His Weekend Conquest (L)

The rain hammered against the windows of the guest house, a relentless rhythm mirroring the insistent thrum of desire building within me. Just a month ago, my husband, Timothy, and our daughter, Kristen, along with her husband, Jack, had arrived for a weekend visit. It was the first time we’d all been together like this, and the air crackled with a nervous energy, a potent mix of familial affection and something far more primal. Kristen had confessed to me, a little awkwardly, that she and Jack weren't as sexually active as she’d like, and her hesitation to broach the subject with Jack was weighing heavily on her.

“So when you are and Jack going to give me some grandbabies?” I’d asked, a playful smirk tugging at my lips.

She’d laughed, a nervous giggle, and responded, "Mom, we’ll get there." But her eyes had lingered on me, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. It was clear she wasn’t just talking about babies; she was hinting at a desire, a longing that extended beyond the purely reproductive.

As we browsed the shops at the mall, a shared bag of greasy food court fries between us, the conversation inevitably turned to our intimate life. "Well, you better get busy," I'd replied, my voice laced with a touch of challenge. "I’m not patient." It was a direct expression of the simmering heat I felt, a need for connection that went far beyond polite conversation.

Kristen’s face had flushed, and she’d taken a step back, her eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and a strange, thrilling excitement. “Are you okay, hon?” I’d asked, my hand instinctively reaching out to gently touch her arm.

“Mom, I need to ask you something kinda awkward.” The words tumbled out, laced with vulnerability and a desperate plea for guidance.

“What’s going on?”

“Ummm, how often do you and Daddy…. uh, have sex?” The question hung in the air, thick with unspoken desire.

I paused, taking a deep breath before responding, carefully choosing my words. "Well, first of all, it’s perfectly fine for you to ask me this. I’m glad you did." There was a strange comfort in her honesty, a relief in sharing this intimate part of my life.

“Your father and I usually have sex several times a week. It’s been that way for most of our marriage. Why? What’s going on with you and Jack?”

Kristen’s voice was barely a whisper. “Well, we have sex, but it’s just… we don’t have as much as I wish we did. And I don’t know how to tell him because I don’t want him to view me in a bad way.” The raw emotion in her words resonated with me; I understood the fear of jeopardizing her relationship with Jack.

“Baby, I promise you, Jack is not going to think you’re a whore for wanting to have sex with him. Every guy ever would be over the moon that their spouse wanted more sex with him. On the other hand, youare his whore. You can be wildly sexual with your husband alone. You both get to have sex with each other—it’s not something to be ashamed of.” The words were a liberating truth, a gentle reminder of the power and pleasure we held within our own hands.

We decided to treat ourselves to some retail therapy, hitting up Victoria’s Secret. I picked out a sleek, black thong, while Kristen opted for a couple of cheeky teddy bears. The thrill of the purchase, the anticipation of the evening ahead, was palpable.

Back in the car, I couldn’t resist continuing the conversation. “Did you have any more “awkward” questions?” I asked, my voice playful.

“Um, yeah. Do you do oral?” The question hung in the air, both innocent and provocative.

“Of course I do. I love giving oral. It makes your dad happy and that makes me happy.” There was a genuine pleasure in fulfilling my husband’s needs, a connection that went beyond mere physical intimacy.

“I’ve done it a couple of times, but not all the time. I’m not fully a fan of it.” Kristen confessed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“That’s fine. I think it’s something you’ll learn to love, with experience. I will say that Jack does seem to love your ass.” A knowing smile played on my lips. Kristen’s pride in her body was infectious, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration for her confidence.

She looked at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Hey, I catch his eyes tracking when you walk by. And why shouldn’t I feel a little proud? I helped create it.”

“Mom, my butt ain’t like yours,” she said, a touch of self-deprecation in her voice.

“Well, your father would definitely agree,” I replied, letting out a shared laugh. “I know! I’ve heard what he thinks about yours.”

“What? When?” Kristen asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Mom, I’ve heard y’all have sex all my life.” The revelation hung in the air, a testament to our passionate connection.

“Really?!” I exclaimed, a blush creeping up my neck.

“Yeah! Y’all get pretty loud.” I couldn't help but chuckle, recalling the countless nights filled with passionate encounters.

“I’ll be honest: in my teens, I’d get a little wet sometimes listening to y’all. Made me imagine what the future would be like with my husband.” Kristen’s words were a poignant reminder of the power of desire, the way it could shape our fantasies and fuel our dreams.

We continued our conversation until we arrived back at the guest house. As the darkness deepened, we all decided to call it a night. Timothy and I retreated to our bedroom, while Jack and Kristen went to theirs.

In our room, Timothy stripped down into his boxers, got in bed, and turned on the television. I followed suit, shedding my clothes and joining him in the covers. We talked about our day, our thoughts, our feelings, the air thick with unspoken desires.

“Kristen asked me about our sex life,” Timothy said, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Really?” My husband’s voice was laced with curiosity.

“Yep. Apparently, she and Jack haven’t been having as much as she wants, and she is timid to ask him about it. So I gave her some advice.”

“And what advice was that?”

“Oh, nothing too special,” I said, my hand sliding down his chest, gently stroking his skin. A few minutes later, I ducked under the covers to give my husband some good head until he called my name.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

“You hear that?”

We both fell silent, listening intently. Over the drone of the television, we heard muffled voices, snippets of conversation. “Oh, fuck yeah, baby,” one voice exclaimed, followed by, “Oh god, you’re so big!” It was clear that my advice had been well-received.

But I wasn’t about to let it distract me from my mission. I turned around, my body moving with a primal instinct, and pulled my husband close. His muscles tensed beneath my touch, and a shiver ran down my spine. He quickly removed my panties and started to devour me, his hands relentless, his touch demanding.

As he reached the point of no return, I clung to him, moaning with pleasure, pulling him closer. His cum streamed down my body, a torrent of raw desire, and I savored every moment, every sensation. We rolled around in each other's arms, lost in the heat of the moment, until we both reached climax, our bodies exhausted but satisfied.

After a moment of silence, I turned around and mounted my husband in cowgirl position, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He slammed his hips against mine, a powerful, insistent rhythm that drove me wild. I swayed back and forth, enjoying the sensation of his muscles flexing beneath my touch, the heat of his body radiating against mine.

"Get on top, cowgirl. I want you to ride this," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

“I’d love to, big boy,” I replied, arching my back, deepening the thrust.

He smacked my ass, sending shivers of pleasure through my body. "Oh, babe, I’m about to cum."

I quickly dismounted and turned to face him, sucking on his huge cock, desperately trying to delay the inevitable. He obliged, his movements becoming more frantic, more intense, until finally, he exploded, his cum coating my mouth, a sweet, salty nectar of pleasure. Then, we cuddled and fell asleep in each other’s arms, the rain continuing its relentless beat against the windows, a comforting soundtrack to our passionate night. The shared experience, the unspoken desires, had forged a new connection between us, a bond that would undoubtedly last long after the weekend was over. The memory of our night, filled with lust, desire, and explicit pleasure, would forever linger in our hearts, a testament to the power of intimacy and the joy of shared passion.

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