My Girlfriend's Neglected Mother

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

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

* * * * *

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.

* * * * *

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."

* * * * *

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.

* * * * *

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."

* * * * *

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."

* * * * *

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 with your Dad."

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 over my erection, wrapped her fingers on my it, 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, "Y'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 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, 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 dick 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 dick.

"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 dick she ended each thrust with a gag, "GWAC, GWAC, GWAC, GWAC, GWAC."

Slumping on the bench, the vibration of the boat merging 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...," and 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, swallowed.

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 hand her mother a bottle of water, Mrs. Hollins kissed her daughter in appreciation, they each took a long sip, talked, the conversation inaudible 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?"

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

"Me too. 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, put their bikinis on.

* * * * *

A few days later I was at the Hollins' house when Jennie's phone pinged. She opened the message, read it, read it again, pumped her fist and said, "Yes! Whitman scheduled me for an interview, but crap, it's next Friday. Mom, that's your birthday."

Whitman was Jennie's dream college, the one she had no chance of getting into. Still, the assistant director of admissions had been a fraternity brother of Mr. Hollins, not one Mr. Hollins had been close to, but perhaps, maybe. Mr. Hollins was to go with Jennie to the interview, see if he could influence the decision.

Mrs. Hollins said, "Honey, when you're in you late thirties your birthday is not that big a deal and, in any case, we weren't planning to do anything as a family until Saturday."

Jennie said, "But still Mom, it's your birthday. Dad and I can't leave."

Mrs. Hollins said, "Of course you can, I'll find something to do."

Jennie looked at me with expectant eyes and I said, "Look, with your daughter out of town I'll be foot loose and fancy free. Let me take you out. We'll do something different, something you wouldn't normally do."

Jennie said, "That's a great idea Mom and I know just the place. There's a club not too far from campus. It has a mixed crowd, not just students."

Mrs. Hollins said, "I don't know, you sure you want to go out with an old lady Michael?"

"What old lady, you bringing a friend? With Jennie out of town you'll be the finest woman around."

Mrs. Hollins said, "What, I'm not as hot as my daughter?"

Jennie said, "Mom, you and I will pick out something for you to wear, show my boyfriend exactly how hot you can be."

We ran it, well at least the general concept, by Mr Hollins; he said it was an excellent idea.

* * * * *

"Happy birthday Mrs. Hollins."

I handed her a half-dozen roses. While a cliche, it was always appreciated. Eyes spread wide, she kissed my cheek and said, "They're beautiful. Please come in."

And while her eyes had spread wide, they were no match for mine. Mrs. Hollins' red dress snugly fit her slender form; her small breasts perfect in the built-in cups. The back was open; there were no straps, just a tie around the neck. And, as I followed her into the house, I focused on her butt; it formed an impeccable bump in the back of the dress.

And the shoes: red stiletto heels that buckled around the ankles.

The dress screamed fuck me, the shoes hollered the same thing, and later her moves on the dance floor would be exclamation points. If it was going to happen, it would happen tonight. I was going to make my, and Jennie's fantasy come true: I'd fuck her mother.

In the living room she handed me a glass of wine, put the flowers in a vase, studied them, moved one flower half-an-inch, another a quarter-of-an-inch, leaned forward, took a long whiff, chin in hand studied them, moved two more flowers, and said, "They're lovely, and you're sweet and thoughtful," kissed my cheek - her perfume was light and airy - pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and said, "I can see why my daughter's so enamored with you."

"A beautiful woman deserves beautiful flowers, and you look spectacular. Jennie asked for pictures."

I took several of her, then several of us together, my arm around her shoulder, her arm around my waist.

Jennie texted, said we were a good looking couple, instructed me to show her Mom the time of her life.

* * * * *

I held the door of my newly cleaned jalopy for her, then her chair at the hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant where we'd never run into any of her crowd. She asked my advice, ordered it, complimented my choice. We shared dessert, went to the club, danced fast, danced slow, and later, as I drove her home, she leaned her body into mine.

* * * * *

I handed her a glass of wine as she moved a couple of the flowers, moved them back, moved one other, and said, "That's better, it's been bothering me all night. What do you think?"

I said, "I think you've got it," held my glass up.

"To you, on your birthday."

Touching her glass to mine she said, "To a wonderful evening, I can't remember a better time. Why don't you put on some music, come sit with me. I need to get off my feet, it's been years since I danced in stilettos."

"Well, every guy there'd vote in favor of you doing it again."

"Michael, are you flirting with me?"

"Just getting started."

Mrs. Hollins sat, took off her ruby heart-shaped earrings, lay them on the table next to the couch. I put on some soft jazz, said, "Foot rub?" she said, "I'd like that," and I sat on the far end of the couch as she pirouetted until her back rested on the arm and her feet were in my lap.

I unbuckled her shoes, laid them on the floor, worked her feet; we chatted, she drank her wine. When her phone pinged she signaled me to keep working, picked it off the coffee table, held it up — it was Jennie on FaceTime - then turned it back towards her and said, "Hey babe, how'd the interview go?"

"Not good. The guy from Dad's frat was away on a family emergency. I ended up with a guy who had no idea who I was, who hadn't reviewed my file. It was a milk run, not an interview. But enough of me. Happy birthday, did you have fun?"

"I'm sorry to hear that honey. And yes, your boyfriend showed me a wonderful time. I haven't danced like that in years. He's rubbing my feet right now."

"He gives good foot rub Mom. I want to talk to both of you."

Moving her feet off my lap, Mrs. Collins slid down the couch and leaned her body on mine.

My girlfriend was sitting-up in bed, her back resting on the headboard, a blanket pulled across her chest. Her shoulders were bare. Was she wearing any clothes?

"You taking good care of Mom, sweetie?"

"Trying."

"Good, give Mom a birthday kiss from me."

Mrs. Collins turned her head, I brushed my lips on hers.

Jennie said, "C'mon, you can do better than that."

Mrs. Collins, holding the phone in one hand, turned her shoulders, wrapped slender strong fingers on the back of my neck, pulled me towards her, ran a hand down my side, kissed me. Her lips moved on mine, mine on hers; I was as hard as a rock.

Jennie said, "That's much better. Now you two don't stay up too late, and sleep soundly. Love you both."

Mrs. Hollins clicked off the phone, slid it onto the coffee table, rotated towards me, said, "My daughter said she left me a pretty present. Do you know what she was talking about? "

"Not sure, but I'd hate for you to be disappointed. Are there any boxes lying around?"

She said, "No," started unbuttoning my shirt, added, "Could she have meant you?"

"Maybe, should we call and ask?"

"No, she was already in bed, we wouldn't want to wake her. We'll assume I'm right and check with her in the morning."

She undid several more buttons, opened my shirt, ran her hand on my chest, said, "Nice," then finished unbuttoning and pulled my shirt and undershirt over my head, ran her hands on my chest, teased my nipples with her perfect nails, said, Good body, do you know how to use it?"

"Jennie doesn't complain and she's not one to hide her opinion. In fact, she's quite uninhibited, there's this game we play where she pretends to be you."

"Yes, I saw on the boat. Do you like this game Michael?"

On the boat? She was running her nails in circles around my nipples, it was hard to concentrate. Oh yeah, the boat.

"Very much."

She kissed the top of my chest; I slipped a hand inside her dress, stroked a small firm breast with the side of my thumb.

"So, should I pretend to be my daughter?"

I rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger.