The Mother-in-Law's Secret Service
"'Sister-in-law'? You really have no filter when talking to your mother-in-law."
"But didn't you promise me yesterday?"
"When on earth did I make such a promise..."
"You said that if I went and proposed to Monica, you would grant me any request."
I shook the empty ring case as I spoke.
"I said I would consider it. When did I ever say I would grant you anything unconditionally..."
Vera, true to her kind-hearted nature, was the type who found it difficult to refuse others. She tried to dodge the issue by saying she would consider it, but in practice, that was no different from giving her consent. Furthermore, especially in a situation where Monica was at fault—even if she wasn't the one standing here—Vera found it even harder to say no.
"And the favor you asked for, Edward, was for me to help you when you were in a difficult spot. If you keep adding conditions like that, it puts me in a difficult spot too..."
"I am not adding conditions. I am, in fact, in a difficult spot right now."
"Pardon?"
"I was slapped by Monica. I can't even walk around with a face like this. The emotional trauma is quite severe."
"That is..."
I knew I was being completely unreasonable, but to change my relationship with Vera, I had no choice. If I continued to treat her with the same polite, distant respect as before, I would only ever get to taste the relationship of a mother-in-law and son-in-law once more.
"Hoo... alright, Sir Edward."
Vera let out a sigh and declared that she would accept my request.
"Vera, my dear sister..."
While still seated, I wrapped my arms around her waist. My face naturally buried itself into her ample bosom. I could feel the buttons pressed against my head screaming in agony under the pressure.
"If you do that, you'll smudge all the makeup I put on my cheeks, Sir Edward."
"Please, call me Ed, Vera."
"Ed, you really shouldn't do this in front of others, okay?"
Even as she lightly scolded me, she held my head tightly against her chest. To be held like a child in Vera's arms—this was a posture I never could have imagined with the light, formal hugs we shared before my regression. Only two days since I returned, and so much had already changed.
Vera's sweet, natural scent filled my nostrils. Ah, I was already hard. My body, returned to the age of twenty-five, was far more vigorous than the forty-year-old body in my memories. My strength seemed greater, my vision sharper, and my libido was rampant. With a body boiling over with such desire, having inhaled the scent of an attractive woman deep into my lungs, I would have to be a eunuch not to get an erection.
"Vera... I'm in trouble again."
"What? What is it this time?"
I stood up from the chair and pressed my crotch firmly against her stomach. Her soft lower abdomen and my rigid cock met, separated only by a few layers of fabric.
"I think I'm in trouble because my sexual desire has built up too much."
Vera tried to pull away in a panic, but she couldn't escape my grasp while I held her in this embrace. Feeling the throbbing of my fully aroused member, she spoke.
"Shouldn't you take care of that by yourself, or... perhaps ask Monica?"
"We haven't even held the wedding ceremony yet, so how could I make such a request?"
"I, I heard that men can take care of it themselves."
"That won't do. A grown man jerking off by himself? I'd die of embarrassment. I won't make any unreasonable demands."
I rubbed my crotch, which was still pressed against her while I lay back, and whispered.
"I won't ask you to show me your genitals, nor will I ask for penetration. You just need to help me with your hands."
I couldn't see Vera's face as it was buried in my chest, but the ear visible to the side had turned as red as if it had been painted.
When I kept holding her tightly until she answered, a voice of consent finally flowed from her lips.
"Alright, I'll do it... but only with your hands, okay?"
"I'll... I'll help you finish with my hands..."
She made me sit on the edge of the bed and sat between my legs. The thought that I was entrusting my most precious and vulnerable vital spot to my mother-in-law made me feel dizzy. Though, with Vera's grip strength, I doubted she could even bend my throbbing cock.
"Please, give me a handjob."
"...I'll stroke it for you."
"A handjob."
Vera silently gripped my cock with her gloved hands. The way she held it looked exactly like she was grabbing a baseball bat. Since she just stood there holding it, I gave her a new order.
"Wait, wait. If you do it like that, you'll chafe the skin, sister."
"Hmm?"
"I mean I need something to apply to it. It would be better if you used some saliva."
A look of embarrassment appeared in Vera's eyes. Was it because it was impossible to perform the act of spitting with grace? After struggling and agonizing over it, Vera finally cupped her hands together and gathered saliva out of my sight. The gloves, which surely had never touched anything unclean, now accepted both my cock and Vera's saliva.
"Then, I'll begin now..."
With her two hands coated in saliva, Vera gripped my cock tightly and whispered something softly. What could it be? An apology to Monica? Immediately after, she squeezed her eyes shut and began to move her hands rapidly.
It felt as if my cock were trapped between soft gloves, like holding a long rod. Swish, swish. Perhaps thanks to the abundance of saliva, every time her hands moved smoothly, a lewd, squelching sound echoed through the room. Hearing that sound, Vera's face turned even redder as she shook her hands diligently.
Her large breasts swayed in rhythm with the movement. She seemed to be maintaining a very fast pace, as if trying to finish as quickly as possible. Being on the receiving end of this handjob, I realized anew just what an outrageous thing I was doing. My mother-in-law, with a flushed face, was working hard to give her son-in-law a handjob. Having returned to a past I couldn't choose, I was now being serviced by my mother-in-law.
Her grip was weaker than mine, but the fact that her soft, small hands were moving against my will provided an even greater psychological thrill. The thought that this was a mother satisfying her son's lust instead of a daughter made me feel incredibly aroused.
"My arms hurt..."
Vera complained of muscle pain from the intense arm exercise she wasn't used to. I still had a way to go before I could climax. It couldn't be helped.
"I'll help you."
I placed my hands over Vera's small ones. There was still saliva left between the gloves and my cock. I began to move her hands quickly and forcefully, as if they were my own masturbation tool. Vera left her arms to me and stared blankly at my cock. In her gaze, fixed on my member, I could detect a strangely aroused look. Her eyes were different from usual. Seeing Vera's instincts, which couldn't stay suppressed and had spilled out, brought a wave of ejaculation.
"Ah, sister. I'm going to cum."
"Hmm? Oh, oh?? What, what do I do?"
"Don't spill it, catch it all with your hands. I don't think one hand will be enough."
I cupped Vera's hands together and held them like a dish right in front of my glans. I used my own hand to stroke my cock.
"Cum, you can cum."
Hnn, splat, splurt. Perhaps because it was my first ejaculation since the regression, a massive amount of semen poured out. Vera's tiny hands were so covered in the white, sticky fluid that they were barely visible, and the excess semen spilled over onto Vera's clothes and face.
"I'm sorry, sister."
"...Do you feel refreshed now?"
With a look of utter distaste, Vera hurriedly pulled off her gloves. She grabbed a handkerchief from the table nearby and began to wipe her face and hair. That handkerchief would likely be thrown away today. Vera looked at the semen-covered handkerchief with a tearful expression even after wiping only her hair and face, and then she began to undress.
"You mustn't look this way."
"Yes."
But I couldn't just turn my head away obediently. Taking advantage of the moment Vera turned her back, I stole a glance at her undressing. Perhaps because it was a one-piece dress, once she removed it, Vera was left in only her underwear, stockings, and a garter belt to hold them up.
'A garter belt?'
Seeing the garter belt, I felt my cock, which had just discharged its load, stand tall once again. I couldn't resist a garter belt. Even before the regression, it was something Monica used to stimulate me when I was feeling limp. Aside from the fact that Monica was a foul-tempered bitch, her body was arousing, so I would get an erection regardless of my will. But Vera's garter belt attire was even more obscene than that.
The black line crossing vertically over her smooth thighs. As if to emphasize that softness, the garter belt dug slightly into her flesh. In contrast to the smooth stockings below, the bra paired with the lewd, ornate panties. At this point, it was hard to tell if what the garter belt was holding up was the stockings or a man's trousers.
"Sister!"
"I, I told you not to look this way!"
Unable to resist that lewd back view, I hugged Vera from behind. Unlike when I hugged her over her clothes, the warmth and her natural scent felt magnified. I buried my nose into the nape of her neck and inhaled deeply.
"It tickles, you mustn't do this!"
The sexual desire I thought had been satisfied by cumming was, in fact, just the lid being opened. Once again, I inserted my stiff, aroused cock between Vera's thighs.