Once Sophia had opened the can of worms of taking her next youngest sister on as my side piece, it was pretty hard not to find the thought distracting. Honestly I could picture some definite pros and some real possible cons. And while Sophia was blithe about the potential negatives I still felt like I needed to do my due diligence.
And so, without telling Sophia in advance, I texted my mother-in-law Cherie.
"Hey, can we get together to talk?"
She responded less than an hour later
"BD! That sounds mysterious! What's up?" with a little curious faced emoji.
I always felt conflicted when Sophia's mom and sisters called me "BD." Sophia had initially entered my number in her phone with a contact name "Mr. BD,"short for Mr Big Dick, as an inside joke on the fact that I'd fucked her silly before she even really knew my name. But at some point I must have called her when she was hanging out with her mom or one her younger sisters and they'd gotten the idea that those were my initials or something. So even though we'd been introduced (and they now were fully aware that my first name wasn't Bob or billy or something) they still called me BD. Even Sophia did it plenty, though she always claimed the D stood for daddy now that she was my wife and with her womb heavy with the fruit of my seed.
"I just wanted to check in with you about something me and Sophia were talking about the other day. Kind of take your temperature on a certain subject."
She responded more quickly this time "Well, when the doctor takes my temperature he usually makes sure I get a lollipop afterwards" now with an emoji face that had a thermometer sticking out of its mouth.
I was already used to a certain amount of flirtatious double entendre from Cherie. Frankly I thought it was a coping mechanism or something. I mean, she'd been so proud to send her studious but dangerously curvy oldest daughter off to college and within a week the little vixen was barely spending a single night in her dorm room and soon after had a padlock tramp stamped above her behind with my real initials (not BD!) inscribed there. Whether Cherie liked it or not, me and my big dick had derailed all her expectations for her oldest daughter. This had meant she either had to take a stand against that (and run the risk of alienating Sophia and pushing her deeper into my clutches), or capitulate and accept that her daughter had gone from potential honor student to dick-addled slut.
She'd capitulated, never seemed to bat and eye that her daughter had dived unreservedly into being an older boy's sexual plaything and then broodmare, and it seemed to me like her flirting was a way of expressing that. Of waving the white flag of peace. Of accepting the hard reality of my hard cock's thorough plundering or her daughter's holes and transformation of her goals and (s)expectations.
I'd never strongly contemplated the possibility of seeing how far that capitulation extended--of whether she was willing to take things beyond the occasional flirtatious comment or glance. She definitely gave off signs that in any other context would have signaled strong sexual interest. Everything from her body language, to certain glances that passed between us, to her often flirty comments and texts.
But acting on those signals had always seemed complicated and a bit unnecessary since I already had the nubile younger version of her as my obedient sex slave and then wife. But now, it seemed like the ladies actually wanted things a little more complicated. Maybe it was time to make them take things more seriously therefore.
With that in mind I responded, "In health class I learned that there's a better place to stick my thermometer than someone's mouth." I was tempted to add in the peach emoji, but the implication seemed obvious enough that the little cartoon was likely overkill.
I figured the ball was in her court and I was curious to see how she sent it back over the net. The response was quick coming.
"Well if I'd paid more attention in that health class I probably wouldn't have had a little sophia-bun in my oven at sixteen." She added the laughing emoji, but this was followed by the peach!
"Gosh, if I'd have been around I'd have been happy to give you some hands on tutoring." I never usually took my rejoinders with her this far, and now I found myself getting a little excited. Sophia and I still sexted and flirted, but there was no suspense. She was mine and I was hers. The stakes were lower than when you traded sexy ripostes with a possible hook up. This was my mother-in-law, but at 35 by she was also a woman in her sexual prime, and, based on the three delectable daughters she'd birthed and was guiding out of adolescence, someone of undeniable sexual appetite. I mean if she'd been knocked up three times between 16 and 19 she definitely had more desire to get dicked down then any sense of self-preservation.
Her saucy side was on full display as she responded "Well, it would take someone special to teach this old bitch some new tricks now." Despite the devil emoji she affixed at the end I thought I detected an undercurrent of sadness or wistfulness in her text.
For all her sexual allure Cherie lacked a partner and had raised her girls alone. I knew she was estranged from her mother but that she visited her much older step father in the nursing home he'd resided in since a small stroke. Sophia said she sometimes went out on dates, but nothing ever seemed to click for her. Maybe the idea of three teenage daughters didn't make the package particularly attractive, I didn't know and couldn't say. To me, Cherie was a promise of what my Sophia would become as she matured, and the thought excited me. As did the idea of sampling a little of what that might be like a little early.
I hesitated now at the edge of a precipice.
"Are you gonna go for your power-walk after work?" Cherie's power walking was a little in family joke as only the younger girls Simone and Sylvia had breasts small enough to contemplate jogging. Cherie and my Sophia had the kind of trophy sized racks that no sports bra could really get under control enough to permit them to run without risking a very sore back the next day. But Cherie insisted on regular exercise and so daily power walks were part of her routine.
She took longer to respond this time. Maybe she was starting to take our exchange more seriously and was struggling with second thoughts. I waited.
