Chapter 1 - The Mother-in-Law and the Forbidden Desire
“This is it, Max! And this time, it’s for good!”
His girlfriend’s final words and the slam of the door still echoed in his head. Max floored the accelerator, sending gravel kicking up against the car’s fenders in a frantic rhythm. For a moment, he wished he could drive fast enough to escape not just his life, but himself.
When he finally pulled into the driveway of the remote cabin, the world went quiet. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp autumn earth. Max killed the engine and let the silence wash over him. A deep breath of the crisp forest air felt like it was cleansing his lungs of more than just city dust; it was clearing out the toxic anger that had driven him here.
The cabin belonged to his ex-girlfriend’s parents, but its upkeep had long since fallen to Max. It had become his sanctuary, a refuge from the endless drama at home.
First things first, a hot shower to wash away the day’s grime and irritation. With a towel slung low on his hips, he poured a generous measure of whiskey into a heavy-bottomed glass and downed it in one go. The burn spread through his chest—an immediate, restorative warmth.
And in its wake, something else surfaced. Lust. Their once raw, animalistic passion had withered into bitter accusations. But a thirty-year-old man’s libido doesn’t just disappear.
He poured a second glass. His gaze landed on a silver-framed photograph on the table.
Max picked it up. In it, his mother-in-law, Anna, smiled freely. The summer dress she wore clung to her generous curves, revealing just enough. Max didn’t just see a mother-in-law; he saw a confident, mature woman whose warmth and hidden power had always captivated him. Anna was fifty-eight, but she carried her age with a self-assurance that made the years irrelevant.
There had always been an easy, sometimes dangerously flirtatious, chemistry between them. Max had often let his thoughts wander, imagining what that sexy cougar would be like in bed—fully aware the thought was wrong, forbidden, and for that very reason, unbearably arousing.
Before, he had pushed those feelings aside. Now, his mind clouded by whiskey and rage, he didn’t care what was right.
Anna’s bedroom. Anna’s lingerie drawer.
The thought struck him like lightning. Reason buckled; desire won. Still wearing just the towel, he walked into her room and pulled open a drawer of the old dresser. A hint of black lace peeked out. He hooked his fingers around a pair of black panties made of nearly translucent fabric. The material was sinfully soft, a mere whisper against his rough fingertips.
With Anna’s panties in hand, a primal lust took hold. He spread the lace on the bed as if on an altar. The towel dropped to the floor. He gripped his already hard cock, a low groan escaping his lips as the fantasy took over. In his mind, he saw Anna, wearing these same panties, imagining how her mature, soft body would fill the delicate fabric…
He was so lost in his world that he didn’t hear the car approaching. Didn’t hear the front door open. Didn’t hear the footsteps in the hallway.
The only sound that pierced his concentration was the quiet creak of the bedroom door.
Max’s head snapped around. The world came to a screeching halt.
Standing in the doorway was Anna. Real, alive, holding a grocery bag.
The blood froze in his veins. The erection in his hand, once a tool of fantasy, was now a monument to his shame. His brain hammered as he fumbled to pull the towel back around his hips. There was only this raw, exposed moment, with no escape.
Anna stood motionless, her face a mask of bewildered disbelief. Her gaze traveled slowly from the panties on the bed, to his hand, then to the undeniable bulge beneath his towel. Finally, her eyes rose to meet his—not angry, not shocked, but searching.
“What on earth is happening here?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“A-Anna… I… I didn’t…” Max stammered, wrapping the towel tightly around himself.
He could see her processing the scene. After a torturous silence, she let the grocery bag drop to the floor with a soft thud.
“Be a dear and take that to the kitchen,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. “And pour us both a glass of wine.”
It was the last reaction he expected. Grateful for the excuse to escape, he could only manage a nod.
“O-of course.”
He bent down to grab the bag, avoiding her gaze like a hot iron, and brushed past her toward the kitchen. He didn’t dare look back, but he could feel her eyes on him. Then he heard the decisive click of the bedroom door closing.
A heavy, expectant silence descended.
In the kitchen, Max’s hands trembled as he uncorked a bottle of wine. He poured the deep red liquid into two glasses, bracing himself for the consequences he was about to face.
A light creak from the floorboards made him turn.
Anna stepped into the kitchen. She wore nothing but a silk robe, tied loosely at the waist, hinting at the same silhouette that had haunted his imagination for so long.
She sat at the table and nodded toward the glasses. “Good, I could use this.” Her voice was low, almost soft.
Max handed her a glass and sat opposite her, feeling like a defendant on trial.
Anna swirled the wine. “Now. Tell me what I just saw.” It wasn’t a request; it was a demand.
Max felt the heat rise in his face. He took a sip for courage and a deep breath. He had nothing left to lose. Sink or swim.
“I… I can’t explain it any better than what you saw. You’ve just… always been incredibly sexy to me, Anna.”
She raised her eyebrows, a flicker of genuine surprise in her eyes. “Sexy? At my age?”
Max didn’t back down. “Exactly. You have a confidence, a maturity, that younger women just don’t possess.”
For a moment, Anna just stared at him, her expression a mix of confusion and something else—curiosity, maybe even pride. She leaned back, ran a finger along the rim of her glass, and gave a slow, enigmatic smile.
“I never would have thought a man your age would look at me that way,” she said, her tone soft and playful. “But… I can’t deny it’s flattering.” She took a small sip. “And the panties?”
Embarrassment burned in him, but something in her tone made him want to be completely honest. “It’s a fetish of mine. I’ve always had a thing for them.”
Anna watched him in silence, as if weighing her next move. “Well,” she said finally, a clear, burning interest lighting up her eyes. “So, did you like what you found in my drawer?”
Max’s heart pounded. “More than I can say.”
Anna set her glass down and leaned forward, her robe parting just enough to reveal the curve of her breast. “You know, Max… maybe I should be furious. But maybe… I want to hear more about what goes on in that head of yours.”
His heart hammered against his ribs. The air grew thick with tension, a silent understanding passing between them that neither was ready to break.