My mother-in-law had a problem with alcohol and that problem became my problem when she got herself evicted and moved in with us. My wife told me to stop complaining, saying it was only temporary and I shouldn't lose any sleep over it. She assured me her mom was a private drinker and wouldn't dare do it in our house.
My wife was wrong on all counts - she did drink, I lost sleep, and it wasn't temporary. I wasn't complaining, though.
Louise, my mother-in-law, was a petite woman; about 5'6" and, at most, 95 pounds. She had a swirl of cotton candy hair, straight shoulders and some gentle southern curves. She had a shapely butt and a nice full chest. "Mom" was softer and puffier than she would have liked to have been, but years of binge drinking had left her that way – not unattractive, but a shadow of her youthful self.
She had been on her best behavior since arriving the previous week. My early concerns had been forgotten and I was getting used to her being around – she was a much better cook than my wife and often had dinner waiting for us when we got home from work.
On this particular Friday, my wife was out of town on business and I had been working late. I was exhausted and it was past midnight when I pulled into the driveway. I was surprised to see the majority of the house lights on.
Even so, I unlocked the door and entered the house quietly assuming Louise would be asleep. She wasn't.
The smell of beer hit me the second I stepped in and I feared the worse.
I found her slumped in a chair in the living room, a can of beer clutched tightly in her hand. The room was a mess and empty beer cans were strewn about. She didn't appear to be wearing any pants, just a long white blouse.
"It's about time you got home," she slurred loudly.
"What the –," I started.
"Oh, sorry," she stammered, rolling to her feet uneasily. "Forgot to clean up. Can't forget to keep the house clean ... you men like a clean house and a dirty wife."
I didn't know what to say and stood there dumbly as she started scooping up her empties. There were too many for her to hold and they tumbled out of her arms onto the floor.
She dropped to the floor after them, crawling around on all fours while pushing the cans into a small pile.
It was impossible not to notice her tight cotton panties as she scampered around. Louise must have been something special when she was younger. She still had great legs and a nice butt.
"You looking at my ass?" she said suddenly, catching my gaze.
"Uh, no," I stuttered, "I was just –,"
Still on all fours, she shook her firm butt back and forth.
"You never seen an ass before?" she questioned.
"I've seen –," I tried to answer.
"Just never seen my ass," she chortled, still shaking it in my direction.
"I -," I started.
"Here it is," she grunted, pulling her panties to her ankles; exposing her smooth shapely butt and the thick patch of hair between her legs. "My drunk ass."
"I'd better -," I mumbled, turning toward the stairs. Louise climbed to her feet and blocked my way.
"Better what?" she demanded, leaning from side to side like a basketball player trying to keep an opponent from passing. "Better not look at my ass? Why not? Too much for you? Too old?"
"Look, Mom," I said, pretending to be calm, but more excited than I wanted to admit. "I think it would be a good idea -,"
"You look," she continued, her fingers pulling at the buttons of her stained blouse. "Look! Look! Look! Look at me!"
Louise dropped the silken top to the ground and stood before me in just a crisp lace bra and nothing else. She looked much better than I would have imagined. Her arms went up to unclasp her sexy bra.
"Seen my ass," she said, tossing the bra at me. "Wanna see these old tits?"
She was totally nude, swaying drunkenly and still rambling.
"Nice tits, huh?" she asked, holding them for my inspection. "Jean's father, the pig, always liked them. Said they were my best feature. Couldn't keep his hands off them. Mouth, either. His stuff, too. He was always leaving his stuff on my tits. You wanna leave your stuff on my tits?"
She leaped into my arms and I instinctively caught her, not wanting her to fall.
"Do you?" she breathed into my neck, my arms still wrapped around her. "Bet you wanna do something on my tits."
