From the Peeping Tom Chronicles

Coming from Javon64


Immoral Crush

Have you ever had a crush on someone that you knew it was immoral to have a crush on? That crush could have been a close friend’s spouse, the pastor of your church, or as close as a distant cousin, even. For me that crush was my mother-in-law, Martha. Yeah, sounds fucked up, doesn’t it? You haven’t heard the half of it.

My wife and I had been married for a little over three years when I started seeing her mother in a completely different light. Contrary to what people may think, I tried repeatedly to fight off the impure thoughts of my mother-in-law, but they kept coming back. Part of the reason was that everywhere I turned in our house, was a sexy picture of Martha, in either a skirt or some other skimpy outfit. Mind you, she wasn’t sexy to me until one particular Saturday when I accidentally walked in the bathroom just as she was getting out the shower. That’s the day it all started. Though it was just one of those quick in-and-out peeps, in my mind it lasted a lot longer. The cool thing was that she didn’t even bug out on me or tell her daughter, which kinda added to my fantasy because I could pretend that she got just as aroused as I did. Not a day went by after that, that I didn’t look at her pictures around the house and suddenly find myself off in a daze fantasizing. In the middle of the night while my wife would be sleeping beside me, I would be lying there, quietly masturbating to my Saturday morning stroke of luck. It even got so bad that when my wife and I would make love, in my mind it was Martha I was fucking. Before you go saying what a disgusting person I am for doing that, let me tell you the whole story.

Ever since I can remember, my wife’s mother has been coming to visit us two weekends a year. Now before that little Saturday morning wake-me-up, I never looked at Martha in no-way-shape-or-form sexually. Not because she was hideous or anything, but simply because she was my mother-in-law. It amazes me how seeing someone in the buff will either conjure up feelings of lust—or disgust. As I said before, Martha was cool about the whole thing, maybe a little too cool some would probably say. A few hours after I saw her goods, she started calling me PC (Peeping Clarence) on the low. That became our little inside joke that entire day, and every time she would say it, my dick would get harder and harder. Keep in mind that this was just her first visit of the year.

A couple of months after that incident, I was browsing the internet and came across an ad for a spy camera. You know the kind you see in James Bond movies—the ones smaller than a golf ball. Shame to say, but as soon as I saw it, Martha was the first person that popped in my head. This was a Wednesday and as fate had it, Martha was due to come back for her final visit of the year that coming Friday. Let’s just say I was too amped, and ordered that camera immediately, without so-much as any concern about cost. I had the camera shipped via overnight delivery—and in case you’re wondering, my conniving ass had it shipped to my job so that my wife wouldn’t find out.

When it arrived you would have thought I was a boy that had just received his order out the back of a comic book. I was grinning from ear to ear as I rushed home to find a good spot in our guest room to hide it. I knew that wherever I hid it, I had to make damn sure it wouldn’t be detected, because if Martha or my wife found out, our marriage would be over for sure. But at the same time, I had to be sure to put it in a place where it could capture the whole room without any object obstructing its view.

After searching the room up and down for a good hiding spot, I decided—against my better judgement, mind you—that the dresser was the best place to stash the camera. The dresser was positioned adjacent to the bed, and with its cluttered surface I knew there was no way a tiny black circular object would be noticed. At least so I hoped.

Unbeknownst to me, Martha had informed her daughter days before, that she was bringing along a new male friend of hers when she came. My wife neglected to tell me of course, until the day of—but why would she?—it’s not like it was any of my business. When Darlene told me, my first thought was to hurry and remove the camera from the room—just knowing my plans were spoiled. Before my wife dropped that bombshell on me, my initial plan was to hopefully get some good footage of Martha in her panties, at most—and if I was lucky maybe a good titty and money shot. But when I thought about it, I realized that this was actually even better. Martha was bringing along a friend with her, which possibly meant that some good old fashioned fucking was going down in our guest room. The more I thought about it the more I convinced myself that this weekend could possibly be dick-beating-heaven. I swear when a man gets horny—at least me anyway—all of the blood that supplies the logical thinking side of the brain somehow manages to drain right down to his illogical thinking penis. In otherwards the deciding factor on me leaving the camera in the guestroom was my dick making its way up toward the elastic waistband of my boxers.

Martha was always dating some guy young enough to be her son for a hot second, before cutting them loose and hooking another one. It still amazes me how different her and my wife is from one another. A person only had to be around them both for a few hours to come away wondering which one was the mother out the two. Martha had what my granny use to say, a jazzy way about her. Although she was in her late forties you couldn’t tell by the way she dressed or talked. I don’t believe Martha even owned one pair of pants in her wardrobe—or a dress that made it anywhere near her knees. I can recall more than a few times where she was talking dirty to one of her friends (as she called them), on her cell with us right there in the same room. My wife would always holler “Mama…” while shoeing her to another room. “My mother crazy,” Darlene would say later to me. “We don’t wanna hear that stuff. Do we baby? Like the good husband I would always give the correct answer, agreeing or course.

Now my wife Darlene on the other hand, might as well have been a Nun in a convent. We had been married over three years and I still couldn’t count on one hand, the times she had ever shown her legs. She even wore pyjama pants to bed…and don’t let me get started on our sex life. Part of the reason my mind was always elsewhere when we had sex—made love, depending on who you ask—was because all she ever did was lay there, with an occasional “Oow” and “ah” every now and then. Hey, I know what you’re saying—maybe it’s just me—maybe I’m just not hitting it right. Whatever.

Anyway, that Friday night when my mother-in-law arrived, everything was already set up in the guest room and ready to go. The camera was positioned on the dresser, camouflaged amongst the array of other items, and I was waiting anxiously for bedtime like a kid waiting for Chris Cringle. That night when everyone turned in, I tossed and turned restlessly, imaging what was going on over in the next room. That camera was the next best thing to a fly on the wall if there was one.

That next morning at breakfast, I was both a nervous wreck and a horny sonuvabitch. Every time my mother-in-law, or her twenty-three year old friend, Phillip looked my way, I thought they had found the camera and was about to bust me out. Turns out I was nervous for nothing because neither of them said a word. Earlier that week, Darlene had made reservations for the four of us to eat at this new Italian joint that had just opened up downtown. Fortunately for me, those two years of Drama Class I took in high school weren’t in vain. I pretended to be sick so good that I should have won an Oscar. My whole objective was just to stay home and see what the spy camera recorded, and hopefully beat some serious dick—if there was anything worth beating to. All I expected to see at the very least was Martha changing clothes, but what I got was even better.

When I sat down and started the tape, you would have thought I was about to watch a Saturday Night Main Event. The only thing different was that there was no popcorn and soda. No Siry bob…I got me a fresh bottle of Johnson’s Baby Oil, and stripped down to my nothing but my boxers, and hit play. When the video started I was skinning and grinning, I tell you. All while getting my hands good and greasy. It was a good thing the spy cam was censor activated, because Martha and Phillip were in and out of the bedroom for at least twenty minutes before they finally got ready for bed. And as soon as I saw that door shut, I pulled my dick out and started stroking it early in anticipation. You can’t even rent pornography this good.

Watching my mother-in-law take her clothes off gave me a flurry of flashbacks. My dick was stiffening more and more as I watched her titties spring out her shirt, looking like two mature cantaloupes. Her boobs were staked up on her chest like implants, but they weren’t. Everything about them was genuine, from her extra large nipples to her honey brown areolas. As I sat on the bed checking out my mother-in-law’s groceries, I could clearly see why she attracted younger men. She was a fucking knock-out. As she undressed completely, I looked down at my beer gut and then back at her in amazement. Martha more than doubled my age yet her stomach didn’t have one fat roll in it—and her legs made her a definite candidate for Leggs Pantyhose spokesperson of the year. And that’s another thing…I never saw Martha walk further than our front door to her car, but she had the ass of a woman that obviously spent more than a few minutes on a Stairmaster. I found myself repeating the same words over and over as I sat there in disbelief. “No fucking way she’s pushing fifty... No fucking way she’s pushing fifty...”

Unfortunately for me $99.99 doesn’t afford you the luxury of a sound recordable spy camera, so I was stuck lip reading. It didn’t bother me none because if given the choice between which I’d rather have, I’d have chosen video, hands down. Sound or no sound I stroked my dick like a champ while watching Martha help her boy-toy out of his Rocawear jeans and Polo shirt. His dick was about as hard as mine when my mother-in-law opened up wide and took it into her mouth. Phillip laid back against the backboard like he had suddenly been drained of all his energy, and put both his hands on Martha’s head while she sucked him off. She was a real pro, too. Each time she took his dick into her mouth it disappeared more and more until his balls were only thing visible. He was gripping her hair so tight that I halfway thought he was going to pull it out. Martha didn’t seem fazed, though, she kept doing her thing—occasionally spitting on his dick and slurping every drop of it back off. That poor boy looked like he was having a heart attack.

I was nearly ready to blow my wad already, just from watching Martha’s deep throat action. I damn near couldn’t believe my eyes. My mother-in-law was getting her fuck on, while in actuality we were right next door. This was too good to be true.

When she got finished and pulled her mouth away from his dick, a long string of saliva was still connect from her lips to the head. His dick was stiff and the way he was laying made it lean like The Leaning Tower of Pisa. That boy didn’t know how lucky he was, I kept thinking. I would have gladly given my left testicle to switch places with him. I wanted his spot even more when Martha stood up over his mouth and held onto the backboard, while squatting down to give him a mouthful of her hairy cunt. “My God!” I screamed while releasing a load of nut that I had felt just moments earlier, churning inside my ball sack.

Martha stuffed a pillow down behind the backboard and road that boy’s mouth like she was on a bucking horse in a rodeo. I was starting to get pissed the longer I watched, because the thought that all of this was going on right next door to Darlene and I, and I didn’t hear shit, was too much to bear. Martha’s ass and hips were gyrating like crazy in Phillip’s hands, while he ate her cunt with everything he had. She must have cum in his mouth several times from the way she was wiggling and jiggling all over his face. His dick didn’t budge; it was still stiff and hard, lying on his stomach just inches past his navel. Self-consciously I glanced down at my own dick in comparison. Some guys get the girl and the inches.

As soon as Martha was done cumming for the umpteenth time, her young stallion put on a condom he had in his overnight bag, and she proceeded to ride him. I couldn’t recall ever being as aroused as I was watching that video—I had already blew a hallatious load and yet-and-still my dick was still rock hard. The look on both their faces as Martha slid down on his dick was one of pure ecstasy. Both their mouths were wide open as if moaning at the tops of their lungs, except no sound was coming out. Phillip held Martha by her waist as she wrapped her hands around his neck and began to hump him with a series of erratic moves. I kept wondering where the xtacy was at, because she was like an out of control teen at a rave club. Talk about being spry, I thought.

I was well on my way to working up a second nut when what Martha did next sped up the process. There I was stroking till my heart’s content while watching her go bananas on Phillip’s dick, when suddenly she jumped off. I took from the way she scurried that he was about to cum, because my freaky mother-in-law jumped down in front of him and started jacking his dick off with her bare feet until he exploded all over her toes.

That’s all my ass had to see, and before I knew it, I was blowing another monstrous cum load, all over my boxer briefs. Afterwards, I hurried up and got myself all cleaned up before everyone returned and found out I was faking. Just in time, too, because time I got out the shower and put my clothes back on, they all came walking through the door. Talk about timing.

That night while Darlene slept, I bust two more nuts right there in the bed while replaying the priceless video in my head. Sunday afternoon when my mother-in-law left, I was sadder than you could even imagine. Not only was I going to have to wait an entire year for her next visit—but dig this. My dumb ass was in such a hurry to get dressed that night that I accidentally left the video tape in the VCR. I didn’t realize it until when I went to get the spy cam from off the dresser and found a yellow sticky attached to it with my mother-in-law’s handwriting. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard and fast my heart was beating when I read the following note.

Nice going PC

Hope you enjoyed the show

I’m looking forward to making another movie next year.

P.S. You better send me a copy.


Don’t you wish you had a mother-in-law like mine?


© 2006 by Javon64