I fucked my mother-in-law in the forest while my wife was picking berries nearby.

That trip to the forest to pick berries hung over me from the very beginning, like a heavy premonition. Summer, heat, mosquitoes, and company: me, my wife Katya, her mother Irina Vitalyevna, and my brother-in-law, her younger brother Andrei. My mother-in-law always treated me... peculiarly. Not hostile, no. Too intently. Her dark eyes seemed to probe me, and her smile was always slightly ambiguous. At forty-five, she looked her best, but in a good way: a curvy figure that she didn't particularly hide, thick chestnut hair pulled back into a casual bun, and that way of dressing—summer dresses a little too tight, a little too short. We arrived at the edge of the forest and parked the car. The air smelled of pine needles, rotting leaves, and freedom. Katya, my sweet, naive Katya, immediately became captivated by blueberry picking. She'd always loved it. "Pash, let's split up, it's faster!" she suggested, handing us each a plastic container. "I'll go over there, behind those pines; they say there's a whole clearing there. Andryusha, you and Mom go along the path. And you, Pash, can go with them, or you can go separately." “I’ll go separately,” I said quickly, without looking at my mother-in-law. Irina Vitalievna only smiled with the corner of her lips. — As you wish, son-in-law. Just don't get lost. Her voice was low, a little hoarse, from frequent smoking. It always had a strange effect on me—it sent shivers down my spine. For the first half hour, I wandered alone, mechanically picking berries and throwing them into a container. My thoughts were jumbled. Work, the mortgage, the slight coolness that had recently appeared in my relationship with Katya... And that omnipresent image of my mother-in-law. The way she leaned over the car, adjusting her sandal, and I couldn't help but notice the low neckline of her dress, the shadow between her breasts. Suddenly, her voice came from behind the bushes, quiet but clear: - Pavel? Are you here? I turned around. She was standing a couple of meters away, her face slightly flushed, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. Her dress was clinging to the damp skin between her breasts. — Yes... Irina Vitalievna. Did something happen? "I think I twisted my ankle. Not bad, but I could use a sit-down. Can you help me get to that big stump?" She pointed deeper into the thicket, away from the path. A premonition formed a knot in the pit of my stomach. But I couldn't refuse. - Certainly. I approached her, and she leaned on my arm. Her fingers were cool and clinging. We walked slowly between the trees. She smelled of perfume, a heavy, sweetish scent, and sweat. "You know, Pasha," she said, almost in a whisper, "I always thought Katya was very lucky. Men like you are hard to find these days." “You’re flattering,” I muttered, looking at my feet. "I'm not flattering. I'm just stating a fact. I see how you look at her. And how she looks at you. Although..." she paused, "less often lately. You're probably getting tired." We reached a large, mossy stump. She sat down, exhaled with relief, and her dress rode up above her knees. Her legs were plump but firm, with smooth skin. "Thank you, son-in-law. Sit down and rest. Katya's gone far away, out of sight and out of hearing. Andrey's gone missing too." I crouched down next to her, unsure of what to say. The silence of the forest was ringing. Only birds and the buzz of insects. "It's hot," she said, unbuttoning the top button of her dress. Then the second. The neckline fell open, revealing the lace edge of her bra and the deep cleavage between her breasts. I looked away, but it was too late. She noticed. "Do you like watching?" Her question was straightforward, without equivocation. I felt the blood rush to my face and... lower. My pants felt tight. - Irina Vitalievna, this is... "No need," she interrupted, her voice firm and commanding. "Let's drop the 'Irina Vitalievna' thing. It's just you and me here. And we both know you've been staring at me for the last two years. And I've been staring at you. So let's not pretend." She stood up, no longer limping, and took a step towards me. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. The thought of Katya, who could be a hundred meters away, burned with shame, but that only added fuel to the fire. Adrenaline mingled with a vulgar, animalistic excitement. “This is madness,” I squeezed out. "Exactly," she smiled, and there was something predatory in that smile. "Fast, hot madness. While there's still a chance. Or are you afraid?" Her challenge worked. I wasn't afraid. I wanted her. I wanted her, this mature, self-assured woman, my wife's mother. I wanted her in defiance of all laws and propriety. “Where?” I asked hoarsely. She took my hand and pulled me along, into the thick of the bushes, toward an old, spreading spruce. The trunk was wide, hiding me from view. It smelled of damp earth and pine needles. "Here," she whispered, turning around and pressing her back against the tree. Her eyes were shining. "Quickly, Pasha. While no one sees or hears." In one movement, she lifted the hem of her dress all the way to her stomach. There was nothing underneath. Just bare, firm flesh, slightly rounded with age, and thick, dark, well-groomed growth between her legs. I gasped. "Yes, I don't like unnecessary interruptions," she chuckled, seeing my expression. "Especially when I'm hoping for an adventure." My cock, already hard, twitched in my pants, demanding release. My hands trembled as I unzipped my fly and pulled it free. It was hard, engorged, with a glistening droplet on the tip. "Oh, how..." she breathed out, looking greedily. "Come on, don't keep me in suspense." She turned around, bent over, and braced her hands against the rough bark of the tree. Her back arched, revealing full, tempting buttocks and the wet, slightly open slit between them. The sight was so obscene and arousing that her vision darkened. I came up close from behind. With one hand I grabbed her hip, with the other I guided my cock toward its target. I ran the head of it down her slit, feeling how wet, hot, and ready she was. She shuddered and hissed, - Come on, bitch, put it in already! Her rudeness hit my brain like a drug. I dug in and, with one sharp, powerful thrust, entered her all the way to the base. She cried out in pleasure and immediately pressed her face into her hand to muffle the sound. She was incredibly tight and scorching hot inside. I froze for a second, savoring the sensation of the thick, wet flesh enveloping my shaft. “Oh, fuck…” I blurted out. "Move it, son-in-law," she whispered breathlessly. "Fuck your mother-in-law like a whore." I began to move. Slowly at first, thrusting in and out almost completely, feeling her insides cling to me, wetting themselves even more. Then the rhythm quickened. I held her hips, digging my fingers into her soft flesh, and drove my cock into her harder and harder, deeper. Each thrust made her body shudder and the wood creak. The sounds were disgustingly delicious: the squelching sound of our bodies connected, her muffled moans, my heavy breathing. I watched as red marks appeared on her buttocks from my blows, as her slit stretched around my base, glistening wetly. "Yes, that's it, fuck her harder!" She could hardly contain herself any more, her voice breaking into a shrill whisper. I knew Katya was somewhere close. The thought drove me crazy. I imagined her bending over to pick berries, her innocent eyes, and at that very moment, I was fucking her mother in the forest like the worst slut. It gave my movements a fury, an animalistic strength. One hand slipped from her hip and slid between her legs from the front. I felt the swollen, hard nub of her clitoris and began to rub it in time with my thrusts. "Ah-ah-ah!" She bit her lip until it bled, her body shaking in convulsions. "I... I'm going to..." Her inner muscles squeezed my cock with a convulsive pulsation. She came, screaming silently, her juices gushing over my hand and shaft, making the slide even wetter and louder. The sight of her orgasm, the feeling of the pulsation inside her—it was enough to break me too. I pulled out and, grabbing her by the shoulder, turned her towards me. A stream of hot sperm splashed onto her stomach, onto the dark hair of her pubis, onto the inside of her thigh. I came long and hard, with a hoarse groan, soiling her, my mother-in-law, marking her like territory. We stood, breathing heavily, leaning against a tree. The forest around us continued to live its own life: leaves rustled, birds sang. Somewhere in the distance, Katya's voice was heard: - Da-a-a-a! Mom! Come here, I found so much here! We silently and quickly tidied ourselves up. She wiped her stomach with a handkerchief and pulled on her dress. I zipped up my pants, trying not to look her in the eye. The arousal was fading, leaving behind a stinging sense of shame and emptiness. "Let's go," she said in her usual, dry voice. There was no hint of the passion that had passed. Only a slight tremor in her hands betrayed it. We emerged from the thicket onto a path. Katya stood twenty meters away, beaming, holding a full container of blueberries. — Where have you disappeared to? I called! "Mom twisted her ankle," I answered automatically. "I helped her get there." "Oh, Mom, how are you?" Katya rushed to her mother. "It's okay, it's over. It's just age," Irina Vitalievna waved her hand dismissively. Her gaze slid over me, quick and unreadable. We walked back to the car. I carried the containers, Katya chatted about berries and how she'd make a pie. Andrey muttered something about being tired. And I could smell her perfume, mixed with our shared sweat and the sex that still lingered around me. I felt the stickiness of semen on my inner thigh, which I hadn't completely wiped away. She sat in the back of the car, next to Andrey. I sat in the passenger seat, next to Katya. As we pulled away, I caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. She was looking straight at me. Not smiling. Not frowning. Just looking. And there was no shame or regret in that look. There was knowledge. A shared, dirty, vicious knowledge that would now bind us forever. And then she slowly, so that only I could see, ran her tongue over her lips and turned away to the window.