In Praise of Older Women
I have become a firm believer that the world would be a better place if more men had an intimate relationship with their mother-in-law. Here’s why …
Like most men, when I got married I gave my mother-in-law not much more than a passing glance – a necessary acquisition on the way to setting up life with the woman I most wanted to be with. I loved my wife, and I love her still, but I think things might not have been so straightforward without the influence of my mother-in-law.
To say that, on my wedding day, I gave my MIL no more than a glance is not quite true. She was just 50 at the time and, dressed in her smart grey suit with full pleated knee-length skirt, I would lie if I said she didn’t catch my attention.
In her high heels, her calves were displayed at their best, all the way up to the hem of her skirt. I have never been able to ignore a woman in a full pleated skirt. Some men think of white as “virginal” – I think of pleated skirts.
The cut of her suit showed off her narrow waist, then amplified the line of her bust. Like the cherry on an iced cake, the smart little hat she wore set the rest of her ensemble off perfectly. She really was as pretty as a picture – at least, any picture that I’d care to spend time looking at.
Yes, from the recall of detail, I’ll have to admit that I got a bit of a woody every time I looked at her. I’ll even admit to a few moments of thinking that an evening spent between her legs, filling her love tunnel with my seed, might just be worth a thought. But, of course, it was my wedding day, so I had other thoughts on my mind as well.
Fifteen years on and I’ve had a good life with my wife. We have two lovely children. Everything’s wonderful – right? It’s a funny thing about life – when you’ve got everything you ever wanted, suddenly there’s more. So, like many men, I strayed a little. I say “a little” because most of it was flirting and the height of it was “petting”. What kept it manageable was the relationship I developed with my MIL.
I won’t go into the details of how it happened. The important thing is that it DID happen. When my MIL was in her mid-60s, we became lovers. We each had our own different needs that we were looking to fulfil – and we found that fulfilment in each other’s arms. More particularly, we found fulfilment when my cock was as deep inside her cunt as it was possible to be and, as she convulsed in her orgasm, I would cum and cum inside her.
So, where is all this going? My point is that my relationship with my MIL stabilised my “wander lust”. She became the standard by which I judged other women outside my marital circumstances. And the simple truth is that she set a very high standard. I don’t doubt that a lot of it was the taboo of sex with my mother-in-law. Well, why not? Nine tenths of the best sex is in the mind anyway.
No other woman came seriously close to making me have to stop for a wank every time I thought about her. No other woman set my pulse racing in quite the same way, simply because I was in the same room as her. No other woman could almost make me cum just with a kiss on the lips.
I found all my aggressive instincts could be tempered by my over-riding desire for her as we embraced – even in the most innocent circumstances. I found myself calm and reasonable with other people after she and I had made love. I found myself think “it’s a wonderful world” whenever we had spent time touching intimately.
So, here’s my message to governments around the world – get over to that United Nations and pass a law IMMEDIATELY that REQUIRES all men and their mothers-in-law to fuck like rabbits! It’s a virtual guarantee for world peace!
One last thing. The other thought that nagged me on my wedding day was what my mother-in-law was wearing under her suit. It wasn’t until she was in her mid-80s, when I had my head between her thighs, imbibing the nectar that resulted from licking her swollen clitoris, that she told me. Everything, except her stockings (of course), was white – bra and full slip (both with much lace trim), girdle (from waist and over hips, with metal fasteners on the six suspenders) and full briefs (with a small bow below the navel and lace floral motif down each side).
Sometimes things happen that make you re-assess decision taken earlier in your life. As my mother-in-law described what she had been wearing on my wedding day, I wondered why it had taken me fifteen years to become her lover. Equally, I knew for sure why, another twenty years beyond that, I continued to find the taste of her sex like the sweetest peach or the finest of vintage wine.
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