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My Girlfriend's Neglected Mother: Part 1

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My Girlfriend's Neglected Mother: Part 1
Hot Mom, hot daughter, is anyone complaining?

Based on a post by MaryAnderson.

Listen to the Podcast at Steamy
Stories.




It's not often you meet a mother who's better looking than her

good-looking college-age daughter.

I remember the first time I saw them.

I'd moved to San Diego immediately after graduating from high

school. While I wouldn't begin my freshman year until September, I'd
found a decent job and I needed the money.

As a side benefit my employer provided membership at a fancy local

gym, one I couldn't have afforded. I was doing chest presses when a
class got out in an upstairs studio. About two dozen women and a
smattering of guys came down the stairs followed by several women
talking animatedly to a striking rail-thin brunette. Standing next to
her was a younger woman with the same color hair and same impressive
build. Both wore skin-hugging leotards identical in style, although
differing in color. As the knot of women moved across the room I
overheard enough of the conversation to understand the older woman
had been leading a pilates class.

After their entourage dispersed the two women lingered at the

front counter talking to the attendant when the younger one noticed
me checking them out. Busted, I gave her my best you-caught-me grin.
She smiled, said something to the older woman, who turned, held my
gaze for a beat, before returning her focus to her companions. A few
minutes later, they left.

After finishing with the weights I went to the front desk. The

older woman was Theresa Hollins; she taught several classes at the
gym. The younger one was her daughter Jennie, a high school senior.
The attendant made it clear I wasn't the first guy who'd asked about
them. I checked the schedule; Theresa would lead a steps class in a
couple of days.

Enrolling in class.

I was hanging downstairs when they came through the front door.

They certainly didn't mind being identified as mother and daughter,
they looked alike, styled their hair the same way, although Jennie's
was longer, and their leotards were differently colored variations of
each other. I introduced myself, Mrs. Hollins introduced herself and
her daughter, said she hoped I'd enjoy the class.

I soon found out that not only did they look alike, they shared

the optimistic up-beat positive personality associated with aerobics
instructors and were, as they appeared to be, in superb condition,
pushing everyone, encouraging everyone, leaving all but a few in the
dust.

After class, along with several others, I walked downstairs with

Theresa and Jennie, offered to treat them to bottles of water after
the crowd peeled away. Theresa declined, said she had an errand to
run, told her daughter she could swing by on the way home and pick
her up.

Jennie said sure, she could use a drink.

Two days later we shared a bed. Not too long after that, for the

first time in my life, I told a woman I loved her.

I'd never been one for classes at health clubs, preferring to

work-out with a buddies or on my own, but couldn't see how to stop
going without offending Mrs. Hollins and if it gave me an excuse to
watch my girlfriend and her hot mother covered in thin veneers of
sweat stretching and straining in skin-tight leotards, who'd say no
to that?

Dating Life.

We'd been seeing each other for about six weeks when, holding

Jennie in the spoon position - we'd just rocked each other's worlds
on my one-room apartment's undersized bed - she said, "You think
my mother's hot, don't you?"

There was no point in denying it. Jennie and her Mom surely knew

and neither seemed offended; Mrs. Hollins had been enthusiastic about
my dating her daughter from day one.

"Yeah, it's clear you come by some of your good looks

naturally."

"Some?"

"As hard as you and your Mom work-out, there's a lot of sweat

and dedication there."

Bringing my hand to her mouth she kissed it and said, "Nice

rescue," then, smiling indecipherably, looked over her shoulder.

I said, "What?"

"The guys I've known, they all think Mom's hot. Most look at

her furtively, sneakily, thinking they're slick, that we don't
notice, but we do. Then there's the guys who stare and drool, not
cool. There are a few, I don't know if they have more or less
control, who look away even when they should be looking at her, like
they don't know how to handle it. You're different. You don't take
creepy little looks, but when you have a reason to look you do and
don't seem to feel weird about it. Plus, you're the first one to
admit it."

I didn't say that, in addition to having a thing for hot younger

women like her, I had a thing for hot older women, that I'd bedded a
few back home. Instead, since it was clear that not only didn't it
bother her, but that she dug it, I said, "Yeah, I like looking
at your Mom. Why do you bring it up, interested in a threesome?"

Laughing she said, "What makes you think I do women, and why

are guys fascinated by threesomes, especially mothers and daughters?"

Making a mental note; she hadn't said no or gotten offended. I

said it must be some kind of biological or evolutionary imperative,
and avoided the first question by kissing her. She kissed me back,
reached for my dick.

Soon I was driving into her, shaking the flimsy bed, and she was

totally into it, writhing, moaning, clutching my back, digging her
fingers into me. Not that she wasn't always into it, but if I wasn't
missing something this time more than ever.

The conversation about her mother had turned her on.

The overture.

My phone rang, no name appeared. I thought about letting it roll

to voice mail, but there was something familiar about the number,
then I got it. It was one digit different from Jennie's.

"Hello."

"Hey Michael, it's Theresa. Jennie gave me your number, we

figured it'd be okay."

"I never complain about a beautiful woman with my phone

number. What can I do for you?"

After a moment's hesitation, but no objection, she said, "Jennie's

talked about you so much that her father wants to meet you. Can you
come to the house for drinks, then we'll go to dinner."

"Sounds fine, when?"

"Sunday at 7:00."

"I'm open, where are we going?"

"Morgan's."

I checked Morgan's on-line. Coat and tie? I didn't own a coat and

tie and my bank account was in no shape to buy them. While looking up
the local consignment shops I realized I didn't have Jennie's home
address; we'd always met in town. I considered texting Jennie, but
pleased by the tone of my conversation with Mrs. Hollins, called her
back.

"Hello Michael."

She'd saved my number to her phone's memory.

"Hey good looking, I just realized I don't have your

address."

After a pause she said, "What if I told my daughter you

called me 'good looking' and asked for my address?"

"Jennie and I are in complete agreement about her mother's

good looks. Is she there?"

"Yes, should I get her for you?"

"Only after a little more flirting."

"You are bad."

"I only get worse, now what's the address?"

"I'll text it to you, here's my daughter."

As she moved the phone from her mouth I heard, as she intended,

her say "Your very bad boyfriend is on the phone. Tell him he
needs a cold shower."

Double Date Night.

It was my first trip to the suburbs. After checking in with the

rent-a-cop at the subdivision's front gate I drove my jalopy down
shaded streets, waiting to get pulled over. It looked like only shiny
new Mercedes, BMWs, Cadillacs, and Lexus, with an occasional Porche
or Maserati, were legal in this neighborhood.

My phone led me to a circular driveway at the end of a cul de sac.

Nice house. I parked behind a black Range Rover, got out, rang the
bell, wondered about Jennie's father. Jennie talked about her Mom all
the time - they were more best friends than parent and child - but
rarely mentioned her father. When she did it was positive, but bland,
a vague assurance that he was "okay." Still, I'd imagined
him as a bookend for his wife and daughter: tip-top condition,
good-looking, smart and incisive.

Jennie opened the door, kissed my lips, said, "Hey lover,

ready to meet the family."

She looked great. Her loose fitting dress, held on by spaghetti

straps, dipped down her chest, stopping just short of her cleavage,
clinched at the waist, then hung to the floor in a series of graceful
folds. What was most striking, however, was the cascade of colors,
oranges and yellows, greens and blues, imposed on patterns of
butterfly wings.

I said, "That's a lovely dress," she slipped her hand

into mine, and turning, the bottom of the dress swirling about, we
headed into the house.

In the living room, large, cathedral ceiling, gorgeous furniture,

ceiling to floor back window overlooking a swimming pool, was Mrs.
Hollins, her dress also long, open shouldered, loose-fitting and a
rainbow of colors: chartreuse, pink, magenta.

And while neither dress was overtly sexual, this particular mother

and daughter presenting themselves in public dressed alike was. And,
as meticulous as they were about their appearance, that was no
accident. I said, "Mrs. Hollins, you're stunning, your dress,
like your daughter's, is beautiful, love the colors."

Mrs. Hollins said, "Thank you," adding as a man entered

the room, "Michael, this is my husband, Tom. Tom, this is
Michael, Jennie's beau."

Contrary to my expectations he did not match his wife and

daughter. He was his wife's height, or possibly a bit shorter, at the
moment her heels gave her an inch or so on him, and if not fat, was
pudgy. Saying, "It's good to finally meet you sir," I
reached for his hand and studied his face. His features were affable,
not those of your best friend - him you'd want smart and tough,
someone who had your back - but friendly, the face of a guy who got
along with everyone, liked everyone, a you wouldn't ask to cut
another $250.00 off the price of a car because you wanted him to come
out okay and knew he'd never rip you off.

And that's what he did. He sold cars, owned a dozen dealerships.

Not top-of-the-line stuff, he wasn't selling cars to his neighbors,
but he was selling lots of cars to someone.

Over dinner my impression was confirmed. Mr. Hollins did not have

his wife's or daughter's cynical intelligence, which they masked with
their positive up-beat personalities. He was what he appeared to be,
a good guy, a roll with the punches guy, a laugh at your jokes no
matter how bad they are guy, a not notice if you got a little
inappropriate guy.

I got a little inappropriate.

I focused on his wife and daughter, made eye contact, held it.

They responded, their eyes on mine.

I touched them, starting with a shoulder, a forearm, moved to the

waist, cleaned a speck of food off their face.

When a lady had to go to the bathroom I held her chair, did the

same on her return, was rewarded with a kiss.

I told mother and daughter how good they looked. Openly relishing

the compliment, they thanked me.

The women responded, a flip of the hair, a tongue gliding on a

lip, moved a little closer.

And through it all Mr. Hollins seemed fine, happy to have me

entertain the ladies.

Back at the house Mr. Hollins excused himself to go to the

facilities and Jennie said, "Mom, I know its late, but there's a
party on campus I want to go to. I know it's late, but can I go back
out? Michael will take good care of me."

This was the first I'd heard of a party.

Mrs. Hollins said, "Honey you didn't mention a party. Where

is it?"

"I don't remember, one of the frats," she looked at me,

"which frat babe?"

I said, unconvincingly,"Delta something."

Mrs. Hollins said, "Delta something?"

She knew what was going on.

"Yeah, Delta something, those Greek names run into each

other."

She turned to her daughter. "A frat party and it's already

approaching curfew, what will your father think?"

"C'mon Mom, if you say it's okay he will too."

Turning back to me Mrs. Hollins said, "You promise to take

good care of her?"

"The best I can, I promise no frat boy will get near her."

"Of that I'm sure. Well, if you're going to date a college

guy I guess we need to make allowances. If it gets too late, if you
need to spend the night with a friend in town, text me."

Mr. Hollins returned, permission was sought and received. At the

front door I thanked Mr. Hollins for dinner, leaned in to kiss his
wife good night, who held my arm and whispered in my ear, "You
better be using protection bub."

Stepping back I said, "Thank you Mrs. Hollins and, of

course."

Reviews.

Driving back to my place Jennie said, "So what did you think

of Dad?"

"I was a bit surprised. I'd figured him to be in primo shape,

like you and your Mom."

"Dad's let himself go. He's in a dozen civic groups, always

going to meetings, eating bad food, never has time to exercise. He
says it's good for business.

"Well, you can't argue with his success, the house is

beautiful. He seemed like a real nice guy."

"He is, and you took advantage, flirting with me and Mom in

front of him."

There was no anger in her voice. Then her bra was laid on my

shoulder. She'd worked it off under her dress.

"Two beautiful women; it's hard to resist being a little bad.

Your Dad didn't seem bothered by it."

"No, peripatetic Mom and I wear him out. He's glad when

someone else entertains us."

She dropped her panties in my lap and said, "Remember, we'll

need to text Mom and let her know I crashed with a friend."

Bachelor Pad.

In my apartment it didn't take long for Jennie, already sans

panties and bra, to get naked; it took me longer, but not much. I
slipped a finger, then two, inside her wet sex.

"God you're hot."

She ran her fingers the length of my penis, squeezed, said, "Hard

not to be when your boyfriend has this kind of dick, nice and hard."

"After tonight, how couldn't it be"

"Yeah, you loved it, hanging, flirting with two women, you

were shameless."

I twisted my fingers inside her, kissed her, said, "Me? You

guys were asking for it, hot mom, hot daughter wearing basically the
same fricking dress. That wasn't clothing, it was foreplay."

Smearing my pre-cum into the head of my dick she, adopting a tone

of pouting faux-innocence, said, "Honey, those dresses were
classy, long and loose. The sex was in your head."

"You make everything hot."

"And my mother?"

"Yep, must be genetic."

Twisting her hand on my tool she said, "Really, if she asked

real nice, would you fuck her? I can hear it now: 'Fuck me Michael,
Jennie and Tom are gone. Give me some hard dick, I need it so bad. My
husband doesn't fuck me anymore and you're so much bigger than him
and from the happy look on my daughter's face when she gets home from
a date, you know how to use it."

I said, "I don't know Mrs. Hollins, I've never cheated on

Jennie."

Rolling onto all fours, she spread her legs, exposing her

glistening sex, looked over her shoulder and said, "Don't worry,
my daughter won't mind. I know that horny minx, it'll make her
hotter. I'm an MILF who needs cock, fuck me hard, like you fuck my
daughter."

Saying, "Well if it's going to make Jennie happy, who am I to

argue," I got on my knees and held her by the waist. Jennie
reached back, placed my dick on her sex, said, "Let me,"
and in a long slow motion, pushed into me, sighing happily as her
pussy spread, yielded, molded itself to my me. Dropping her head to
her forearms she said, "This is what I need, a young man's thick
cock," arched her back, raised her head, and said, "Fuck
me, fuck Jennie's mommy, fuck her hard."

I pulled out until only the cock-head was inside her, paused,

drove into her, shaking the flimsy bed. As I did she pushed into me,
rotated her ass, clenched her sex muscles, said, "I see the way
you young men look at me, it makes my pussy so wet."

We fucked, my squeaking bed rocking back and forth, the sound

reverberating off the walls of my tiny room.

"Have you thought about it stud, a threesome, fucking me and

Jennie at the same time?"

"Two hot mouths on my cock, filling two woman with my dick,

drenching them with my cum, hell yes."

"That's it, that's it Michael, imagine it, imagine you're

fucking Mama while I watch, my finger in my sex."

I imagined it and my cock, stiff and hard, the piston of a race

car, reamed her. Words deserted us, replaced by wheezes and moans and
shouts and hollers, but the image in both minds was the same: I
boning Mrs. Hollins under her daughter's licentious approving gaze.
Mesmerized by this perverted shared fantasy Jennie balanced herself
on one arm and reached for her clit; I moved my hands to her tits,
twisted the small hard nipples. We fucked, we howled, an animal sound
that the neighbors may hopefully someday forgive me for. When my
balls tightened, pulled into my body, I moved my hands to her waist,
held her tight and exploded, flooding her with the load of cum that
had been fermenting in my balls all evening. And, as I drenched her
most private parts, Jennie joined me with furious yelps of orgasmic
delight.

Morning Coffee.

I was making coffee the next morning on my Technivorm Moccamaster

drip coffee-maker. A gift from Jennie, it was the most expensive
thing in my apartment. She said she could tolerate my room, if I kept
it clean; but insisted on good coffee. She rolled over, reached for
me, found I wasn't there, then, smelling the coffee, lifted her head
and said, "Hey lover, got a cup for me?"

I handed it to her, got into bed, and sitting up, our bodies

pressed together, she tasted the brew.

"It's good, you're not scrimping on beans anymore."

"I've learned what matters, you."

She took another sip and said, "Speaking of which, you forgot

to remind me to text Mom last night to let her know I was staying
with friends."

"You were passed out. It seemed a shame to wake you, so I did

it myself."

She picked up her phone, read my message, and, nodding

approvingly, said, "Good looking, great in bed, thoughtful,
treats my family right, I'm a lucky girl."

"Almost as lucky as me. I love you babe."

Smiling she said, "You're sure you're not just in love with

last night."

I said, "Yeah, I'm sure. Whose idea was it to dress alike,

every guy in the place had their eyes on you two."

"Both of ours. Not that she'll admit it, but Mom loves

attention, loves it when you young guys fixate on her at the gym.
Dad's got medical issues and when he lost the ability to perform it's
like he started seeing Mom as a guy, treating her more like a friend
than a wife. Mom loves Dad, but she misses the sex and the attention
that goes with it.

"She knows she needn't go without, she could have an affair;

with her looks and personality guys would line up. Even Dad's doctor
- the pig - has hit on her, but she loves Dad and doesn't want to
embarrass him. In their social circle word would get out."

She looked away temporarily, lost in thought. I put my arm around

the shoulder, kissed the side of her head, and afer a moment Jennie
resumed. "She kept all this bottled up inside her for the
longest time, but when I became sexually active, and especially since
I started seeing you, she's talked to me about it, gets pretty
explicit. At first I was surprised by how far she went, but I
realized she's living vicariously and she digs talking about sex. I
think she might have a little crush on you."

"Does that bother you?"

"Nah."

That was a casual answer; I pushed.

"You dig it, don't you?"

"Can't say I'm displeased. A high school girl doesn't mind

having a college guy she can show off, or a guy her mother likes. It
makes things easier."

I said, "So this threesome thing last night, are we talking

about fantasy or something you're interested in?"

Coyly: "We'll see, how about you?

Equally evasive: "You know me, anything to please the

ladies."

Regular Social Circle.

It became a regular gig, once a week at the Hollins, parents

sizing up the future son-in-law, we were that serious. We'd cook-out,
Mr. Hollins, immaculate in slacks, a button-down shirt, and loafers,
manning the grill while I played in the pool, fooling around with
Jennie and Mrs. Hollins in their skimpy and complementary (if not
matching) swimsuits. Sometimes we'd go out for dinner and Jennie and
Mrs. Hollins would show off their toned bodies in clothes selected
for just that purpose. Or maybe we'd sit in front of the telly, catch
a movie or a game.

Campus Event.

On a Friday afternoon Jennie and I rendezvoused on campus,

listened to some bands, Jennie texted her mother, let her know all
was okay, we went to my place, fucked like bunnies.

The next morning, after coffee, we did it again. Then Jennie's

phone rang.

"Hey Mom. What did you tell Dad?"

"I told him you'd gone out with Michael, had something to

drink, called and asked if you could stay at a friend's, I said it
was okay."

"Thanks Mom."

"You're welcome dear. Your Dad likes Michael, but there are

things he'd prefer not knowing. I'm coming into town for lunch and a
little shopping. We both need something for the Yacht Club Christmas
Party. Why don't you and your young man join me."

She looked at me with expectant eyes. While shopping with the

ladies is not my cup of tea, I didn't see a way out of it - Jennie
knew my schedule was wide open. I gave her the thumbs up.

"Sounds great Mom."

"Great, do you need a change of clothes?"

"No, I packed leggings and a tee-shirt."

"How about Madison's? Can't beat the salads. Noon? What color

leggings?"

Jennie, who was fondling my dick, said, "Black, and let's

make it 1:00."

Lunch.

Mrs. Hollins was at the restaurant; Jennie leaned over, kissed her

cheek, said, "Love the outfit."

Wearing clothes almost identical to her daughter's, Mrs. Hollins

laughed and said, "Yeah, once you said leggings and a tee-shirt
it seemed right. What do you think Michael?"

"If you've got it, flaunt it, and you two got it."



After eating, the salads were great, it was off to Macy's. The

ladies looked at the merchandise while I looked at the ladies and
happy eyes of the men happily following this hot, similarly attired,
mother and daughter through the store. Mrs. Hollins and Jennie tried
on several outfits, some sexier than others, all sexier than most,
preened, playfully competed for my attention. The sales clerk, a
striking short-haired black woman, was enjoying herself and pushed
the edge of the envelope, urging the women to try on something a wee
bit hotter, tighter, more revealing. After an hour the three of them
came out of a dressing room, announced they had a winner, and sent me
to the men's section for a new shirt, they noted mine was frayed.
While they rang up what they said would be a surprise.

Yacht Club.

The night of the Yacht Club Christmas Party, wearing my best suit

(okay, my only suit), I drove my battered car through Jennie's
neighborhood, parked, and was met at the door by Mr. Hollins. His
tailored suit was beautiful; his cuff-links had a greater net worth
than I did.

Conscious of the comparison I glanced at the mirror and was

pleasantly surprised. It might be a second hand suit, but on my trim
athletic form it looked good. I didn't feel quite so out of place.

In the living room Mr. Hollins handed me a scotch, then his eyes

fixed on something over my shoulder. I turned, expected to see
something great, saw something better. Posing on the wide staircase
Jennie and Mrs. Hollins stepped forward in their long black dresses,
sliding stockinged legs through long slits. Both sported high
open-toed heels, Mrs. Hollins' a bit higher. On the other hand,
Jennie's neckline scooped a bit lower, hinting at her cleavage. Both
wore their hair up, displaying to good effect lovely necklaces,
Jennie's turquoise and Mrs. Hollins' diamond, and dangling earrings.
They were classy; they were appropriate; they were a walking wet
dream.

I said, "My god, do you two look good."

Mr. Hollins, more practical, said, "It's a little chilly, you

might want to bring a wrap."

I said, "My god you look good," kissed both women's

cheeks, offered to get their wraps.



The band started. I asked Jennie to dance. She said she needed to

let her food digest, suggested her mother. I looked to Mr. Hollins,
he nodded his agreement.

Mrs. Hollins moved with grace and style and I, holding her close,

thoroughly enjoying dancing with this total fox, said, "Dancing
with you and Jennie all night, I'll be the envy of every man here."

"So, is that what you're doing, showing off in front of the

crowd?"

Saying, "Absolutely," I held her tighter and added,

"Like this."

Cupping the back of my arm with her hand she moved further into me

and said, "How about this?"

Pulling her a bit closer I said, "Now we're getting there."

"Michael, are you flirting with your girlfriend's mother?"

"Mrs. Hollins, in front of all these people, in front of your

daughter, in front of your husband, what kind of guy do you think I
am? I've just heard that when you're courting a young woman you need
to win over her mother. So I'm trying real hard, ready to do whatever
it takes to make you happy, for Jennie's sake."

"That's noble of you. And what does my daughter say?"

"She told me to look after all your needs, pay you close

attention, says you're the key to making sure I'm accepted by the
family."

"Well, that's good advice and so far you're doing fine, but

you don't want to stop, you want to keep at it, be relentless."

The music wound down and, her hand in mine, we returned to the

table where Jennie stood and said, "You two looked great out
there, kinda sexy even."

I said, "As graceful and beautiful as your mother is, as good

as she looks in that dress, you'd have to work real hard not to be
kinda sexy."

Mrs. Hollins laughed and said, "You're a young man, to you

everything's sexy. Now dance with my daughter."

Saying, "Don't let him escape Mom," Jennie returned to

the table to say something to her father.

As I leaned into Mrs. Hollins to kiss her cheek she brushed my

erection with her leg and said, "Now rub that thing on my
daughter for awhile."

The Captain.

Wearing a white captain's shirt and hat, Mr. Hollins steered the

yacht out of the harbor. I was sitting on the deck talking to Jennie
and Mrs. Hollins, whose lissome bodies were adorned by tiny bikinis
emblazoned with the American flag. When we moved into open water Mr.
Hollins asked me to join him at the helm, said he'd show me how to
operate the ship.

Mrs. Hollins said, "Jennie and I are going to lay in the

sun," and climbed onto the bow, where they laid out towels, and
casually, as if they'd done it a hundred times before, stripped
naked, applied lotion to themselves and each other's backs, lay down.

I glanced at Mr. Hollins; his attention on the boat, not the naked

hotties lying on it. You had to admire his focus.

I watched other boats sail by, no one tried to hide their

binoculars.

I'd been steering for about forty-five minutes when Mrs. Hollins

lifted her head and shouted, "Dear, would you bring me some
water, it's hot down here."

A look flashed across Mr. Hollins' face, one that said he was the

captain, far too busy for such frivolity.

This was an opportunity not to let get away.

"Sir, I'm happy to get it for them, why don't you take over."

"That's kind of you Michael."

I said, "As good as you all have been to me, it's the least I

can do," then yelled to Mrs. Hollins, "I'll be there in a
second."

Going Down.

I was opening the refrigerator when I heard a familiar voice.

"Enjoying the show, stud?'

My naked girlfriend, holding a towel, pressed her hand to my

chest, kissed me, and I said, "I didn't get the rule book, it's
okay for you and your Mom to strip in front of me if we're on a
boat?"

"Yep, not sure why lying naked in public is acceptable if

you're on a yacht, but it is. Maybe it's a special rule for the rich.
I think it's half the reason Mom's goes on these trips, she can let
that body she works so hard on, be openly ogled. And you've been
doing your part."

"Happy to contribute, but I was trying not to be too obvious.

After all, I'm up there with your Dad."

With her hand rubbing my penis through my shorts, she said,

"You're okay, barely. As to Dad, we've talked about that, he
doesn't notice. Sometimes I think he'd wouldn't mind if someone else
took over the physical requirements of his marriage."

She pushed my swim trunks down over my erection, wrapped her

fingers on my cock, and squeezed. A bead of pre-cum oozed from the
tip and ran down the barrel. She knelt, directed me to sit, licked up
the shaft, retracing the pre-cum's path, then said, "You know,
when you're on the water it's important to keep your skin
moisturized."

She licked the crown with the flat of her tongue. Then tilting her

head, she wrapped her mouth on my shaft from the side, moved up and
down, coating it with spittle, then smacked her lips in delight,
stretched her jaw, and swallowed half my length.

The display on the bow having set my pilot light on high and the

roar of the boat's engine providing ample cover, I made no effort to
hide my appreciation, "Oh yeah Jennie, so good, so good, suck
me, yeah."

Then Jennie stopped, She let me slide from her mouth, licked her

lips, and said, "Hey stud, there's no need to bullshit me,
you've gotten this hard-on staring at my mother's naked body, you're
imagining it's her sucking your cock."

What she said wasn't true, Jennie's naked body always made an

erection inevitable, but this did not seem the time to quibble. I
thrust my rocket into her face, said, "Suck me Mrs. Hollins,"
and Jennie did: in my mind's eyes it was soon Mrs. Hollins' mouth,
hand, and tongue on my cock.

"That's it, that's it, that's it Mrs. Hollins, I'm getting

close, coddle my balls, that's it, that's it, that's it. Suck my dick
Mrs. Hollins, fuck yes, so good."

Stabbing her head the length of my cock, she ended each thrust

with a gag, "GWAC, GWAC, GWAC, GWAC, GWAC."

Slumping on the bench, the vibration of the boat merged with the

sensation of Jennie's mouth. My breaths grew short and hard, my jaw
locked, my gut clenched, and I started babbling, "Yes, yes, yes,
oh fuck yes, suck me, Mrs. Hollins. Suck me, I'm there, there, there,
fucking yes, I'm... frigging... coming!"

I filled Mrs. Hollins, I mean Jennie's mouth, with warm blasts of

thick creamy goo. Continuing to work me with lips and tongue, she let
the first wad glide down her throat, then held the next two pulses in
her mouth, slid me between her lips and with a wicked slurp, opened
her mouth, showing me the pool of cum flowing over her tongue, and
finally swallowed in a slow deliberate consumption.

Then she cocked her head, concentrated for a second, and said,

"We're turning around, heading back to land. I better get that
water to Mom, they're going to wonder what happened to us. You owe me
one, stud."

"Sure do."

As Jennie handed her mother a bottle of water, Mrs. Hollins kissed

her daughter in appreciation, they each took a long sip, and talked.
The conversation was inaudible to anyone else, over the roar of the
boat.



"Your boyfriend tastes good?"

"Sure does, enjoy the show?"

"That I did. You think he's the one?"

"Yeah. What do you think, Mom?

"I've been thinking it from day one."

"Me too. Is Dad suspicious?"

"No, although you two might want to be a little more careful.

As long as you were gone, it was clear you weren't fetching water. If
your father had been paying attention..."

"But he wasn't Mom, although you were."

"Well, a girl's gotta get her kicks. You give great head."

Then, raising herself on her forearms, exposing her body and

breasts, Mrs. Hollins scanned the horizon and said, "We'll be in
sight of land soon, let's catch a few more rays. Give me the lotion,
I'll do your back, then you can do mine. Your boyfriend will enjoy
the show."



As we approached the harbor Mr. Hollins tooted the horn and Jennie

and her mother sat up, casually finished their water, turned squarely
in my direction and, showing all the goods, then put their bikinis
on.

To be continued. Based on a post by MaryAnderson,

for Literotica.

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