They pulled up outside Elle's house in a taxi, he was in the passenger seat, Elle was in the back seat with Kath. Kath was passed out and had her head in her mother's lap.
Following his dance, with Elle, they had returned to the bar and found Kath downing shots of tequila with several of the bridesmaids. It hadn't taken long for her to start feeling the effects of the alcohol, and so the three of them had left the reception. He had to hold Kath up as she couldn't quite manage to stay upright on her own. Neither he nor Elle were in a fit state to drive, but luckily there was a taxi right outside the door, dropping off some late wedding guests. Their drive back was uneventful, although he had to confess that his mind was still on the flirtatious, downright sexy dance he had recently shared with Elle.
The got out of the cab, and he paid the fare in cash. Then he and Elle each took one of Kath's arms and carried her inside the house.
Once inside, he picked Kath up in his arms and lifted her up the stairs and into her bedroom. He placed her on the bed, took her shoes off, and since she was dead to the world, he left her in her clothes, covered her with the comforter and left a wastepaper basket by her side of the bed in case she couldn't keep her liquor down. Then, discarding his suit jacket, he headed downstairs to get some water. As he entered the kitchen he passed by the living room and looked inside. He saw Elle, who had changed out of her dress and was now clad in a pair of baggy, plaid pajama pants and an old college sweater She was lying on the couch, on her front, watching television.
He continued into the kitchen, his mind racing with thoughts of some very taboo things that he would like to do tonight if given the opportunity. He poured himself a glass of water and hurried upstairs to leave it on Kath's bedside table, and, having ensured that she was still passed out, he crept back down the stairs.
Elle hadn't moved from the couch. The television was showing the beginning of some movie that he didn't immediately recognize, and the sound was turned low. He cleared his throat, and said, "I don't suppose you have anything to drink around here do you?"
"Like what?" she asked, half turning her head towards him.
"A nightcap of some sort?"
"There's some of Kath's dad's bourbon in the pantry, I think. You're welcome to it."
He went to the pantry and retrieved the bourbon from the top shelf. It was Wild Turkey, and the bottle was only about half-full. He helped himself to a healthy shot and added two ice cubes to his glass. Then, his heart beating ever faster he returned to the living room.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked, indicating the end of the couch where her feet lay.
"Go right ahead, plenty of room. How's Kath feeling?"
"Fast asleep now. She'll be suffering tomorrow morning, though, that's for sure."
Elle raised her feet in the air, allowing him room to sit down. Once he was settled, he took a slow sip of the bourbon to steady his nerves. Then Elle relaxed her legs and all of a sudden he had his mother-in-law's bare feet resting in his lap.
"What are we watching?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level.
"Whatever's on," she replied.
Whatever's on turned out to be the film adaptation of "Fifty Shades of Grey". He smiled. Depending on what Elle did next he would feel a lot more sure of himself. The movie's opening credits concluded and, to his delight, Elle did not make any move to change the channel to something a little less inappropriate to be watching - while tipsy - with her daughter's husband. He pretended to watch the movie, but really he was just thinking of the slight pressure Elle was placing on his crotch with her right foot.
"Which do you prefer?" he asked. The movie had gotten to a point where the young female protagonist was now restrained and was about to have her backside spanked. The domineering male protagonist teased her with various implements, but she didn't appear to mind his indecision.
"What exactly do you mean?" Elle asked with a nervous giggle.
"Book or film?" he replied, coyly.
"Oh, the book of course. I much prefer to use my own imagination."
The movie was mildly erotic, he supposed. He hadn't ever read the book or seen the movie before, but the leads were plenty attractive, and, while the dialogue wasn't very realistic, it was just the kind of cable-television lite-eroticism that he hoped, when combined with his mother-in-law's drinking, would lead to some fun.
He decided to be bold. He drained the remainder of his bourbon in one swallow and set the glass down on the end table. He took one of Elle's bare feet in his hand and began to gently knead it. He felt her tense for a moment, and he almost dropped her foot and apologized, but Elle said nothing and she seemed to relax instead. He continued rubbing her foot. His cock was growing hard again, so, a few minutes later, he switched to massaging her other foot, and surreptitiously adjusted his cock through his pants to make himself more comfortable. The movement also had the added benefit of positioning his cock so that he was now gently rubbing it with the foot that he was massaging. Elle didn't appear to be bothered by it. This went on for a few more minutes, until he asked, "How's your knee tonight?"
Elle had had knee surgery about two years ago and regularly complained of pain. He presumed that tonight's dancing had aggravated it.
"It's a little sore actually," Elle said, her voice sounding a little slurred, and perhaps a little sleepy. He continued squeezing her foot with his left hand, while he slowly and deliberately took his right hand and moved her pajama pants leg up to her thigh, exposing her injured knee. He gingerly placed his hand on her leg and began to rub her knee, using small circular motions and light pressure.
"Does that feel okay?" he asked, as his breath quickened.
"Mmm, yes," she practically purred.
He carried on rubbing her foot (and his own crotch) with one hand while massaging her knee with the other for the next ten or fifteen minutes. The movie was beginning to grow on him too, his cock getting almost as hard as it had been while he was dancing with Elle earlier that night.
In direct correlation with how hard he had become, his own rational thoughts began to flee his mind. His heart beating rapidly, and his mouth feeling dry, he moved his right hand upwards, continuing the slow circular movements and light pressure. His hand was now well inside her pajama pants leg, and soon he was rubbing the back of her right thigh. He carried on, half expecting his mother-in-law to tell him to stop what he was doing, but also thinking that he couldn't stop now even if he wanted to. Slowly, but surely, his hand and his forearm were now in Elle's pants and he was firmly squeezing her right ass cheek. Elle still didn't say anything, but he could feel that she was starting to squirm a little, pressing herself down into the couch cushions.