Don't Ask Questions

by Bakerman

Copyright© 2010 by Bakerman

Erotica Sex Story: A sexually frustrated married woman seeks release of her tensions on the first available cock and discovers that actions speak louder than words so you don't have to ask questions.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   .

To say I was pissed off would be an understatement, I was as mad as a ... I was a volcano about to explode.

For two weeks my husband had teased me about this upcoming weekend, as it would be a combination of our wedding anniversary and Valentine's Day. In preparation I had even gone out and purchased some new and expensive lingerie only for him to arrive home driving his brothers 4 x 4.

What I thought was going to be a full romantic weekend was to be a weekend of fishing at the cabin owned by my husband and his brother. My brother in law is a jackass who is always trying to get us involved in his get rich quick schemes and his wife is as dim as a blown light bulb. She is just eye candy to woo investors.

At least he stopped and picked up some Thai food and some wine on his way home.

All through the meal he just went on and on about the weekend ahead and nothing he had planned seemed the slightest bit romantic.

I had held off having sex for the past ten days to make sure I was primed for any experience but for all my attempts to look sexy my husband failed to notice anything about my outfit and yammered on and on about fishing, boating, walking and of course cooking the real reason I was coming along was to cook the fish.

Well Mister, let me tell you, something else is cooking and about to get to the boil very soon.

I had let our older daughter stay with friends this weekend and our son, being recently turned 17, was up in his room on his game console as I had agreed that he was old enough to be left alone for a few days. That was of course before I found his stash of porno mags and DVD's so I was pretty sure what he had planned for the weekend.

Oh! ... frustration.

I cleared the table and dumped the dirty dishes in the sink for later. I told my husband I was going for a shower and then I was off to bed. He mumbled something about being up soon, early start in the morning.

I unzipped the dress and stepped out of it swinging it over my shoulder. Now all I was dressed in were my high heels, thigh high stockings and black satin thong as I paraded down the hallway to the bathroom.

Passing my bedroom I tossed the dress onto the bed as I turned into the bathroom. I stripped off and showered without even bothering to close the door.

Looking like I might get some use tonight I slipped into another pair of new panties, blue hi-cut sheer briefs. They came almost to my navel and pulled my pussy in tight, making my legs appear extra long. A lacy triangular panel filled the front, and where the material of the front met the material of the back were gold stars. I'd trimmed my pubes while in the bathroom so a hint of black showed through the blue lace.

What a waste.

My husband went back to inspecting the packing on the 4x4 and finished off the bottle of wine so that by the time he fell into bed he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. He was out colder than the fish he hoped to catch this weekend.

I tossed, turned and nearly rubbed myself raw trying to expel my pent up frustrations until I finally fell asleep but what with seemed like a blink of the eye the alarm was going off and my husband was out of bed as if shot from a cannon.

I contemplated pulling my vibrator from my bedside draw and giving myself a decent banging when my husband called that breakfast was ready. I threw on a wrap and went to the loo before going down for some breakfast.

I took a cup of coffee and wandered out to look at the van, piled with enough gear for a platoon let alone 4 people. As I turned away my husband asked if everything was OK and without looking I told him it appeared to have a lean and then I went inside. so while he spent the next hour balancing out nothing I went upstairs to dress.

I dropped the wrap where I stood and was about to peel off the briefs when a niggling feeling in the back of my head caused me to go to the bathroom. I stood for a moment trying to work out what was wrong with this scene. Like one of those puzzle games where you look at a picture and then in the next frame things have changed and you have to spot the difference.

My eyes roamed the room and I tried to remember what it looked like from only a few minutes ago, BINGO, I spotted the difference; my black thong was gone from the floor where I had left it last night.

Now I know my husband didn't take it because they were on the floor when I used the loo and he had not been back upstairs since then so there was only one culprit.

In my haste I completely forgot that all I was wearing was a pair of blue lacy briefs so standing next to my son's bed, legs spread, hands on hips, breathing deeply I must have been like a vision from a young man's fantasy.

And that fantasy image was on the wall over his bed as a poster of Wonder Woman filled most of the wall, standing as she usually does in the same pose I was now holding my deep breathing caused my boobs to quiver with each breath and the pale skin was pulled taught by the chocolate drop brown nipples that had hardened without me even noticing.

I was waiting for a panicked stammer of denial so I was totally spun out when my own son looked at me and said "Whoa, talk about one hot momma."

Next he flipped back the sheets and there was my thong wrapped around his cock, and what a cock, certainly bigger than his fathers. I told him how expensive the thong was, to be used as just a cum rag. He described them as "erotic fertiliser" because he had never had bigger, firmer, rut rod.

For a split second I visualised myself on that cock but then self control kicked in and I instead put out one hand expecting him to hand me the panties. Just then my husband called from downstairs that he was going to drive over to his brothers and get him to help balancing the load, back in an hour.

With my son patting the bed my common sense decided to ride shotgun with my husband.

I asked my son what he wanted me to do and holding the thong aloft he replied that he wanted to see me make my blue panties as aromatic as the thong, then he held the thong to his face as he took a deep breath.

I propped one foot on his bed and leaning slightly backwards to make the front taut I slid my hand down my belly, over the elastic waist band and scratched my fingernails on the lace panel.

Then I began humping my hand including dipping and raising my hips plus all the usual movie sound effects of simulated sex.

He just lay on his side as I nearly rubbed a hole through the lace until he uttered one word, squeeze. He understood the odd look on my face and raised two fingers to his chest and made a pinching motion.

Ah, all right I got it.

I grabbed a boob in each hand and started squeezing while pinching my choc top nipples until they were hard and standing proudly from my chest.

As soon as my hand left my crotch my son replace it with his own, rubbing and grinding, he was rougher on my pussy than I had been but I liked it and felt river lets of moisture seeping from my vagina as the room took on a musky odour.

Being a young man of few words his next request had me again perplexed for a moment as he said, hand. I extended a hand towards him and he slipped the material of the thong around my wrist and then twisted it till it was tight.

His next command was down and pulling the thong across the bed forced me to lie down on the bed. He then puled my arm up and wrapped the material around a wooden finial on his bed-head. Again he said hand so I raised the other hand an he twisted the material more and then slipped it over my other wrist where it snapped tight so I was secured for his sexual pleasure, and I hoped mine.

 
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