Sunday, April 10, 2016
Riding the trains with mother-in-law (a fragment)
When I came back to our compartment, I noticed that Darren’s face had turned almost ghostly pale.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“It’s slipped loose, mummy,” he whined, “I tried to readjust it when it got uncomfortable, but then it slipped loose and I can’t get it back down.”
I took a better look at my panicking son-in-law. Sure enough, the front of my purple silk dress I had lent him was now sporting a tent in the front. Why on Earth did he have to fiddle with his panties at that very moment? With the train about to stop at our station in merely a few minutes, though, there was no time for such thoughts. I locked the door, closed the drapes and pulled my son-in-law off his seat.
“Are you absolutely sure you can’t get it back in place?” I asked him.
“I can’t even touch it now,” he said, fighting tears, “it’s almost at the point of bursting.”
“Why don’t you just make it burst, then?” I proposed, “That way it won’t give you any problems, will it?”
“I can’t just…” he stammered, “Not here.”
“Oh for goodness sake, we don’t have a lot of time, Darren!” I said, exasperated, grabbed his erection through the silk of his dress and started to stroke it.
“No, mummy, stop!” he mewled. Afraid that he was going to ejaculate in his dress, I hurriedly hiked its skirts up.
“I can’t make a mess!” he protested, but still obediently kept his skirts up, exposing his swollen, rock hard penis, pointing upwards.
“How will I clean myself up?” he continued.
I admit that I hadn’t thought about the problem of dealing with the ejaculate afterwards, but I didn’t stop stroking. However, I had no tissues left and there wasn’t enough time to fetch some from the train’s toilet.
“Do you have any napkins?” I asked.
“No… maybe…. In my bag…” he panted.
“Yes or no?” I hissed.
“I’m not sure,” he moaned, his voice trembling.
I glanced around the compartment, both surveying the potential damage his ejaculation might cause and trying to find something to block it with. For a brief moment, I entertained the idea of using my silk scarf, but I discarded it with disgust.
“Of for crying out loud,” I muttered, then squatted down in front of him and wrapped my lips around the tip of his penis. I gripped the back of his thighs for balance and then felt the skirts of his dress fall down around my head. As the first wave of his orgasm shook him, I was afraid he would buckle so much to pull his penis out of my mouth but in the end I managed to get all of his ejaculate without spilling a drop.
I waited for a second more, then crawled out of his dress and stood up.
“Pull up your skirts,” I said. I bent his now flaccid organ backwards and pulled his panties back into place, but not before giving his bare buttock a sharp slap.
“That’s for taking it out in the first place,” I hissed into his ear.
The train conductor knocked on our door to let us know we should get off just as Darren was finished rearranging the skirts of his dress around his legs, now without any telltale bulge in front.