Husband Away, Father-in-Law Stays - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

"I found it." Richard suddenly lurched forward, smacking his forehead against the table hard enough to make me jump.
Rubbing the reddening spot, he straightened with a wince. "Victoria, I'm not feeling well. Think I'll turn in early."
He stood too quickly, and as he turned away, I couldn't miss how the strained fabric of his dress pants had grown even tighter.
Heat flooded me all over again. My traitorous eyes fixated on that forbidden outline, my mind racing with images of what his tailored slacks concealed. Between my thighs, the chair cushion grew damp beneath me.
I bolted to my room. Even after stripping off my robe, the feverish ache didn't fade—if anything, it worsened, my core pulsing with need.
After dabbing myself with tissues, I yanked on pajamas, desperate for an ice-cold shower.
Past ten o'clock. Surely Richard—exhausted from his trip—would be asleep by now. But as I neared the bathroom, a sliver of light spilled through the cracked door, accompanied by ragged, guttural breaths.
My heart hammered. Some primal instinct dragged me closer until, against all reason, I peeked inside.
There he stood, naked below the waist, my lace panties wrapped around his thick cock as he stroked himself. Those powerful thighs framed his monstrous length—thicker than Ethan's, as wide as a cucumber, veins bulging obscenely under flushed skin.
A gasp lodged in my throat as my core clenched. He was my father-in-law, but my body didn't care.
Reason shattered. I edged closer, bracing against the wall—then froze.
Richard held his phone, the screen displaying a photo taken earlier under the table: my bare thighs, exposed.
His fist moved faster as he stared at the image, hips jerking like he was driving into me.
I trembled, fingers slipping between my own slick folds.
A rough groan tore from him. My eyes snapped up just as thick ropes of cum erupted over his hand, drenching my lace.
Panting, he stepped toward the door.
I stood paralyzed—shame and hunger warring inside me. The perfect daughter-in-law, the rule-follower, now reduced to this. If anyone knew... Yet my skin burned for his touch.
Another glance at the mess he'd made, and I felt my own wetness trickle down my thigh.
But I still had pride. I couldn't.
Footsteps approached. I whirled away, fleeing to my room where I buried myself under blankets. All night, the memory of his size tormented me, stealing sleep.
At dawn, I scrambled through breakfast, scribbled Richard a note, and bolted for work—determined to avoid him.
The subway was a sweaty crush of rush-hour bodies. Exhausted from my sleepless night, I swayed like a zombie until a sudden brake nearly sent me flying. I barely caught the rail in time.
The jolt wrinkled my blazer, popping a button on my white blouse. My black bra and cleavage spilled free. As I frantically covered myself, my skirt rode up, baring the curve of my thigh.
I reached to tug it down—when a rough hand grabbed my ass, squeezing hard.