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Gemma looked at her watch and did so after she had twisted the strap around her slender wrist. It would soon be time for her to go to work, the children in playgroups and taken care of by friends until she could collect them. Organizing her work roster around their care took some time and all of her persuasive skills.
Now, she had some moments to spare and watched her father-in-law, Stan Clarke, through the kitchen window as he worked at relaying the sods of turf that covered the cable that supplied power to the garden lanterns that he had installed in places that she had chosen, with Jake's agreement. They would bathe the grass, and close surroundings to them, in a soft light when the kids wanted to play in the gathering gloom of a winter's evening, or when she and Jake entertained friends, seated around the table by the brightly painted garden house with its decking.
Stan had created it all and had even paid for some of it, choosing to call the works a 'present' for her and Jake's birthdays. She knew the true reason for his continuing involvement in getting her home straight; he missed few opportunities to be with her.
'I'll be off to work soon Stan!' she called out to him, through the open door that led out to the garden.
'Okay, I'm almost through with this...it's gone well,' he answered with a casual wave, and on a stilled look her way. He had heard her happy voice. 'I'll come and see you off...'
She snorted a soft disbelieving laugh on hearing him say it and watched Stan step over the path towards her, treading down the edges of the turf that he had disturbed. He looked so darned 'hot' for a man his age, his faded denim shirt, matched by belted jeans, a counterpoint to the curls of snow-white hair to be seen at the hollow of his throat and stark against Stan's tanned skin. He was strong and kept in shape and she was pleased that this streak of vanity in him had persisted over the years she had known him and, on occasion, of him.
He met her disconcerted look his way as he closed the space between them. 'You're wonderful to look at, even in that work uniform you have to wear.'
'I'll think of you...what we've done, again,' she smiled wanly, moving her head as his fingers caressed her throat and she met the stilled look of his eyes upon her. 'You needed me again, didn't you?'
'Yeah' he smiled, 'and we have no time as we once did.'
'That was long ago...'
'Not so long ago that I can't keep a hold of the memories, Gem', you know that, don't you? Besides,' he smiled and looked knowingly at her, 'Bryony and Jonno are reminders of how it was between us.'
Gemma nodded. She needed no reminding of all that she had resorted to and agreed upon, to make those kids become a reality for her.
'And I can't seem to let them go, though I should!' She rose on tip toes to kiss him quickly. 'Lock up, won't you?'
'What, the house or the memories?'
'Both, now I really have to go!' she laughed out, brightly. 'Take care of yourself, and thanks for everything,' she smiled, looking at him as if it was to be for the last time, lovers taking their leave of each other. She had known, again, that she was in his blood and had been overwhelmed by his ardour almost from the moment that Stan had arrived at her door a couple of hours ago and she was getting ready for work.
The front door closed silently behind her. She knew that he could not see her through the frosted glass, but she still looked back at the house, her mind possessed by what she had done for him, fully clothed. A flurry of kisses, open-mouthed and passionate, had been his greeting of her and, somehow, she had restrained him in his caresses and soft voice urging that he take her on the bed upstairs.
'Use your mouth on me, then, if you've got no time for the rest of it,' he had commanded, but his voice hinting that it was a request of her that she should go down on him.
Her shoes clacked on the pavement as she hurried along, her thoughts filled with what she had done for him. An aberrant need to perform the act had also taken hold in her.
Stan had simply waited for her, sat on a kitchen bar stool with his jeans and pants around his ankles and covering his work shoes, and she'd taken in the aroused state of Stan's penis and the weight of his ball sac, so gnarled and heavy, full of what she knew he could bring to her, just as he had done so many times in the past. His balls shaped the wrinkled skin of his sac and she had reached for them, stroked a hand over his long, veined shaft as she rolled them in her small hands. She had never gotten used to how quickly he could be aroused, or what he brought to his loving of her, and now what he asked her to do.
'I...I just need to lose this with you,' she had heard Stan groan and had obliged him, had knelt on the kitchen floor, between his parted legs and flickered her tongue over the tip of his penis, tasted the pre-cum on it before her tongue swirled over it and down his hairless shaft before she took it in her mouth and sucked, then dragged her teeth gently over the underside in ways that she remembered he loved her to do.
She had marveled, once more, at his state of arousal, had felt the veins under the skin of his shaft as she licked down to his balls, one hand then gripping the base as she put her mouth to him once more and began to suck, to bob her head as her lips and hands worked him. She had shivered, as always, on feeling his strength and the girth of his wonderful penis that she would suck and squeeze pleasure from, just as his ways of fucking her had taken her to places she never found with Jake.
She thought of him as a stud, her special man in what their trysts had resulted in and that Jake had failed to achieve. Her sperm donor had been and still was, her lover. Stan had been only too willing to be of help and it was as if his bond with her went far beyond what she had with Jake, a man reluctant to pursue all means of having kids. His mind was closed to the idea of it ever happening; Stan had confounded all of that and Jake had never had any cause to question how it had happened, twice, except that she had pursued him in making love to her as well, soon after Stan had been in her. It had been so deceitful, but she had learned to live with the memories, sharp moments of recall that Stan's demands upon her kept so alive.
She would do this for him, for Stan...
The devoted mother, the wife of Stan's son, the mother of children she knew were Stan's, had become lost in a frenzy of licking, sucking, tugging, and squeezing on that length of flesh that had found her, that had brought on shattering and wasting orgasms in quick and raging succession whenever they had been together, like moths around the flame, obsessive in their own ways about what they had sought from each other.
