I was still in my robe and giggled that I may well be a nudist too. I often didn't dress until later in the day - and that was usually only to go out ...n an errand. Weekends were usually spent in PJs and a robe. But this time, I was just in my robe. No PJs. Maybe deep-down, Carl was starting to have an influence on me. I smiled at the thought and headed to the fridge and sift through its bleak contents with hopes of finding something to eat. I wasn't really hungry but knew that I should start on. She arched her back, rubbed my thigh, leaned in a few times for small pecks on the lips and even let the back of her hand brush over my cock a few times. I was having so much fun that I became comfortable just flirting, talking and getting drunk.Teri, on the other hand was not so caught up in our bantering and flirting that she had forgotten about sex. The more she drank, the more aggressive and sexual she became. At 11:30, she finally just blurted out, “So are we fucking or not?” She didn’t. As we walked toward the pole barns side door I realized in a moment of courage it was now or never. I jokingly slapped her on the ass saying, “You’ll get a bill in the mail.” Her big ass rippled against my palm. “You better straighten up boy,” Gina remarked. “Boy?” I said, “Do you call an alligator a lizard?” I had used this line countless times before but now it seemed to hold new significance saying it to my mother-in-law. The old whore shook her head in cocky fashion, “Alligator my ass.” My. It was symbolic of his intent to snake something bigger into this embarrassed, tormented woman's openings, and she knew it. She reluctantly opened her mouth and let this slimy monster slither into her mouth. Her moan was a sign of reluctance and despair that her husband mistook for ecstasy. It was killing him. His feeling of rage was also matched by his curiosity about what his wife would allow herself to do.To her husband who was not aware of the pain and coercion, it looked like she was.
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