bar that I asked to come home with me.

# # #

Again, dreading the daily, personal grooming, something that I hated to do now that I worked from home, with my mother-in-law moving in with me, I needed to force myself to shower, shave, and get dressed every morning. Moreover, for her to feel welcome living with me, I needed to force myself to make conversation with her every day. No longer able to watch the television programs that I wanted to watch and when I wanted to watch them, I'd have to watch television in another room. The last thing that I wanted to do was to babysit Christine's mother.

'God this sucks! This really sucks,' I thought. 'I can't believe my wife invited her mother to live with us.'

Then, thinking the worst, an imagined, scary scenario paralyzed me with dread. What if Sharon lived with us for the rest of her life. While my wife crisscrossed the planet on business trips, I imagined having to hire a home, healthcare worker to wash, diaper, and dress my wife's elderly mother. With many home healthcare workers not reliable and totally undependable, I imagined, sometimes, having to wash, diaper, and dress my mother-in-law while my wife traveled to God knows where.

'Yuck! Fuck. God forbid. This sucks! This really sucks,' I thought! 'Why did my wife invite her mother to live with us without asking me first?'

# # #

Ruining my day and, no doubt, my life, it all started when I received an email from my wife. Our preferred way of communicating and corresponding with one another, we both hated texting. With practically everything now made in China, and with her on the fast track to be the president of her company, she was in Hong Kong setting up, yet, another manufacturing factory for her company.

Fluent in Chinese, it helped that she spoke several languages, Spanish, French, Italian, and German, too. Her company sold top of the line and expensive leather handbags, briefcases, luggage, and other traveling accessories. Before their product line was manufactured overseas, they made everything in the United States. Yet, once the labor unions and high cost of wages decimated our manufacturing base, businesses moved to Mexico, Brazil, Japan, Taiwan, India, Sri Lanka, Viet Nam, and finally to China. Now, nearly everything is made in China.

As if the world was her sales, marketing, and manufacturing territory, Christine had traveled to England, France, Germany, India, Mexico, Brazil, Dubai, China, and Japan, along with a dozen other countries that I'm forgetting to mention. Working on her second passport, with her passports filled with extra pages, they're choked full of colorful stamps. Never offering to take me with her, not wanting to go if she wanted me to tag along, I was comfortable remaining home.

When she wasn't boarding a plane, she was in a foreign country doing logistics, overseeing the construction of factories, maintaining the quality control of the product line, and hiring employees. A one-woman task force, before letting go to leave that country for another, she hired the best help in every country. She paid them well to assist her to successfully do her job. No matter the country she visited, as well as being fluent in their language, she knew their laws, their traditions, and their customs.

"Michael, I'll be here at least a month," she wrote. "Maybe longer if they quarantine me and don't allow me to leave the country. The pandemic is worse here in China. I'm glad that I've had all of my shots, but not taking any chances, I still wear my mask."

Accustomed to her staying in a country longer, and until her job was done, her next email message floored me.

"I'm sorry, Michael," she wrote. "With everything that I had to do before flying to East Asia, leaving in a frenzy of activity, it slipped my mind. I forgot to tell you. Please forgive me for not telling you beforehand and checking with your first. My mother is moving into our house today."

'What,' I thought? I was stunned. I couldn't believe what I was reading. Her mother is moving in our house today?'

I read her email over three times in case I had misread it. Filled with dread, I felt my heart beating out of my chest. As if I was having a heart attack, short of breath, my pulse quickened.

Not believing what I read, I had to reread her email again. I wondered if she was kidding me. Yet, with her not having much of a sense of humor, with all of her emails right to the point and all business, and as if I worked for her, I knew that she was serious. My mother-in-law would be living with me. She'd be occupying my house and living in one of our guest bedrooms.

'Her mother is moving in our house today,' I thought with dread mixed with panic?

I couldn't believe what she wrote. I couldn't believe what I read. I couldn't believe that her mother was moving in our house today.

'Oh, my God. What the fuck? Why?'

# # #

As soon as I read her email, my stomach sank. My mother-in-law was moving in my house to live with me. With her moving in with us not open for discussion, she was moving in today, not next week, not next month, and not when my wife was here to greet her. Today was the day that I'd be giving her a set of keys and the alarm codes to my house.

'Kill me now,' I thought. 'I don't believe this. I'm fucked. I'm doomed.'

I don't want my mother-in-law living with me. I love living alone. I want to live alone. I need my privacy. I need my alone time. I need my space. I don't want to be bothered when I'm working with her mother interrupting me to ask me stupid questions.

Except for not having sex, I enjoyed my solitary alone time when my wife traveled the world and wasn't here. I needed the peace and quiet, along with the undisturbed concentration to do my job. Moreover, I wanted the choice of not having to get washed, shaved, and dressed every day. I wanted the privacy to walk around in my underwear, or to parade around naked if I wanted. Suddenly, wishing that I had never married, I liked not having to cater to the needs of a woman, especially if that woman is my mother-in-law.

Forget about Christine's mother as my houseguest, the last thing that I wanted was Sharon as my live-in housemate. Nevertheless, giving me someone to masturbate over, my sexual downfall, at least she was tall, sexy, shapely, good-looking, and had big tits. A sucker for big, breasted, older women, yet, I imagined all of the housemates that I would have preferred living with me.

With them all older than me and having huge breasts, I thought of Christina Hendricks, Sofia Vergara, Scarlett Johansson, Jenny McCarthy, Nicole Natalie Austin, better known as Coco Austin, Kim Kardashian, or Beyonce. Successful in their own careers, I imagined them not bothering me in the way that my mother-in-law would continually interrupt me. With them all doing their own thing and leaving me alone until it was time for us to have sex, I could live with any of them, no problem.

'Christina, it's your turn to blow me. I need to cum in your mouth while fondling your huge breasts,' I imagined saying. 'Tomorrow, I'll be giving Sofia oral sex. I love licking her pussy while reaching up to feel her big tits. Then, I'm scheduled to fuck Scarlett on Wednesday and have hot sex with Jenny on Thursday. I'll be making love to Coco on Friday, and will allow Kim and Beyonce to have their wicked, sexual way with my naked body over the weekend.'

Alas, nothing more than my sexual fantasies when masturbating myself, none of those women would live with me in the way that my mother-in-law was ready to be a permanent resident in one of our en suite guestrooms. None of those women would have sex with me in the way that I imagined having sex with them. Why did my wife tell her mother that she could live with us without even telling me? Why must I be saddled with my wife's mother?

'God help me,' I thought again while anointing myself with the sign of the cross.

# # #

"I already paid the movers," wrote Christine. "All that you need to do is to tip them. My mom lost her job and her apartment. I'm sorry to spring this on you at the last minute but she has no other place to live. With us having plenty of room, I invited her to stay with us for as long as she needed and wanted. I didn't think it would pose a problem," she wrote.

'What? Seriously? Is she kidding me,' I thought. 'She didn't think that her mother living with me would pose a problem?'

I could give her a laundry list of problems with having her mother moving in with us. First, I don't want to live with her mother. Second, I don't want her mother living with me. I want my privacy. I want to keep a thought in my head without feeling forced to be socially polite and make conversation. I don't want to get washed, shaved, and dressed every day. Finally, if the exhibitionist desire presented itself, I wanted to walk around my house in my underwear or naked.'

Shocked as much as I was devastated, I still couldn't believe it.

As if a recording looping through my head, her mother is moving in today? I couldn't believe that I'll be living with my mother-in-law? Having only met the woman three times, once before the wedding, the second time during the wedding, and the third time after our wedding when we invited her over to see our new home, I hardly know the woman.

Finally remembering her more clearly now, she's a very attractive woman but she's my mother-in-law. She's not my wife. I love my wife. I don't love my mother-in-law. I didn't marry my wife's mother; I married my wife.

# # #

With Christine seldom home and always traveling, I'll be seeing and talking to Sharon more than I'll be seeing and talking to my wife. The last thing that I wanted was a roommate, especially one that I may be sexually attracted to enough to imagine having forbidden sex with her while masturbating myself. The last thing that I wanted was my mother-in-law walking in on me while I masturbated over the thought of imagining her naked and having sex with me.

'As if I'm a testosterone filled, young man, how embarrassing would that be for my mother-in-law to catch me jerking off,' I thought? 'I'd be so embarrassed if she saw my naked, erect prick, and caught me cumming while calling her name.'

I imagined my mother-in-law listening to my masturbation dialogue while standing outside of my bedroom door. I imagined her walking in my bedroom without knocking to deliver my laundry. Unaware that she was in my room watching me, I imagined her watching me masturbate myself and cumming over the thought of imagining her naked and having sex with her.

'Sharon, suck my cock,' I imagined saying. 'Blow me. I need to cum in your beautiful mouth while I fondle your huge breasts and finger your erect nipples,' I typically thought while masturbating over my wife's mother.

# # #

Perfect timing, not expecting her to arrive so soon, with a ring of my doorbell, Sharon arrived ahead of the movers. With me walking around naked, I quickly put on a pair of pajama bottoms without underwear and my Ugg slippers to open the front door to greet her and to walk out to the driveway. More comfortable in my pajamas bottoms than in my jeans, I hated wearing underwear beneath my pajamas. I'd rather hang free.

Besides, this is my house. I'll wear whatever I want to wear. If she doesn't like seeing the big impression that my dangling dick made in my pajama bottoms, too bad. Don't look or go live somewhere else.

She lugged in two suitcases full of her personal possessions from her car, up the driveway, and up the front steps. She had more boxes in her car. I opened my front door and helped in with the suitcases. Then I ran out to the circular driveway to unload her car.

If her vast amount of things was any indication of what it would be like living with Christine's mother, I was glad that I had a big house. With me a minimalist, and with my mother-in-law moving in all of her furniture and personal possessions, I wouldn't be a minimalist anymore. I couldn't imagine a moving truck full of furniture backing into my driveway. I'm just glad that she didn't have a grand piano to move in, too.

Yet, something that I'd love to see, I wouldn't mind if she was moving in a stripper's pole. How hot would that be for my mother-in-law to want me to install a stripper's pole in her bedroom? How hot would that be for my wife's mother to invite me to watch her exercise while pole dancing. I could only imagine watching Sharon slowly and sexily removing her clothes in front of me while dancing around a pole.

'Stop it,' I thought! 'Get your dirty mind out of the gutter. Sharon is not a stripper. No doubt, she's never pole danced in her life. She's your wife's mother. No doubt, a church going woman, she's your modestly, moral mother-in-law. Show some respect,' I thought.

# # #

In case the movers arrived early, she wanted to supervise them moving her precious antiques, grandfather clock, dining room table, rolltop desk, chairs, and an overstuffed couch. Hoping that she still had it and was moving it in my house, the piece of furniture that I had was most interested in was a navy blue, overstuffed, and oversized, Barcalounger recliner. Tempted to buy one, I loved that chair. As comfortable as my Herman Miller Aeron, office chair, I remembered how comfortable that chair was when sitting on that the first time that I met Sharon when asking her permission to marry her daughter.

Remembering her now that I saw her, a widow after her much older husband died of a sudden, heart attack, mother and daughter could have done Ivory Soap commercials in the day. Now that I'm seeing her again, strikingly similar in appearance, even with their 22-year age difference, incredibly, they looked that much alike. They looked more like sisters than they looked like mother and daughter. As if looking into the future, Sharon made me imagine what Christine would look like when she was fifty-two-years-old. Now that I saw my mother-in-law, I wished she had moved in a stripper's pole.

They were both tall, 5'9" tall, blonde, and with big, beautiful, blue eyes. They both had long legs and shapely asses. The only difference in their outside appearances was that Christine had 34 C cup breasts and Sharon had 36 D cup breasts.

'A sucker for big tits, I love big breasted women, especially big, breasted, older women,' I thought while staring at Sharon's big blouse and bra clad breasts.

I knew her breast size because I happened to see her bra hanging in the shower when I visited her apartment with my wife and used her bathroom. Yet, with me quite the breast expert, bulging over her bra in her low-cut top, her breasts looked bigger than a D cup. With some women squeezing their tits in a smaller size bra, if I was to guess, Sharon had double, D cup breasts.

I examined her bra tag and felt her big, bra cups in my horny hand as if I was feeling her breasts through her bra. Something that I couldn't help, for as long as I can remember, I've always been attracted to mature, busty women, until I met and married Christine. Between ten and twenty-years older, all of my girlfriends before Christine were older than me. Ignored by many men for younger women, there was something about beautiful, sexy, and shapely, older woman with big breasts that made my knees weak, my pulse quicken, and my heart skip a beat.

# # #

"Welcome," I said out of breath after lugging in box after box in my house.

I played my role as the respectful son-in-law to make the best of a bad situation. Wanting to make her feel welcomed, I greeted her with opened arms and with a big smile after closing and locking my front door behind her. Suddenly, difficult to breathe after being forced to surrender my freedom and my privacy, feeling a bit claustrophobic, even though I had a huge house, I felt trapped. I felt used by my wife to entertain her mother.

Then, surprising me, something that I wasn't expecting, my mother-in-law to do, she stepped closer to me, gave me a big smile, wrapped her arms around me, and hugged me as if I was her long lost son. The first time hugging me, she wrapped one arm around my shoulders, and her other arm around my waist. Then, stepping closer, she gave me a full, body hug. She hugged me in the way that I hugged my wife after not seeing her in a while. Sharon hugged me as if I was her boyfriend or her husband instead of her son-in-law.

Taken aback, with her pelvis firmly pressed against my pelvis, and her big breasts pressed against my chest, as if we were lovers instead of mother-in-law and son-in-law, she practically humped me. Then, with her seemingly full of sexual surprises, taking my breath away, she gave me another big smile, looked into my eyes with her big, blue, beautiful eyes, and kissed me on the lips. My wife's mother kissed me on the lips. Never expecting her to do that, stunned, I couldn't believe that Sharon kissed me on my lips.

'This is unbelievable,' I thought. 'First she hugged me with a full body hug as if we were long, lost lovers and then she kissed me. Not giving me a peck on the cheek, as if she was a previous girlfriend instead of my wife's mother, she kissed me full on the lips. I couldn't believe that Sharon kissed me.'

Continuing to sexually surprise me, she kissed me longer than what was deemed appropriate when a mother-in-law kissed her son-in-law. As if sending me a message, she kissed me as if she wanted to show me that she was sexually attracted to me. She kissed me in the way that I now wanted to kiss her. Expecting that she would, I was surprised that she didn't part my lips with her tongue and French kiss me.

Now that she hugged me and kissed me, I imagined her hugging me and kissing me good morning, every morning. I imagined her hugging me and kissing me good night, every night. As if she was my mother instead of my mother-in-law, I imagined her tucking me in bed at night.

With me horny and sexually frustrated, I imagined looking forward to her full body hugs and sexually, inappropriate kisses, every day, twice a day. Eventually, while she hugged and kissed me, making my sexual move to sexually seduce Sharon, I imagined touching her and feeling her through her clothes. I imagined touching and feeling my mother-in-law everywhere that a son-in-law should never touch and feel his wife's mother.

I was stunned. I was sexually excited. My mother-in-law not only gave me a full body hug but also, she kissed me. The first time she hugged me and kissed me, I couldn't believe that she hugged me and kissed me. Not having had sex in months, I was tempted to reach my horny hands down, cup her shapely ass through her short skirt, and part her red, full lips with my tongue. I was tempted to buy her a stripper's pole and install it in her bedroom.