It Was Never Enough
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Gemma wondered just what she had gotten into with Stan.
What had begun as a purposeful affair, with her father-in-law, had endured for so much longer than she had ever dreamt would be possible; its destructive nature inevitably leading to one of them saying something that would reveal, to others, how a family bond had been stretched beyond imagining.
The rugged man, still so strong and virile, had opened the way for her to lead a new life. It was one that she had dreamt of and pursued with unflinching determination. Their personalities sparked off each other; she wanting to be a mother and having had difficulties with Frank in making that happen; Stan bewilderingly compliant in tamping her until Jonno, then Bryony, had been conceived and born. She had slept with them both, stepson and stepfather; one compliant, the other passionate and blissfully determined.
That should have been the end of their times together, but that would have been to ignore what else played out between them; the knowledge that Stan had been the one whose ways had shattered any mental barrier to what she had wanted. To have had his support of her had been so at odds with his wife Betty’s almost casual indifference to whether her daughter-in-law bore her any grandchildren. There had to be some reason for it not happening, she had opined, and, by inference, the blame being put on her son’s wife.
Only, now, Betty doted in the two kids as if it had always been what she too had wanted and conveniently forgetting that it had been a case of her being supported by Stan and Betty and Frank on the other side. Over the years of her marriage, she had learnt that Stan lived by his own rules. He accepted many, certainly not all, the boundaries that Betty set for their lives together. They were said to be happy and were seen to be a devoted couple, each of them forthright and determined in their own ways. When it happened, the hot flush of an argument was soon dispelled by softer words. Stan was the pursuer of those quieter ways between them.
He had even witnessed a defining argument some five years ago when she had stepped onto a path that had finally brought them together, Frank saying that he wondered when she would accept that their marriage might be childless. He had failed to hear her approach as they talked, a simple DIY task interrupted.
‘How long have you been standing there?’ Frank had asked in dismay on seeing Stan look over his shoulder at her.
‘Oh, long enough!’ she had shouted in reply and glaring at him. ‘You’ve been playing me along all this time! Your mind’s been somewhere else! It takes two…in body and soul to make it happen! Have you got that?’
Frank had been seen to hold out a hand to her, but she had not taken it. ‘I just need to understand when it’ll be that we accept all of this…the fact of us not having kids?’
‘One would be enough, just one! It would be a wonderful new step in our lives! Try to see it in that way just for a change, will you? Take in what it means to me!’
‘It cuts both ways!’ Frank had retorted angrily and glaring at her. ‘Just give it a rest…let things take their course.’
‘Oh sure! If we did that nothing would happen! You’ve gone off the idea of being with me, in…’ she had realised what was being said in Stan’s presence.
Stan had given her a soft smile of understanding, before she had rushed from the room, her footsteps echoing in the stairwell, then on the tiled floor of the hallway below them. She had known it then, that a defining moment in their relationships had been reached. It now involved Frank and, disconcertingly, Stan too.
Yes, he had been ‘on her side’, then as now; sensed that there was an inevitability about their circumstances and his concern for her, the attractive young woman with her obsession he had told her when Frank was out of their hearing. She remembered the moment only too well. She had been clothed in her washed-out tan slacks and floaty white blouse; the fabric taut against the generous, weighty swell of her breasts; its neckline revealing a chunky Boho choker necklace.
She, the rebellious one had come back into the room once Frank had left Stan to clear up. The look of a thoughtful, grey-haired man had been met; a man whose bulk dwarfed her slender frame. What they had then told each other was like the making of a pledge and the forming of a bond. It had soon become a tempestuous, and only too defining, love affair; a relationship that could so easily flare into an all-consuming desire to be together again. She was a young woman only too aware of his continued attention upon her.
After all, Stan had instinctively told her at the niğde escort time, ‘that we’ll get through this, and we’ll do that together.’
She had failed to realise that his spontaneous ways would place demands upon her when she least expected them. It was the man’s unpredictable nature, where it concerned satisfying his hunger for her, that kept all that they had discovered burning way too bright. It was an aberrant passion that would flare into an unquenchable heat.
‘It’s Stan and Betty!’ Frank called out to her as he saw his parents through the glass panes set into the front door. They were seen to be standing on the steps leading up to the house. The door chimes faded; no longer trilled and the sound no longer filling the brightly painted hallway.
Frank pushed Jonno’s trike to one side so that he could pass and open the door to them.
‘Hi…your father and I were passing,’ Betty said on greeting him. She caught sight of Gemma who cradled Bryony in the crook of her arm. The child’s blonde hair was already growing long and was much like her mother’s. ‘I say we were passing…in fact, Stan wanted to bring the doll’s house…thought we’d call in.’
‘And we’re glad you did. He’s told me about it.’ The two women kissed; a perfunctory exchange to their cheeks. She then met Stan’s kiss and met his look upon her. ‘You could stay for lunch…’
‘We could,’ Stan smiled in reply and casting a look her way once more. ‘I’ll bring the things in and go buy some wine…’
‘I could do that…Gem wanted me to take the kids to the park…feed the ducks…’ Frank offered.
‘We could all go,’ Betty suggested. ‘I’ve not done that in ages…the two of us haven’t.’ She looked up at Stan, hopefully, as she stood beside him. ‘The doll’s house can keep a while, can’t it?’
‘No, you go,’ he retorted and loosening her grip on his arm. ‘The doll’s house needs some gluing and tacking. Then the furniture, I’ve made, can go in…’
Stan was the object of their attention.
‘You made that too?’ Gemma asked in some surprise. She looked at Betty who held open the bag she was carrying. ‘So you have…’
‘You know my Stan. Once he starts something there’s no stopping him…’
Gemma stifled any reply to what had been said. The simplest of comments now held an altogether different meaning for her; the unease that flared up when she thought of her liaison with Betty’s husband. The woman was only too attractive, in her stately ways and her lively eyes staring out from a smooth skinned, unlined face that bore the softest of tans. Her eyebrows neatly plucked and a light application of blusher all that was needed to declare that she still took pride in her appearance. As ever, she wore casual slacks and a blouse, not unlike what Gemma had chosen to wear earlier that morning. Gemma knew, however, from past experiences that Betty was of uncertain temperament as Stan had once admitted to her.
‘Well, what’s it to be?’ Betty prompted.
Gemma looked on as Frank and she talked, came to a decision on what to do. She would again be alone in the house with Stan; purposefully contrived, on his part, she had no doubt. Once the mention of a walk with the children had been suggested by Frank she had known where matters could soon lead them and if she complied..
She’d not dressed for him but was glad that she had done so. Weekends, and meeting up with him and Betty, had an unpredictability quite of their own. She also knew that she was a counterpoint to all that played out in his life with Betty, but her part in it had come to sit uneasily on her shoulders, much as she cared for him and what Stan had helped her to make only too real.
It was the fragility of the steps they took to give no clue to what had played out between them, and could do so again, that caused her the deepest of concern. That, and the disloyalty to important others in their lives.
‘Well, what have you decided?’ Gemma asked. ‘Whatever it is, I need to prepare lunch if you are staying?’
She directed her question at Betty, but Stan answered for them.
‘We’re staying. That way I see that my work is done…’
Frank took Bryony from her arms. ‘Give it forty-five minutes or so…you know how Bryony can be…Jonno too, when we’re in the park.’
‘And I’ll get some wine…’ Betty smiled at Frank. ‘One less job for you, darling…’
Gemma turned away and went into the kitchen. She had no right to intrude on that other life that Stan led with Betty. He had no reason to be in hers in the ways of before or it could destroy everything. But they were like the moths around the flame.
Something escort niğde had yet to be fully settled between them.
His deep voice startled her as Stan came into the kitchen ad stood close to her. He did not touch her.
‘It’s finished, so come and have a look. I’ve glued it all together and furnished it. Your little girl has something to grab her attention and let her imagination fly!’ She heard his engaging laugh as Stan said it; knew that he was pleased. Her heart went out to him.
‘You spoil her…as ever.’
‘Her mother makes me do that.’
‘Yes, soon. Now come along. The toys I made for Frank soon got him talking…made him imagine all kinds of things and I’m hoping your Bryony will be the same. She’ll start to tell her own stories.’
Gemma impulsively reached for his hand as Stan made to go upstairs. ‘She’s our girl…ours! You know how it went!’
‘Yes, I know,’ he answered softly, his hands cupping her upturned face. ‘If I say it I’ll let something else slip…’
Gemma could only nod her reply. ‘You keep on giving…’
She wiped her hands on a cloth. Lunch preparations could keep. She wanted to be with him and to talk; to see what Stan had made for Bryony in its completed state.
‘It’s a distraction for me,’ he now told her as they stood on the landing. ‘The more complicated it is the better for me…’
‘Is…is our situation getting to you again, Stan…you darling man? I never thought it would hold you so tight.’ She asked it on pulling on his polo shirt to slow his progress and devote attention upon her while they had the chance.
‘Look at the house I’ve made…then we’ll talk.’
The young woman beguiled him. She had a hold in his consciousness that could not be stilled and that tugged at his conscience. But the sight of her pushed all such concerns form his mind, as they had done so many times before.
‘Sorry, but there are times when I can’t be in the same room as you…can’t keep my hands from you…whatever we did it was never enough.’
He embraced her; held Gemma to him and slowly pushed his hands under her blouse to cup her breasts and to delight again in all that was hidden under Gemma’s blouse. He yearned to simply hold them and feel their weight, and to know that the soft fabric of her bra was all but a second skin.
‘Stan…Stan…there’s so little time!’ She squirmed under his caresses and threaded the fingers of one hand with his as Stan now fumbled with the fastening of her slacks. He soon pushed them away, enough, to begin caressing her mons, before placing his hand over it. He slowly pricked with his fingers. ‘I know…it’s a madness we don’t want to find a cure for.’
‘What we have is so different. I can’t let it be…you know how it is for me only too well.’ His breaths were hot on her throat; his vitality to be felt press against her buttocks as his embrace tightened upon her.
‘You terrify me with what you bring…Stan, you darling man. But…but we have to let it go.’
Gemma clamped one hand on him. She felt the hard swell in his jeans. She couldn’t bring herself to deny to him what he sought of her and to leave him plagued by his desire to know of her again and with that erection straining in his pants.
She led him into the bedroom and slipped off her cargo pants; then her thong. Gemma watched him tug at his belt and she moved to kneel before him; knew that there would be no time for preambles.
Stan met her look as she took his balls gently in her hand as the other worked the long, thick girth of his penis; felt his hands in the tumble of her hair as Gemma’s fleshy lips parted and she took him in her mouth.
‘Just a few,’ he groaned. Stan’s body jerked and he grabbed on to her shoulders,; felt the fabric slide as she slipped him further and further into her throat.
‘You wonder…you wonder…how you scare me,’ she gasped, almost gagging on what he sought of her.
She worked her tongue around it as she withdrew and then licked it over and over again. Stan’s breathing grew deeper as his dick received a frenzied workout.
‘Enough, darling girl.. there’s no time for it all…’ The fire was beginning to take a hold and he pushed her away; he did not want to burst in her mouth. ‘Sit on the edge of the bed…’
Stan pushed up her legs as she lay back and buried his face to her wet folds; pushed his fingers to her, then opened the way to his claims. She gripped his shoulders; did that fiercely to look down at what he would bring. His physique was breath taking and she shivered as he pushed her back on the bed and gripped her legs; niğde escort bayan kept them wide as he buried his face to her; worked his tongue as it moved rapidly over wet lips before exploring the inner depths.
‘Okay?’ she saw him grin, his lips slicked with her juices.
‘Yes…now fuck me! Be quick…there’s no time for soft words!’
She screamed out her demands and pulled on him with her legs as best as Stan’s taking of her allowed; almost in a posture of submission to his needs. She couldn’t keep her body from shaking as he continued to tease her with a mixture of licking and sucking, sometimes gentle, sometimes rougher. Her mind and body now wanted him to fuck her. She felt the strength in his hands as he stood between her legs and drew her onto him; rammed his pole into her warm, slicked, pussy as far as it would go. He fingered her opening as the means to pursue another impetuous and frenzied rut, animalistic in its purpose. Making love was for another time; and she was ashamed to admit that there had been many, but now their actions were fraught with risk.
Stan groaned in his efforts and out of delight for what she did on his prick. He fucked her; felt Gemma’s body yield to every plunging, plugging thrust as the walls of her wet haven gripped him then easing. She was working to bring him on.
‘Don’t stop now, girl!’
It felt as if this young woman and his aching cock were the whole world; brought so much more than the pleasure that Betty so often bestowed.
‘Stan…Stan!’ she yelped as his claims wracked her body.
‘You’re too much…it’s never enough,’ he gasped as he met her kisses; felt the fierce grip of her hands to his neck as he pounded into her until it was upon him, and he was truly gone…
In two great thrusts and a moan of surrender, he succumbed to a hugely pleasurable orgasm. The pleasure was excruciating, shuddering down his cock in violent thuds as he flooded her; ejaculated in thick jetting streams as he slammed again and again into her slick, squishy folds, squeezing her tightly and making sounds he’d never made before.
‘I…I can’t bear this…it can’t go on! Stan…Stan!’
Her lover’s penis, the wild man claiming her was too much. She felt him burst with profound joy as she felt pleasure at the wildness of it reach a peak and sent her tumbling over the edge. His arms enfolded her before she was lifted from the bed. She felt impaled on him for several seconds of mindless pleasure; the soft featherings of pleasure making her shudder as waves of completion and spending crashed over her.
She was utterly lost in unthinking ecstasy.
She groaned and thrashed as the pleasure expanded through her body, swelling to a tremendous throb and releasing in a series of quick, staccato snaps, shooting pulses of satisfaction out from her clitoris and through her body. And through all this, she could feel his cock sliding rapidly in and out of her, elevating the experience to a pitch of almost unspeakable carnality.
Gemma gasped out of fear and pleasure from all that she had again succumbed to.
‘How can we keep this a secret….tell me how…how Stan?’
She asked it of him as he withdrew and tugged a handkerchief from his pocket; pressed to clean her dripping pussy after he had dressed. She took hold of his hand and stood up; met his hooded stare upon her. Gemma thought she might never walk again after the battering she’d taken. She’d gone back on the pill; wondered if the man would breach that defence too. His lust seemed to be boundless; she wondered how Betty lived with the man and his demands for satisfaction.
Whatever they brought to him, in their own ways, it was never enough.
She gathered up her cargo trousers and pants and rushed to the en-suite bathroom. Stan was not in the room when she had finished; had restored her makeup and the fit of her clothes. Her mind was in a whirl as she went to find him; heard Stan in Bryony’s bedroom.
‘The last touches to your girl’s dolls house…’ he sighed on looking at her and taking in Gemma’s loveliness once more. He met again her distracted look upon her. ‘You’re right, it can’t go on…I’m a selfish bastard.’
‘No, you’re not, but I don’t want to lose the magic memories by having others know what we have done.’
Gemma rushed away from him and ran down the stairs.
She knew it too, but she’d wanted to be let down gently in spite of her heated words only moments ago.
Stan was seen coming down the stairs, the box that he had brought to carry the doll’s house in his big hands, when the front door opened.
‘The children wanted to feed the ducks in the park!’ Betty laughed out on seeing him and they stood in the echoing hallway. ‘Are you finished? You’ll spoil them with what you make….’
‘That’s what I’ve been telling him, Betty,’ Gemma chipped in, and on looking at each of them in turn, ‘but whatever we have said it was never enough.’
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