Bernadette was the epitome of the Irish mammy. The matriarch who for years had ruled her household on a tight rein. She’d had her fair share of knocks too. A wayward son with a severe alcohol problem. A daughter who’d had been left in a wheelchair as a result of a botched operation up in Dublin. Niamh was married to Padraig and for the most time content. Been in wheelchair in your early forties wasn’t ideal but there was nothing they could do. Consultants and specialist were in agreement that Niamh was indeed lucky to be alive. If this wasn’t bad enough Bernadette was widowed in her early sixties due to the curse of the bottle. Dennis was a good man but weak when it came to stout and whisky. So as you can see Bernie as she was known to her family and friends was to say the least, weary and tired.
Lately Padraig was hanging around while Niamh went for physio. Padraig was lonely and Bernie could sense it. She’d try and cheer him up but it was futile. It was adult conversation and intimacy he craved. The touch of a woman. It was a Tuesday morning. Padraig called in as usual for the tea and chat with Bernie but she was out. The house was quiet and all he could hear was the snores of Cahir coming from the upstairs back bedroom after a night of boozing. He boiled the kettle anyway. Just then the door opened. It was Bernie. She’d told Padraig that she’d been at Joan Byrne’s funeral. An old neighbour from way back. Hence the black attire. As she took off her winter coat he couldn’t help notice Bernie looked different. He hadn’t noticed before but for a woman of her age she had a decent figure. She’d always wear skirts and aprons like the traditional Irish mammy, not today. No. She was wearing a black sensible cashmere jumper that came to just above her waist with a white blouse underneath and a pair of black trousers. All you’d expect for a funeral. But lately Padraig was masturbating more than usual. Playing out scenarios in his head. Taboo things. Things like having Bernie. His world weary, battle beating downtrodden mother in law. She bent over to lift the milk out of the fridge and noticed the panties line in her trousers. Full panties or granny panties was probably what she had on, but it didn’t stop him from fantasizing that they maybe wear silky nylon and heaven forbid a whore red. Jesus it was getting desperate. He was just so horny all the time. Now his attentions was aimed at his wife’s mother. Jesus if there was a hell, he was going. He got up and offered to help Bernie make the tea and what he did next was a creepy despicable thing. He purposely brushed his hand against her bum. The trousers felt lovely. Polyester was cheap but the sight of her bum and pantie line in them made him hard. Jesus Bernie I’m sorry he said. She blushed and said not to worry. A joke about a cheap thrill was muttered from her lips but he wasn’t listening. She laughed and carried on talking. Only this time she never took her eyes of him. She kept looking at him in the eye. When he said he had to go Bernie said grand and stood up to see him out. As she stood up he commented on how she scrubbed up well. Especially liking her look in trousers. She smiled and no point in lying felt a little flutter in the pit of her stomach. She seen him out and carried on with her day.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ugpyk9/a_motherinlaws_unexpected_journey_m4f