Commodities

Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 1

OFFERS I COULDN'T REFUSE: PART 1. DITZY DONNA AND RALPHIE'S FIRST CHRISTMAS. Based on a post by Kirk 48 2002 [https://www.literotica.com/authors/Kirk482002/works], in 2 parts. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/fall-2025/OffersICouldntRefuse1.mp3] at Connected [https://feeds.feedburner.com/connected-podcast]. [https://archive.org/download/fall-2025/OffersICouldntRefuse.jpg] "I really did used to like the holidays," grumbled Ralphie Persons Junior; as he rubbed the same spot on his head that he'd whacked several times in a row on the same slanted ceiling beam. It was the first weekend in December, and he was crawling around the attic, looking for boxes of holiday decorations, that his mother wanted hauled downstairs and put up, the day after Thanksgiving. Having just started his first term at community college, Ralphie Jr. managed to dodge that bullet by complaining that he had a couple of papers due in English Composition and Early American History. The papers being due the Monday after Thanksgiving was true, but he'd left out the part that they were already finished. With a mighty grunt, he shoved a box of Easter lawn decorations aside and hit his head again. That time he saw stars. "If she wants them down so bad, why doesn't she do it?" he grumbled louder to himself. "Because she's more than twice your age, she doesn't like to hit her head, and she's got you to do it," said Ralph Sr., looking like a disembodied head sticking up, out of the floor of the attic. "Now, if you're done complaining, I'm sure you've got some boxes to come down; so pass them to me and I'll take them down the ladder for you." That suited Ralphie just fine, because trying to balance the boxes as he slid out the access hole, and then find his footing on the ladder; was no easy chore. He pushed what he already had found, toward the opening and looked for more. After hitting his head once more, he was convinced he'd found them all. "I think that's it, Pop." "You're missing the box with the tree ornaments," came his mom's voice through the access way. Ralphie took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Alright mom, I'll keep looking," Jr. said, sounding a bit miffed. Actually sounding a lot miffed. "We're gonna go and start setting up the outside lights and blow up characters," said his Pop through the hatchway. "That'll keep us out of your way a while and let you blow off some steam. I don't want you saying something to your mother the wrong way and have you regret it later." "Okay," sighed Ralphie, nodding his head as his Pop disappeared down the hatch. He took a long look around the attic and didn't see a box marked ornaments, so he decided to straighten and organize the entire loft by opening each box and marking them. He found that some of the boxes had his old clothes that he wore in grade school."Why doesn't she get rid of this stuff?" he thought to himself. Then he chuckled."If she's waiting for grandkids she's got a long wait." He didn't really have a girlfriend but his parents thought he did. For some reason they both kept pushing the idea of him and the girl he took to the prom, Louise Johnson, as being a couple."A couple of dorks," he thought. Actually, he did take Louise AKA 'Looney Louise,' out on a few dates during the summer. She was kind of funny and interesting, but her shenanigans and her perpendicular hair, far outweighed the positives, except for her tits. "Whew," Jr. said, shaking his head at the thought of them. He remembered when she showed them to him, and he started to daydream. DOUBLE FEATURE. They were in the back of the movie theater and she was jamming popcorn in her mouth. He saw that she had as much 'fruit of the Redenbacher' on her shirt as she still had in her trough of popcorn. "I think you better do something," he said, pointing in the general direction of her breasts. She put the bucket under her boobs and pushed the lucky kernels back in causing her breasts to bounce several times. "There, better?" Other than a few genuine imitation butter stains she was all clean. She settled back in her seat and shifted around a bit almost slumping, forcing her breasts up and out. Between the seat in front of her and her tits in her face, Ralphie didn't think she could see the screen. He didn't realize he was staring at her, until her eyes slowly turned toward him. "Imagination running wild?" she whispered, placing her trough of corn on the floor. "I bet you've got a hundred different visions of what they look like, going on in your head. What do you think they look like?" Ralphie sat there with his mouth agape. "Oh come on. Maybe they're perky, droopy, hard, or soft. Maybe they have veins all over them. Maybe my nipples are large like acorns, small like cherry pits, or even big and puffy," she whispered, encouraging him in her game. Ralphie still sat there with his mouth agaip. She sighed. "No idea, huh? Okay," she said, unbuttoning her blouse down to her navel and unclasping the front hook on her bra. She snapped them open and said, "Behold!" ATTIC OF FAMILY ARTIFACTS. He was startled out of his obcessions by his father's strong voice. "Junior, did you find them yet?" his Pops voice said from the hole. "No, I decided to go through everything while I was up here. By the way, why is Mom saving all my old clothes? Some of this stuff goes back to first grade," he yelled loud enough for his Pop to hear. "I don't think she's actually saving it. It was more like putting winter or summer clothes away till next year but you grew out of them and they just didn't come back down. Mark those boxes 'Donations', slide them toward the hatch, and we'll get them down the road to the Goodwill later. Just make sure you go through every box you want to donate to make sure there isn't anything important in them," yelled Pop. "Okay," Ralphie yelled back. Thinking back to Louise, as he continued his work, it reminded him that he hadn't heard from her since she went out west to college. She didn't come home for Thanksgiving, and he wondered if she was coming around for the Christmas break. Several times, he thought to call to just say hello; but she didn't have a cell phone, (something about messing up her brain waves). He didn't have any idea exactly where she was staying out there; so that was that. Eventually, Ralphie found the ornaments and pushed them toward the hatch. The other holiday decorations were neatly stacked by which event came next on the calendar; and all that was left was for him to go through the boxes he marked 'Donations'. Most had nothing but clothes in them and a few had some old grade school projects in them like a Thanksgiving turkey made from a tracing of his hand. He put that kind of stuff aside for safekeeping and opened the last box. Under some toddler clothes, he found some folders and spiral wire-bound notebooks that belonged to his Pop. The folders contained some receipts and warranties for products long gone. Like that fax machine, and the Commodore Computer. The wire bound notebooks had some recipes and newspaper clippings about people his parents knew. One of the books had some writing in it, kind of like the notebook he'd found in the garage that spring. He flipped through it and saw some of those same magic words he'd seen in the last book like, 'boobs and tits'. That was dad's old email password for his AOL account. On the first page, it had a header and a title: "Journal: Thursday, December 26, 1974." "Christmas With the Ditz" Ralphie settled himself under the dangling light and pulled the string to turn it on. "Okay Pop, entertain me," he said as he began to read... DATING DONNA. It's been two weeks since she came back into my life. Donna. Ditzy Donna. I figured I'd write this down while it's still fresh in my mind. It's been kind of a crazy two weeks but what other kind would it be with her? She made the decision not to move in permanently with me until she found a job to help contribute. The job hunt took exactly fifteen minutes when she walked two blocks to Kiddie City and landed a job demonstrating toys. That sure took a stretch of imagination to see her potential as a goof-ball playing with toys for kids. At least she didn't have to go too far for the party favors she wore out on a regular basis. Her smock was always loaded down with a usual assortment as well as her favorite, a pair of Groucho glasses. The guy that hired Donna remembered her from somewhere in the past and gave her a huge starting rate. Most people started at two dollars and hour but he gave Donna six. I'm still a little jealous of that, considering I've worked for the same place since junior high school and don't make much more than that. By Wednesday of her first week, the manager realized he had a goldmine with her and worked her as long as she wanted. When they closed Saturday night, they gave her a paycheck for sixty-four hours at $6.00 an hour plus overtime, plus a hundred-dollar bonus for a job well done. The boss even cashed the check for her. Suddenly Donna was a rich ditz with the next day off and Christmas coming a few days later. On that Saturday night, the 21st, the true meaning of Christmas started to come shining through: Love, generosity, and ditzyness. SHOPPING SPREE. I heard the door slam and came out of the bedroom. "Look," yelled Donna, fanning her riches out in front of me. "They could be all ones," I said, standing on the other side of the room. She bunny hopped herself over to me and flapped the fanned greenbacks in my face. Nope, they were all twenties and tens and as crisp as the day they were made. "We got to go shopping," she said, slurring her words from a dollar induced high. I looked at my watch and said, "It's nine-thirty, everything's closed." She crossed her eyes and gave me a Bronx cheer. "It's the Saturday before Christmas! Everything is open until midnight!" "You said you wanted to go out to eat tonight. We can't shop and eat at the same time," I said. Donna suddenly looked very disappointed. "Come on, Ralph. I worked real hard this week for this," she said, letting her fist full of dollars flop down to her side. It was immediately covered by her six-inch too long sweater sleeve. "I don't feel like dealing with that tonight. I just want to and get something to eat and then hang out with you," I said, trying to sound as sincere as I could. That and the fact that we hadn't had sex since last weekend when she came back into town. Not that we didn't want to, it was a matter of female biology. "Do you promise to take me tomorrow?" she asked. "Yes." "Bright and early?" she asked, holding her index finger up at me. "Yes." "Bright and early as in first in line when they unlock the door?" she asked, now wagging her finger at me. "Ah, yes," I replied not as rock solid as before. She looked at me a second and tilted her head. "Cross your heart?" "Yes," I said, crossing my heart. "Pinky swear?" she asked, holding out her little finger to me. "Yeah, pinky swear," I said, hooking my little finger with hers. "Good. Now before we go out I need a shower 'cause I stink," she said, walking past me to the hallway. I watched her as she walked in the bathroom, turned on the light and the transistor radio. One by one, pieces of clothing were tossed out into the hallway and then the door closed. I heard the water start running and turned to go to the kitchen. The bathroom door opened, her hand popped out, and her finger beckoned me to follow. I may not be the smartest but I didn't need an explanation on that gesture. Even though I'd just gotten a shower an hour before I shucked my clothes and was in the bathroom faster than you could say 'All the way!' She was completely under the shower with her eyes wide open watching me as I hopped in myself. Little Ralphie was stiffly bouncing with glee at in her direction. "Don't get too frisky, we don't have a condom in here," she said, handing me the soap and washcloth. She was right; I had nearly four dozen brand-spanking new assorted Trojans sitting in their boxes, individually foil raped, tucked safely in the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. I told you I wasn't the smartest. Shit. Well, there was no use crying about it so I started to give Donna a good scrub down. I started down at her feet and worked my way up, taking extra special care on her privates and giving her boobs two coats of wax. She did her face herself to make sure she'd removed her make-up properly while I got the shampoo ready for her. Somewhere between squirting her head and getting up a full head of lather, her hand had managed to attach itself to little Ralphie. "Feels like someone didn't like being ignored this week," she said, blowing soap foam away from her mouth. "Think he'll forgive me?" "I'm sure he'd be happy if you tried," I replied. Just then, Sam Cook's 'Chain Gang' began playing on the radio. Donna started bending her knees and moving to the music, giving me hard tugs with every 'Hooh! Aah!' She mouthed the words, 'Well don't you know...' and then said, "I'm going to make you cum before the end of this song," while blinded by lather and spitting soap. "Okay," I squeaked, while trying to clean that wild mop of blond hair. She sang some, mouthed the words some, and gyrated as she worked on me to the music. She started using both hands, making sure that every time the 'Hoohs' and 'Aahs' came on, the tugs were more forceful. By the time he was singing about going home to see his woman, I wasn't scrubbing her head any more, I was holding on for dear life. My left knee started shaking and I gagged on a mouthful of water as she coaxed me over the edge. As he asked for some water 'cause he was thirsty, the first blast hit her on the stomach. The second and third hit her thigh and kneecap and the rest dribbled down into the water. Donna held me until I went soft while I leaned on the shower wall for support. "I told you I'd make you cum before the end of the song," she said, spitting more soap at me. "Now do you mind if I rinsed off too?" she said, still blind with lather. "Sure," I said, climbing out and drying myself off. OUT TO EAT. At 10:30, we were slamming the doors to my car. We could've been out of my apartment ten minutes faster but even with a super heavy-duty hair dryer it takes forever to get Donna's hair to the point of just being damp let alone dry. "So, where do you want to go?" I asked, as my '64 Malibu turned over. Donna thought for moment. "I guess we're a little late for the 'All the Way House'." 'Thank God,' I thought. "I'm hungry, but I just don't know what I'm in the mood for. Just head over to Main Street and we'll look for something open," she said. A car pulled up behind us, blocking our way out. "Uh oh," said Donna when she saw who got out of the car. It was my good buddy Jim. "Hey guy, how ya doing?" He asked leaning down to my window. "Hey mop head," he said, nodding in Donna's direction. "I see you're heading out. What a coincidence. How about letting me use the place for a little while?" Jim usually dropped by on Friday nights to 'use' my apartment. Being it was Saturday I thought I was safe. Guess not. "I don't think so." "Come on. We'll be gone before you know it," he said, looking back at his smoking piece of crap. Tonight's girl looked about ten years older than us; and her make-up was crooked. The memory of last week's debacle was still fresh in my mind, and I couldn't help but get nasty. "How much is she costing you?" "Be nice," he said, wagging his finger at me. "It's a cousin of my sister's friend. She's got Parkinson's or something." "Getting pretty far down the list, aren't you?" asked Donna, shaking her head. "What, are you kidding? That shaking bit could take things to a whole new level," he replied, humping my door to stress his point. "No, for a lot of reasons; starting with the fact that you owe me twenty dollars, for the money you took out of my wallet." He tossed a twenty down on my lap. "You also owe me fifty for that citation for disturbing the peace." Two more twenties and a ten fluttered down the steering wheel and my legs. "My apartment still smells like burnt popcorn!" He went to his car and came back with an unopened air freshener. "You smashed my TV!" I shouted. Jim sighed. "I can't help you there right now." Donna weighed in; "He said no, Jim. Go down by the lake. She can give you a shaky handjob like all the other high school kids parked over there," Donna said. "Now move your car, I want to eat!" That was my Donna; ditzy, yet assertive. I didn't bother letting Jim in on the fact that I had the citation taken care of. Well, I had fifty bucks toward a new TV. He left, and we were finally on our way. We passed a few burger places, but neither of us wanted one. Then Donna pointed. "Oh! Vito's is still open!" Vito's pizzeria and restaurant opened its doors in 1950, in a strip shopping center; as a simple pizza and sandwich shop. Business was so good that a few years ago when a store next to it went vacant, he expanded; turning it into a table and booth establishment. The food was excellent and they had a BYOB policy that most customers utilized. Though their menu was somewhat pricey, it was a successful family business. No, I don't mean Vito's family. I mean that other Italian family. You know, wink-wink. Now, I don't know for sure if Vito is one of them, but there's always a table that has four to six men in suit coats playing cards, while people come and go, greeting them with envelopes as they shake hands. It's always the same four to six. One thing was for sure at Vito's: Skipping on the check, was not recommended. I'd heard rumors of those that tried; nothing factual, just stories. Tonight the check will be paid, cash. I enjoy walking without a permanent gimp. We entered the place and the first thing I noticed was all six suits were in attendance at their usual table, playing cards and the place was all decked out for Christmas. Donna picked a table far enough away from the door so she could take her coat off and not get cold, but she left her very long sleeved cardigan sweater on. I left my coat on and sat down. I looked around, saw a few people I knew, and only a couple of empty tables. "I guess there's a lot of hungry people, finishing holiday shopping tonight," I said. "Look at that tree," said Donna, marveling at a giant white fur lit up like a, well, like a Christmas tree with all white lights standing in the corner. "We need to get a tree." "The apartment complex kind of frowns on that, Donna. They're fire hazards. They don't mind artificial trees," I said, trying to salvage her good mood. "What? You mean those stick aluminum trees that have a lighted dial that changes color shining on it? My grandparents had one of them. It looked stupid," she replied. "I want one like that!" she said loud, pointing across the room. That got the attention of the 'suits' and they turned to look. "Donna!" said the skinny one with a pair of jacks. "Donna!" shouted the tall one with three threes. "Donna!" coughed the fat one holding a busted flush. All six of the men got up and came to our table to greet us. No, make that ‘greet Donna.’ In the course of their conversation, I picked up that they all knew her dad, and one summer she ran errands for the guys. When they were done talking, they headed back to their table, except for 'fat busted flush'. "Anything you want tonight's on us. You want something to drink, order it." "But this is a 'bring your own' place," said Donna. He shook his head. "Anything you want, you got it," he replied. "But we're not old enough to drink," she said, laughing. "Believe me," he said, holding his hand over his heart. "Anything you want honey, no problem." "How about a tree like that," she said, pointing at the giant in the corner. He patted his coat, pulled out a pad and pen, and jotted something down. As he handed the note to Donna he said, "Go down the corner where they have that temporary lot of trees set up. Ask for Paulie Toucan, not Paulie Asshole, and hand him that note. He'll take care of you." Then he turned to look at me, and said, "How ya doin'," and waddled back to his seat. "Boy, the way they acted, you'd think you were Italian," I said, catching the eye of the waitress. Donna looked at me like I was stupid. "I am." "Your last name is Brunner. How is that Italian?" I asked. "Actually my family's last name is Bruno. It was changed when my grandfather came over on the boat. Does it make a difference?" she asked, propping up her chin on her hand. "Bruno. Why does that sound familiar?" I asked. "It should. My grandfather is like a second cousin to the big guy in Philly," she said. "Hi Donna," said our waitress. "Do you want a menu or do you know what you want?" I thought she looked familiar. Now I knew who she was. Ronnie Vaspero. She was the cutest girl in school from first grade all the way up through high school. At first, she was a nice girl. Then she realized her looks were special. Suddenly, most people she knew no longer existed to her. She oozed conceit and kept her nose in the air around anyone that wasn't Italian, or a member of the upper class. The only reason she was working here, was that she was engaged to Vito's son, who stood to inherit the joint when Vito hung up his apron for good. At that moment, her nose was so high that if a bird was in the rafters and took a dump it would've gone right up her nostrils. I glanced up at the ceiling. Nope, there weren't any birds when we needed 'em. "I'm just gonna have the veal parmie," said Donna, "And a Coke." Ronnie didn't even turn her head in my direction. She just stood with her pen hovering over the check pad. "I'll have the same," I offered. "Original thinker," she mumbled as she turned to go. Donna slapped the table. "Wait! I want a side dish of hot peppers and make sure I get a shaker of the red pepper stuff!" Ronnie stopped in mid-stride, facing away from us, and wrote that done. When she continued to stand there; I realized she was waiting to see if I was adding anything. "Nothing for me." "Wuss," I heard her mumble as she went into the kitchen. I shook my head and patted Donna on the hand. "What does the note say?" She opened it and snorted. "Whatever she wants - delivered tonight, Alphonse." "That's not bad, but is it really a good idea to take a favor like that from them?" I asked, not sure of the rules. "If we didn't take them up on the offer it would be a great insult to them. Trust me, we don't want to do that," she said waving at the thin one that glanced in her direction. Our food came quickly and Donna emptied half a jar of crushed red pepper on hers. Next to her plate was another just as large with two-dozen green hot chili peppers on it. My nose started running just from the smell of them. For every red pepper laden mouthful of veal or spaghetti, one pepper was eaten until they were gone. When we finished, Ronnie gave us a check that said 'COMP'. I left her a tip and we gave our thanks to the suits and walked out. Donna looked up and down the street. "Which way is the;" I glanced back in the window of Vito's, and all six guys were pointing which way to go. "This way," I said, trying to make myself sound intelligent. "Cool," said Donna, as she put on her Groucho glasses and blew on a party favor. "You know, I don't have anything to put on the tree let alone a stand for it," I let my girl know. "Don't worry about it," she replied. As we got near the place, we saw two men standing by a barrel with a good fire going in it and both were warming their hands. Behind them were dozens of trees of different types and sizes. A few people were milling around looking them over. In the center of the lot was a immense tree lit and decorated to the hilt. As we approached the men, they noticed Donna and started to laugh. "So," said the tall one, still laughing. "What kind of tree you want?" Donna took off her glasses and stuffed them in her pocket. "We're looking for Paulie Toucan." "I'm Paulie," said the short older man. It was obvious why he had the nickname Toucan. His nose made Jimmy Durante's look petite. "I'm supposed to give this to you," Donna said, handing him the note. He read it and showed it to the other guy. The other guy read it and said, "What the fuck? That's the second one tonight, Paulie. He's killing all our profit." He quickly shook his head. Turning to Donna, he said; "Forget it. You can turn right around and tell that fat fuck if he wants you to have a tree he can come pay for it." "Hey, watch your mouth, Paulie," said the Toucan, pointing out the fact that Donna was a girl. 'Asshole. A perfect nickname,' I thought. Toucan pulled Donna aside and lead her through the lot while I followed a few paces behind. "Don't worry about him, we're thinkin' it's a sugar problem. Now, what kind of tree were you looking for?" "I was hoping for one like Vito's got in his place," said Donna hopefully. "I think it was a White Pine." He turned back and shouted, "Hey Paulie, wasn't that a White Pine we sent over to Vito's?" "Fuck off!" Asshole barked, as a woman and her kid passed by him. "Hi sweetie," he said to her, as the woman pulled her kid away from him. "Could be Tourette's," Toucan said, shrugging his shoulders. "Now tell me why Al wants to give you a tree." "He knew my father and remembered me from when I was little," she replied. My dad's Silvio Brunner. "Your dad's Silly Toots? Yeah I know him. He's an old friend of ours," said Paulie Toucan, smiling from ear to ear. "So you're his kid, huh?" Donna looked at him. "Toots?" she asked. "Yeah, ah, you know. He always farted when he walked, like a toy train tooting." Donna fell the ground laughing her ass off. "Now I know for sure you know my dad," she said between whoops. When she calmed down, I grabbed her hand and pulled her up. As she finished giggling she snorted and said, "I want that tree," pointing at the lit and decorated centerpiece. "That one?" asked Paulie, making sure she wasn't kidding. "Yep, that one," she replied. "That's our display model," Toucan stated. "But I want it." "Donna, don't make him mad. Pick another tree," I said, trying to help. "I want that one," she said emphatically. "It's too big to fit in the apartment," I said just as sternly. Toucan turned to me and said, "Hey, Douche Bag, did I ask for your help?" He turned and pleaded with her. "If we give you that tree, it's gonna take forever to take all the stuff off and put it on another one." Donna looked him right in the eye and said, "I don't think you understand. I want it exactly the way it is." Then blew a party favor in his face. "But, but." he stammered. "Read the note again," she suggested. He didn't have to. He knew what it said. Drooping his shoulders in defeat, he said, "Okay, if you want this tonight; it's gonna take a while cause I gotta get some more guys over here to help me. Besides, I can't leave Paulie in charge," Toucan said pointing in Asshole's direction. "What the fuck you looking at," Asshole snapped back. "Not with his epilepsy," added Toucan. "Donna, that tree is way too tall for the ceiling," I said. "We'll cut it down as needed," said Paulie. "He really is a douche bag, isn't he?" Toucan asked Donna. "Yeah, but he's kind of a sweet douche bag," Donna said, pinching my cheek. He looked around until he saw some of his helpers. "Hey, use three, when you're done there, I need you get this tree ready for delivery," he shouted, pointing to the demo. "That fuckin' thing?" asked the kid, tying a tree to the hood of a car. "That fuckin' thing?" growled the kid, picking a woman's purse. "That fuckin' thing?" asked the kid holding a young boy upside down by the ankles. "What?" screamed Asshole, kicking over the fire barrel. "Ah, yous two ought to get out of here before Paulie pops an aneurysm. Give me your address and phone number, and I'll see you later." Toucan glanced at us both. "You are gonna be up later, right?" I looked at my watch. It was 12:30 in the early AM. I wondered just how serious Donna was about getting up early to be first in line at the shopping center. I also was concerned about making too much noise for the neighbors. "Around what time are we talking?" I asked. "I'm not sure. I have to get at least four more people here. Tonight is our busiest night of the year," Toucan said. "Might be a couple of hours." "But it's already after midnight," I said, not following his reasoning. "It's the last Saturday before Christmas. A lot of people wait until tonight after the kiddies go to bed to get a tree. Then mom and pop sit up all night, decorating; as a surprise. Of course, some wait until Christmas Eve, telling the kids that Santa brought it. We don't wait around for that. At midnight, we call it quits and head home. Any trees left are up for grabs. By then, the only people that haven't gotten a tree are those that don't celebrate it; or the really hard off. For them I say, God bless you, take a tree. Now go; before Paulie gets his second wind." I looked over at Asshole, and he'd already picked up the barrel and was headed in our direction. "Thanks Paulie, we'll see you later," I said, grabbing Donna by the arm and pulled her in the direction of my car. OUR FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. It didn't take long for Donna to clear enough room for the tree considering I didn't have a TV anymore. Now all we had to do was wait. I stood looking at the cleared out corner, then looked at the clock. It was 1:10. I got a wonderful idea and turned back toward the sofa, to tell Donna; only she wasn't in the room. I headed down the hallway to the bedroom and found her face down, buck-naked, and spread eagle on the bed. "I see you had the same Idea I had," I said, ripping off my clothes as fast as I could. "It wasn't so much an idea, as a need. Little Ralphie better have some life left, after earlier," she said, almost like a warning. I dug through the drawer, came out with a condom, and handed it to Donna. She rolled over and sat up, facing me, and put on her Groucho glasses, like they could actually help her read. "What is this?" she asked. "Ribbed for her pleasure," she read. "And it's pink." "I wanted to try something different," I replied. She kissed me. Donna wasn't big on physical contact around others, even when we were alone she didn't cling to me. That made any contact with her, all the more meaningful and electrifying. Right now, her kiss sent shock waves through me, and also burned the crap out of my tongue. All those frickin' hot peppers. Mental note: no oral sex tonight. I caressed the smooth skin of her back and her thighs. With each touch, my mind kept asking if this was real. Just a few short weeks ago, I was as alone as anyone could be. Now, the girl that I've always loved, was here, and she loved me. As my hand moved back to her side, she drew her knee up exposing herself. I could smell her urgency. I'd never 'diddled with the cliddle' but I'd read some stories about it. So, I lowered my hand and touched her. She sighed and kissed me harder. So far so good. I felt around for her clit and she let me know when I found it by biting my tongue. "Sorry," she whispered, pulling away from the kiss and lying onto her back. A moan escaped her lips. "A little faster, please," she whispered. I diddled a little faster and she grabbed the first thing her hand touched, a handful of hair from the back of my head. Her hips heaved up and slammed back down on the bed. She shrieked and shook and pulled my hair. When she calmed down, she let go of my hair, pulled out a party favor, and blew on it. From beginning to end, less than a minute went by. "Whew, I needed that," she said, pushing her hair out of her face. "Where's that thing?" she asked, looking for the condom. "For my pleasure, huh? I may never want to do it any other way." She winked at me. I was plenty ready by the time she had the wrapper off and put it on me. After a few misfires she helped guide me in. It felt so good! I stayed there unmoving. "Are you okay?" she asked. "It feels so good," I mumbled. "I know Ralphie, but let's give those ribs a rip." 'Never leave your girl wanting more, always finish the job,' I thought, as I found a rhythm she seemed to like. "These are great," she said, pumping me harder and faster. I tried to keep up with her, but she was going nuts below me. "Wait, wait," she said, as she rolled us over and climbed on top. "Relax and enjoy the ride," she said breathlessly. Donna rode me like I was a bucking bronco. Her hair was flopping and her luscious tits were bouncing, while I could do little but get thumped in the crotch, and watch this magnificent girl work herself into a mind blowing orgasm. When she came, she jammed down hard, grabbed me by the shoulders, and shouted 'Yes!" through gritted teeth. Her hard protruding nipples were rubbing my chest. She breathed hard for a minute, and then flopped her head down on my neck. Her breath was still brutal, but I didn't mind. "You didn't cum," she whispered, moving her crotch a little with me still in there. "How could you tell?" I asked. "You get a funny look on your face," she said. "I think I got bruised," I said. Donna rolled off and inspected me. "Oh shit, I'm sorry Ralph. Oh my God, you're all red down here. I guess I don't know my own strength. I'm really sorry," she said, as her eyes started to fill with tears. "That's all right, don't worry about it. You didn't break anything permanently," I said, pulling off the condom. "I'll make it up to you," she said, between kisses on my cheek and rubs on my crotch. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by Kirk 48 2002 [https://www.literotica.com/authors/Kirk482002/works], in 2 parts, for Literotica.

Andrew’s Delightful Attributes

ANDREW’S DELIGHTFUL ATTRIBUTES. THE WOMEN IN ANDREW’S LIFE, ARE GETTING FRISKY. Based on a post by Meow 5 meow [https://www.literotica.com/authors/Meow5meow/works]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/fall-2025/AndrewsDelightfulAttributes.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/fall-2025/AndrewsDelightfulAttributes.jpg] MOM CATCHES ANDREW SOLO. Eliza woke up to her Saturday morning and rolled over to look at her clock, it said 9am, which was an hour before she usually rose. She knew Andrew would already be up because he was an early riser; like his father had been. So she pulled a robe around herself and headed downstairs quietly. When she entered the kitchen there was no one there, she checked around the house but didn't see him. Still sleepy she let the mystery and worry go and made herself some coffee and a bagel. She finished her breakfast quickly because felt a little uncomfortable with the dead silence in the house. She wondered where her son went. He tended to be pretty active in the mornings but didn't usually leave the house till he saw her. Some mornings Andrew would work out in the garage, but that was not where he was this early morning. She didn't see a note around anywhere, so she went back upstairs, to check her phone. Maybe he texted her before he left the house? Eliza didn't feel any urgency yet, just mild curiosity as she went back up the stairs. On this pass through, she purposely looked at Andrew's bedroom door for signs of life. It was half open, quiet and dark inside. Suddenly Eliza believed her son must still be in bed, and she stepped over and gently pushed his door further, opening the room up to her view. Suddenly she could see Andrew sitting at his desk, against the far wall, with headphones on. "Oh." Eliza uttered quietly, feeling silly for her worry. Of course he was in his room. Andrew hadn't noticed her behind him. He was just sitting there, staring at the screen and moving his shoulder. Eliza finally looked at the screen to find an up close view of a naked woman's body, and saw her shaved cunt being fucked by a pale pink cock. She gasped and her eyes locked onto the porn her son was watching. For a least a minute she just stood there watching her son beat off. Minutes went by and she didn't move. “Is my cock bigger than Dad’s?” Andrew asked the Milf in the video. The video zoomed out and she could see the actors going at it. Her mouth dropped open. The actress was tall and blonde, like she was. And curvy with the same hairstyle as Eliza. The actor fucking her was young and superficially like Andrew too.  It was obvious Andrew had picked this video as a fantasy for him and her together. Eliza closed her mouth, blinking in the quiet that was only broken by the soft fleshy fapping sounds of her son's hand on his cock and his ragged breathing. At the same moment her own nipples tightened and her clit pulsed and began to inflame her sex. She was responding to the idea that her son was fantasizing about having sex with her. Her hand slid up the door jam and she tried to control her breathing and slow down her strong physical reaction. Her son was just stepping up his, though; arm jerking faster and tiny whimpers spilled out of his lips. She felt scared, not willing to take one step farther in his room. Shame rearing up to scream at her, for watching and responding; and feeling any sort of urge when it came to Andrew. She gripped the door knob and backed up a step, fully intending to flee this very moment. As her shoulders turned away from his room, she heard her son utter words that slammed into her like a freight train. "Yeah mom... you love my cock too.. Don't you?" Eliza swiftly retreated from that spot and went into her private bathroom and locked the door. Her heart was racing and panic leaking into her brain Eliza slumped down on her shaggy toilet seat cover and spread her legs. With fingers over her panties she explored her sex and shivered at her sensitivity, with a broken little sob she snaked her fingers under the waistband of her panties and glided over her drenched clit. It frightened her how quickly and feverishly she had responded to what she had seen. It was so utterly wrong. As she teased her clit, her brain tried to rationalize it. Masturbation is a natural thing, she told herself.  And it's Andrew's private business. Plus, mother-son fantasies are just a phase that young men grow out of quickly. Her own sensual reaction is just a sensitivity caused by not having had sex in a while, and her libido is just easily triggered. All normal and no way shameful; unless acted upon. It would never be acted upon. Eliza took a hot shower, and imagined her son fucking her in missionary position, looking him right in the face, as his cock pumped firmly in and out of her. Of kissing him; he was so handsome! It set her right over the edge and she moaned loudly, helpless to the overwhelming sensation of a strong orgasm. Her bare feet pressed against the tile floor of the double shower, and her hips rocked as she prolonged her pleasure. After a few minutes to breath dried off again and intended to get dressed. When she walked into her room to her closet she felt a wet sensation, looking down she saw that her juices had leaked down her leg, nearly to her knee. Which had never happened before in her life. Back to the bathroom to clean up, and then she began to put herself together and get ready for the day. She emerged from her room to an empty hallway and a closed door to her son's bedroom. At some point he had closed it, which made her wonder if he'd caught her. But she didn't think so. Eliza just tried to act normal and walk down the stairs and into the kitchen, to grab her purse and keys. She had a few errands to do. She intended to just leave him a note and avoid him until her awkwardness faded. But he was sitting at the counter, eating a bowl of cereal and texting with one hand. He looked up with his usual smile to say good morning to her. His face happy and relaxed; and not anxious at all. She just faked it and said good morning and made another cup of coffee for herself. Andrew wouldn't have any idea that she had already had one, today. As she stirred her sugar into her coffee Andrew came up behind her and reached around her to turn the sink on and rinse his bowl. He was standing way closer than he needed to, and it made Eliza's skin crawl. She hadn't ever noticed Andrew purposely invading her personal space until now. That he might possibly have a motive behind it, not just casual familiarity. He was pulling a power move that men love to make in bars, where they use the excuse of a busy bar to invade your space and get noticed, get close to you, even smell you. Reaching an arm passed you to hail the bartender but really to hail the lady's attention. If she notices and is interested she starts the conversation, if she doesn't then he will push on with an opening line. "Hey mom, you feeling alright?" He pushed. Eliza paled and hesitated trying to abolish her train of thought. "Of course, why?" "Well, you're stiff as a board." Now that he said something, she noticed, slumping her shoulders and trying to ease her own tension she let out a tiny nervous laugh and focused on herself for a moment and a small lie. "You are so right, I woke up with some back pain today, maybe I will take some Advil." He nodded and moved past her to pick up his phone and slide it in his pocket. "Hey mom,I am going to head over to Peter's, we are gonna work on his car." Eliza nodded quickly, "That's great, I am going to go run some errands and I will pick you up for dinner if you aren't home before me." They both headed for the front door and he opened it and stepped into the doorway making her squeeze passed him. Eliza was so determined not to be awkward that she fell into his trap and ended up brushing the front of her body with his. It was only when she felt the contact on her nipples did she realize what he had done. Then Eliza made another mistake and looked him in the eyes. He was staring at her with smoky bedroom eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips. Another sexy freight train mowed her down and her eyes almost crossed. "You're blushing mom." In complete panic she ditched the situation and sped off towards her car. "Bye Andrew, text me later!" Hopped in her car, started it and zoomed off as quick as she could. Leaving her laughing son behind her. Andrew had accepted his feelings towards his mother recently, and with it a sense of taboo had settled in to stoke that sexual fire inside him. Lately he had wanted to tell his mother about it but knew that she could never agree. That a fight like that might end up with him out of the house. Maybe with her cutting him out of her life, the idea of which terrified Andrew. But he couldn't resist showing her in tiny ways that he wanted her. This morning was as bold as he had ever tried and she had obviously noticed this time. Which is the first time she so obviously had. It was so exciting that he was standing on the front porch with a boner in his jeans. Andrew just turned around went back in the house and gently closed the door, headed to his room and freed his cock. And relived the events of the past 10 hours. Here’s the way he retells it; I only wanted a glass of water, I often woke up and got one in the middle of the night. But as I came down the dark staircase, I can see over the backrest of the couch, that my mom lying on the couch, watching TV still, at two in the morning? At first, I thought she was just sleeping, until she flopped over from her side to her back while lying out on the couch. The room was dark, except for the glow from the TV screen. Her eyes were closed and her face was tense, I almost asked her if she was all right;  but the words died on my lips. Her hand was shoved inside her thin pajama shorts, and she was rocking her hips. The smallest moan spilled from her mouth. I was frozen, my eyes locked onto the sight of her. I even had the perfect view from near the top of the stairs which let me see right over the couch. With the hand she wasn't using inside her shorts she unbuttoned her thin knit pajama top, then reached up and pinched her big dark stiff nipple, pulling and teasing it. I could feel my own heartbeat pounding in my chest. She let out another soft moan and my cock stirred to life. I want to tell it; ‘no.’ I inwardly resolved that it was wrong; so wrong. But it just kept growing. I was rooted to the spot, and this moment seemed to last forever. Her breathing came faster and her face grimaced more. She suddenly pulled her hand out but then grabbed her shorts and yanked them down beyond her knees. She spread her legs so wide apart I wondered how she was still that flexible. Her thighs were toned and her skin glowed in the TV light. The contrast was pleasing in the dark quiet night, the quiet words coming from the TV was the only soft sound. It was the ending of some romantic chick flick. She had a nice trim patch of curls between her legs, she looked so normal, like any other woman. But, this woman just so happened to be my mother. I had seen good-looking older women before, and I had known my mom was, too. But she had always been very private about her sexual life, and I rarely saw her go on dates. The sight of her touching herself was so surprising; and exciting. My cock was fully hard now, stretching my knit shorts out, obvious to the world. Why doesn't she open her eyes and see me standing right there, above her? Instead, she stretched her legs wider apart and dipped her fingers down into her open cunt.  I could hear the wet noises in the quiet room. Her free left hand gripped over the armrest of the couch. Another moan, louder this time. I can't help but wonder how wet she is, how her pussy would feel if I just walked down the rest of these steps and shoved my raging cock into her wet, swollen, wide-set cunt lips, and deep into her beautiful neglected cunt. Would she like it? Would my mom moan for my cock, like that? I watched  her movements become fast and erratic. It looks painful. I wonder if she is close? Anticipation rises in me, I want to see her finish rubbing it out. My cock is pulsing. My hands itch to touch it. It seems almost natural to touch myself while watching her, touching herself. But I don't, because a big part of me feels it's so wrong! And a small part of me is hoping to sink my willing and eager cock into my gorgeous sexy mom. She always told me that my changing body will awaken new feelings; and any feelings I have are natural, that I shouldn't repress or feel shame about my feelings, but accept them and move on. But what about this feeling? This urge to slam my cock deep into my mother’s beautiful cunt, and hear her moan for me. She was biting her lips now, she whispers into the dark, "Almost. Almost; almost." My feet seemed to slide down the steps further, not under my own will-power. I was just close enough now, that I could see her fingers parting those curls, watching her hips thrust against those fingers and her tits jiggle from her desperate movements. Her body starts shivering and jerking, digging her heels into the cushions, she half shimmies up the couch more, so her shoulders are now on the rounded armrest, and head hangs over, enough to stretch her body out. She is making small noises then her body jerks and her left hand flies up to her mouth and her whole body seems to tense up. I can’t see her face now, but her towering brown nipples are hard and raised up from her magnificent natural tits. Her body bounces and jerks with her orgasm, as if it is trying to explode out from her. Her head rocks side to side, and I clearly hear her muffled moans, her eyes are hidden from me, as her head still dangles down. Aloud grunt signals the release and a small squirt shoots out of her cunt, landing on the throw blanket under her full hips. Finally, her body goes limp on the couch, slowly her hand slides out of her pussy and she closes her legs. Her breathing sounds are loud, but the rhythm is receeding. I take a breath, the frozen spell seems to be broken. I stealthly sneak back up the rest of the stairs, and into my room. I can move again! I look down at my knit shorts and finally use my hands to free my cock from the tented cloth. As I had known, it was the deep red it turns when I am very very turned on. I can even feel a bit of precum sliding down the tip when I grab it, just squeezing it for a moment. Pleasure crawls up my spine from my first touch, I'm so sensitive that I know I would come fast. But part of me doesn't want to jack off, doesn't want to waste this glorious hard on. That part of me wants to go downstairs and put it in that wet and moaning woman. But she's my mom, and that is not going to happen. I guess I craved some confrontation though. I guess it’s the alpha-male in me. Mom say’s I’m becoming more and more like my deceased father. So I drop my loose shorts and go for some tight boxer briefs and thick black sweat pants that I know have a tight waistband, I strapped my dick to my body that way, and throw on a loose black T-shirt. When I come out of my room again, with my empty glass, I close the door kind of hard; and stomp heavily on the first few steps of the stairs. I'm so nervous, I feel like as soon as she looks at me, she will know. She will know that I know, what she was doing. Usually she could tell just from the look on my face, how I felt. My mom is just that type of person, she understands. But would she understand... what I had been thinking? I tried to put on a sleepy casual sort of expression. I hear her moving fast on the upholstery of the couch, and realize she must be quickly putting those tiny shorts back on. A part of me wishes to tell her to take them off again, but I only take a deep breath as I descend the last step. I look up slowly at her. "Oh, you're still awake?" I Pretend there is nothing weird going on. Her eyes were large with alarm, and she seemed a little confused or flustered. But I already know why, I don't need to ask. Then she responds; "Oh um... yeah. But I'm going to bed now," She turns quickly and grabs the remote, to turn off the TV. "Okay..."I said as I turned on the stairway light. "So.. are you alright? Why are you up?" she redirects the topic back to me. She didn't notice the glass in my hand, so I raised it up while answering her, "I'm thirsty." Her breathing is still fast, her nipples were still pointing out of her thin misbuttoned pajama top. I turned away and went into the kitchen, poured myself more water; and walked back across the livingroom, towards the stairs. She was waiting for me with her hand gripping the banister rail of the stairs like she was gonna fall or something. "Ready?" I just nodded. She went up the stairs ahead of me. I was forced to watch her legs and ass stretch and bend as she climbed. The crotch of her thin cotton knit pajama shorts were wet, and a little trail of juice was running down her inner thigh. My mom has a great ass, I had heard it said before, but only now in this moment in those tiny shorts did it become real to me. And then I took a deep breath, expecting just air but I got this scent. This scent made my brain tingle and my cock pulse, before I realized what it was. I could smell my mom’s fresh cum-filled pussy, she smelled hot, like a woman who needs it bad. Creamy, fleshy, salty, sweet, I breathed in deep to get more. Part of it was comforting, the smell of my mother when she wraps her arms around me, but now the image of her three fingers pushing into her pussy, came to mind. The image seared into my brain. The worst is that she smelled better than Roxanne, The girl Amelia introduced me to at the homecoming dance. My mother's pussy smells better than high school pussy!  Why did I have to find that out? Why did I have to wake up and see that tonight? How was I going to face her tomorrow, and the day after? We were finally at the top of the stairs. Mom went over to her bedroom door and opened it a crack, then looked at me. "So, I hope my movie didn't wake you?" Now, I knew what she was really saying. She hopes I didn't hear her masturbating in the middle of the night. "Nope, just thirsty. but mom;" then I paused. Where was this going? What could I possibly say to her? "You smell, good." As soon as the words left my mouth, I bolted into my room, panic taking my heartbeat to my throat. Why did I say that! Why did I say anything at all? Why? Because the memory of that scene and the smell of her hot ready pussy was going to keep me up all night. I was sure of it. It took a while to unwind and drift off to sleep. The next thing I remembered was the touch of two hands spreading my thighs apart. My cock erupted with cum as I happily enjoyed my mother’s lips and mouth devour my turgid shaft. Then I opened my eyes to the reality that I’d just had another ‘wet dream.’ My own two hands were on my own inner thighs. I hated waking up from that dream. But this time my own mother was in my dream! I so badly wanted to get back to sleep, and resume that terrific dream. But that didn’t happen. That’s when I had to get up and go search porn videos of Milfs with sons getting it on. Even though he had watched his favorite Mother/son porno this morning and got off before she even woke up, he needed to go again, which was less than an hour before now. He knew that the next few years living with her while he graduated and found a job where going to be torture. Yet the thought of trying to seduce her slowly over those years is what made him come in minutes flat. A smug happiness settled in his stomach as he zipped up his pants and headed out to Peter's house. He lived only two streets over and his parents gave him a gently used BMW for his 18th birthday which was awesome. But. His parents were also rarely at home, so Andrew tried to visit him at least once a week or invite him over. Peter was a nice kid and Eliza approved of having him over anytime. Unlike Tony. His mother's blushing face was like a prize trophy in Andrew's mind's eye for the rest of the day. Walking down the street, in the back of his mind, while playing video games with Peter later. A smile creeping up every once in awhile as he re-lived it. A CHEERLEADER WANTS ANDREW TO POP HER CHERRY. Andrew had just gotten home from Peter’s house, and didn't expect his mom home for about another hour. So he started some laundry, grabbing a basket and filling it with his weeks work of pants, shirts and socks. Stripping off the shirt and pants he had worn today, and put on some basketball shorts and a tank-top. He waited for the washer to fill and added his clothes, closed the lid and left the laundry room. He spent about 0 minutes working out on his dead weights, out in the garage. Then he came in and was making himself a sandwich in the kitchen, when he heard the doorbell ring. Shuffling over to the door, he pressed his eye close to the peephole in the front door, it was a young lady with long brown hair and the cheer uniform of his college. Andrew opened the door and instantly recognized the girl on the porch. It was Jennifer, one of the football cheerleaders, very upper class local hierarchy. Her dad was a rich computer wiz and she lived in the huge home on the bluff that overlooked the town. "Hi Jennifer, what's up?" Andrew just wondered what she wanted from him, and who gave her his address. "Oh hi, Drew! Um; Can I come in?" She looked behind her nervously and sidled past him into the house without waiting for him to accept. He let her, it wasn't like he objected to having her in his home. He just didn't know why she was here. Jennifer slowly entered his living room like a nervous gazelle, checking every corner of the room and listening for noises. He wondered if she expected anyone else to be here. He figured he’d give her some time before shooing her away, before his mom got home, in about 45 minutes. "So Andrew;" She patted the couch next to her; which she had daintily perched. Knees shut. "You know how I am friends with Amelia?"  He nodded. "She was telling me about you, and it got me really curious, the, um; stuff she told me." He instantly knew she meant the intimate stuff that he had done with Amelia, they hadn't had sex but had messed around a lot, and it had been fun. When will Amelia shut up. "Okay." Jennifer looked at the walls of the room and not at his face, her hands were wringing her purse in her lap. "I was wondering, if; you know, you could do that stuff with me!" Her eye darted to his, in alarm and looked away from him again. She seemed to expect immediate rejection, and her stiff muscles showed how agitated she was. Andrew shrugged, "Okay."  It sounded pretty harmless, she had just asked him if he would kiss her and whatever. Nothing he wasn't perfectly willing to do at any moment of his life. She nearly jumped off the couch, standing over him. "Really?" Her voice awkwardly loud in his quiet house. Andrew followed her up off the couch, standing in front of her. He reached out his hand for her to take, and she did. His other arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into him. Gently bringing them together for a light kiss on the lips. Jennifer sighed against his face and kissed him again, then again. He fully enveloped her in his arms and pressed his hands into the muscles of her back, making their whole bodies touch. She sighed happily again and became relaxed in his arms. He used one hand in her hair to tilt her head and at the same time he swiped his tongue across her lower lip to request her lips to open for him. She got the hint and he slowly reached for her tongue with his, finding her mouth minty. She really had come over in hopes of kissing him. She responded enthusiastically and fully opened her mouth and shoved her tongue against his. It was a bit much but he really liked her enthusiasm. Amelia had never been half as enthusiastic as Jennifer. Her excitement got to him and he felt his cock rising against his basketball shorts. She was also grinding her little body against him as they kissed. Minutes passed and she parted her legs and he used his knee to press against her mound, as she ground herself against it while they kissed. Andrew sensed that Jennifer wanted to go further than he had done with Amelia. Suddenly, he had a thought; ‘Gawd! Amelia’s been bragging to the girls that she and I have been fucking!’ It was the only theory that explained why Hot sexy Jennifer is getting very frisky, and doing so very quickly. And he did tell this hot sexy babe that he would do ‘it’ with her, what Amelia and I do. Perhaps I should have asked for specifics? Just then, all his theories were confirmed by Jennifer’s next words. "Oh my god; Andrew!" She gasped at an air break for them. "Please fuck me! Oh man, I need it now, I want you to do it!" She almost shouted at him. "What do you mean?" Andrew said while he used his fingers to brush her hair away from her rosy cheeks. Her eyes got big and round and vulnerable. "I.. well... I'm...uh... okay so... I've tried to get close to other guys you know? They were so stupid that I just hated it. Like. Uh! And then Amelia told me about you, and I hoped you weren't so gross, and instead you are really, Like; so good!" Her face blushed red. "I want you to pop my cherry, Andrew!" Andrew was shocked, and his face showed it, making him blush instantly. They were standing with their arms wrapped around each other, both beet red. "Wow!" He said seriously considering whether he really should do it. But looking at her hopeful face. He realized that she had obviously thought about this, and it's what she wanted. That she is trusting him by asking him this, and the inherent secret they two would keep. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Take off your panties, Jennifer." He could see her quiver and blink at him, but she bent down and hooked her panties under her cheer skirt and yanked them down. Kicking them off over her tennis shoes and across the floor. Andrew sat back on the couch and beckoned her onto his lap, she giggled and straddled his hips with her knees and they kissed some more. But this time his fingers went under her skirt and she was moaning and writhing in his lap as he circled her clit and plunged fingers into her fresh virgin pussy. She broke off the kiss with a moan and her back bowing from his magical fingers. "Okay! Okay... I'm ready.. God Andrew... stop.. oh!" He teased her clit and took his fingers out of her wet ready pussy. She leaned over and grabbed her little purse and opened it. Pulling a condom from it's depths and ripped the package open and handed it to him. She was panting, waiting patiently while he gingerly stretched the condom over his head and down his shaft. She watched intently and it felt awkward but he knew this was new to her and she needed to see it. When he was done he pulled her hips close to him so that she could sit on his dick in the right position. Andrew looked into her soft brown eyes as he positioned his dick at her slick entrance and pressed her hips down towards his. Extremely slowly he felt his cock stretch her lips open and begin to enter her, he didn't rush, knowing that going slow made it much easier. "Try to relax your abdomen okay, almost like you want to pee." He said, her eyes were closed and she focused on the sensation. Slowly pressing down on his shaft, knees slipping further apart, her breath hitching in her throat. Andrew stretched his neck out to kiss her collarbone and shoulders, she pushed suddenly and pressed all the way down to take his whole shaft inside her. "Oh!" She said with only a tiny tinge of pain in her voice. "It feels so big inside me, stretching me wide open, oh my god!" It might be overwhelming for her so he didn't begin fucking her yet. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and continued their make out session, in minutes she was writhing again and pumping her own hips against his. Only when he felt her wetness reach his balls did he begin pushing up into her, she was pleasantly surprised and within minutes she was moaning loudly and bouncing in his lap singing his praises. Andrew found Jennifer's loudness to be endearing and hilarious. She also just couldn't shut up and continued to tell him how good it feels, how hot her cunt is and how she is so happy that she came over to do this. His ego expanded two sizes, into very fat and happy and he knew he would be telling Brandon all about this later. Leaving Jennifer’s name out, of course. Jennifer came on his cock, face blushing scarlet and hips grinding his. Just as he pulled out of her still hard, the washer beeped it's cycle done. It made him think of something and he stood up and pulled her along with him. "Come here Jen." He tugged her into the laundry room. Quickly he pulled his clean clothes out and threw them into the dryer and turned it on. He picked up Jennifer and set her on top the dryer, at the perfect height for him to fuck her bright red pussy that he finally got a glance at while spreading her legs and folding up her cheer skirt. "Is this good for the dryer?" She asked just before he pushed his cock back into her, see-sawing until her wetness recovered on the condom. "Oh; oh; oh" She made little cooing noises while he set to work thrusting into her shallowly while the dryer giggled under her ass. Her limbs wrapped around his shoulders and waist as she went along for the ride. The shallow but rough thrusting allowed them to last awhile and Andrew had completely forgotten about the time. No clock in the laundry room, the noise of the dryer muffled everything outside the small space. Which meant he had no idea that his mother had arrived to the sound of a teenage girl moaning somewhere in the house. "Andrew?" She called and got no answer, the sound of love making was obvious and she was surprised that whoever the girl was quite passionate. She didn't remember having that good of sex in her earlier years. She wondered if it was Andrew at all but other people? Finally she walked up to the laundry room, the moaning and voices quite loud and clear now, no mistaking where it was coming from now. The door was cracked and robotically her hand pressed against the door and she took in the sight. A cheerleader was bare assed on her washer while her son was rutting into her pussy. A bright red condom caught her eye and held it.Eliza just stared at her sons cock thrusting into the young lady. Spell bound and quiet she stood in her gym clothing just watching the two mature teens fuck in her laundry room. The noises were obnoxiously loud at this proximity, Jennifer's voice pleading with him. "Oh god Andrew! Oh My God! Andrew! Ah, ah, ah, ah, yeah! Keep going! Don't stop, it's so much! Too much Oh my god!" Her back and shoulders wiggled and she used her grip on his biceps to keep him locked together with her. She began to come, body jerking and flexing and spine bowing. In that moment Andrew looked over and saw his mom. Instead of feeling shame, Andrew felt pride. He was making this girl come so fucking hard for his cock that she was drooling. His mom was staring at his cock, and took a moment to register his face, now turned to hers.Eliza's face went bright red and Andrew slowly gave her a mischievous grin, a silent promise of pleasure in his arms. Liza took a breath, as if to say something, but instead ran away. He could hear her footsteps through the kitchen and down the hall and up the stairs. He held young Jennifer close and let her calm down, completely unknown to her that mom had been a spectator to her orgasm. A deep satisfaction settled over the two teens, that frankly, had very little to do with each other. "Would you like to use the half bath, right here?" Andrew opened up the door leading towards a half bath next to the garage entry door. It was also a storage closet that was extremely convenient for a busy family. Jennifer followed his suggestion, bouncing off the dryer and closed herself into the tiny room. He heard the sink pouring and the cabinet door bounce as she closed it. Andrew was still smiling to himself as he was pulling the condom off his cock and tied it off. Then he tossed it into the trash that was in the laundry room, not caring about hiding it. His mom had already caught him; red dicked. Based on a post by Meow 5 meow [https://www.literotica.com/authors/Meow5meow/works], for Literotica.

My Girlfriend's Neglected Mother: Part 2

MY GIRLFRIEND'S NEGLECTED MOTHER: PART 2 I WAS ASKED TO FILL IN FOR HER HUSBAND? Based on a post by MaryAnderson [https://www.literotica.com/authors/MaryAnderson/works/stories]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/steamy-winter-2026/MyGirlfriendsNeglectedMother2.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/steamy-winter-2026/MyGirlfriendsNeglectedMother2.jpg] 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, Mrs Hollins; 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. DATE WITH HER MOM. "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 modest tits were held 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 ass; 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." She kissed my cheek. Her perfume was light and airy. She 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, then went to the club. We 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 would vote in favor of you doing it again." "Michael, are you flirting with me?" "Just getting started." Mrs. Hollins sat, then took off her ruby heart-shaped earrings/ She 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. She 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, "Come on, 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's text 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," and started unbuttoning my shirt. Then 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 slid off my shirt. Next she pulled my 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?” Mrs. Hollins was now running her nails in circles around my nipples, it was hard to concentrate. “Oh yeah, the boat.” "Very much." I said. 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. "No, Mrs. Hollins. I've wanted you since I first saw you. But I'm sure every boyfriend of Jennie's must have. Why me?" I let go of her nipple, slid my hand up her leg, dragged a fingertip along her pussy slit, worked it around her panties, then sank it inside her. Her tone was seductive as she said, "Maybe because of the happy bounce in my daughter's step when she's been with you. Maybe because you're the only one who admitted it. Maybe because I know you love my daughter and will keep this to the three of us. Maybe because you turn me on." Her hand on my chest moved lower, tracing the muscles of my stomach, and she brought her lips to mine. Her kiss was powerful, and intense. I pushed a second, then a third finger inside her, twisted them, moved them in and out, listened to her soft moan. "I love the way you touch me." Rocking my fingers inside her I worked her clit with my thumb, a teasing circular motion. Her hips moving with me I tugged the tie around her neck and the dress fell from her chest; Mrs. Hollins gasped when chilled air met flushed breasts. I considered taking Mrs. Hollins into my arms and heading for the bedroom, but I wanted it to be a long-term thing, best to give her the full treatment. I covered her right breast, caressed the firm flesh; her nipple throbbed, stiffened. Then, her head on my shoulder, she said, "It's time to unwrap my present," undid my belt and button, unzipped me, pushed a hand inside. "Very nice, thick and fat." Holding her to me I moved my fingers in her cunt, a little faster, a little harder, and rocked my thumb on her clit. The intensity of her moans increased and she was soon jabbing her hips into my hand. I'm going to fuck you, Mrs. Hollins." "Hmm." "Like I fuck your daughter." "Um Hmm." "Fuck you until you can't see straight." "Hmm." "Like I fuck your daughter." "Ah Hmm." "I'll dick you to your heart's delight." "M." "And no one will know, they'll just think I'm balling your daughter, but I'll be balling you." "Um Hmm." "That's what you want isn't it?" "Mmmmnnnnnmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." "Isn't it." "M Hmm" "Say it." "I, I, I..." "Say it." She bit my shoulder and said, "Yes Michael... Um, that's... hmm, what... Um, I want... Hmm." I pulled on her nipple, her moan grew louder and higher in pitch. "Uh " Curling my upper body I took the nipple into my mouth. "I'm..." Licked it, hard. "...fricking...' I Rolled it between my teeth. "...fricking..., fricking..., fricking..." Bit it. "...Cumming." With an animal sound that filled the room her body jerked, her breast ripped from my mouth, and I curled my fingers, jammed them into her g-spot. Pinned on those fingers, she let out a hyena howl and came again. Juice pouring from her, she shook shuddered rattled whimpered, then croaked out, "Stop, stop, stop, please stop, can't... take... any... more." I slid my fingers from her sex and, head buried on my chest, she clung to me, quivering, sucking in air, the orgasm continuing to echo through her wracked lovely form, until she slumped against me and said in a shaky voice, "I'm so glad... I raised... my daughter... to share." I held her awhile, kissed the top of her head, and said, "Maybe its time we got naked." She stood and the dress slipped from her body; Mrs. Hollins, her wiry form the template for her daughter, stood before me, skin flushed, naked but for red silk panties. "You're so hot, Mrs. Hollins." "It's not like you haven't seen it before. Now take off your clothes, it's time I saw what makes my daughter so giddy." I yanked my shoes off, pushed my pants and underwear down, the tip of Mrs. Hollins' tongue sliding on her lower lip as my dick, at full staff, emerged. "I can see why my daughter's so happy. You think you're man enough for two?" "Two ordinary women, or you and Jennie?" Wrapping her hand around it she said, "Me and Jennie, dummy." "I'm not sure any man's up to that, but I'll do my best." She said, "Good answer," pumped the shaft with one hand, cupped and coddled my balls with the other. When a drop of pre-cum emerged she dragged her thumb over the crown and down the underside of my cock, sliding it on the thick slimy liquid. I dropped my head and kissed her; her tongue, like the rest of her, was athletic, limber, and bold. When the kiss ended she smiled, pecked my lips, said, "Why don't you sit down." I did and she knelt, made a show of stretching her jaw, slid her lips over the head of my dick, swirled her tongue, and cradling my balls, moved down, bobbing her head in a slow steady rhythm. "Hmm..." Pleased by my reaction, she reached up, teased my nipples, and after several minutes let me slide from her lips, dragged her tongue up my dick, kissed the crown, said, "Tell me stud, who gives better head, me or my daughter?" This was an opportunity not to be wasted. "Well, if I had to choose I'd insist on a fair competition, controlled environment, side-by-side testing repeated often enough to ensure adequate sample size, with ongoing confirmation and monitoring." She said, "In that case I better practice," sucked a testicle into her mouth, rolled it on her tongue, pushed it out between tightly compressed lips, then swallowed my shaft, worked her mouth up and down. Enthralled, I cupped her head, held it still, and, as she relaxed her jaw and opened her mouth wide, fucked Mrs. Hollins' face. When I let go a deeply aroused Mrs. Hollins swallowed me, rotated her head and moved me around the inside of her mouth, cupped and caressed my balls, slid back up to nurse on the cock-head with hyperactive tongue and lips. If we got that mother-daughter competition going, Mrs. Hollins would be formidable. The pressure kept building in my belly, my hips jerking in hard involuntary motion, and Mrs. Hollins, unfazed, moved her head, adjusting to my increasingly random thrusts. As she bobbed up and down my quivering balls did a little dance, tightened; I cried out, "So good," exploded. Cum poured into her mouth and, with muffled squeals, she drank voraciously, let none escape, then drove her face into me, concave cheeks vacuuming cum from my balls, and I came again, blasting another jet into her mouth. Ths time a few drops seeped from the edge of her lips, dripped down her chin onto a breast, gathered at the nipple. Sliding to the floor I said, "Jeezum, you, and Jennie, you're savants." Mrs. Hollins leaned her body against mine, said, "Maybe she and I can compare notes, be learn something from each other," kissed me, reached between our bodies, ran a fingertip up and down my dick, which, thoroughly enjoying the patient sweet attention, started to harden. After several minutes she wrapped her fingers around my restored erection and said, "Ready?" "I've been ready." She lay on her back and, hooking my fingers in her panties, I peeled them from her moist pussy - they clung for a moment - pulled them off her body, slid my finger through wet labial lips. "You have a pretty pussy Mrs. Hollins. Nice and smooth." She moaned, then purred, "Y'now, you can call me Theresa." "Somehow Mrs. Hollins is sexier." "As you please, stud. Now fuck me, fuck Jennie's Mama." I rolled between her legs, she placed me on the entrance of her sex, I began to move inside her, she winced, not a lot, but enough. "You okay?" "Yeah, it's been ages and you're a lot bigger than my husband. Do you mind if I get on top, get used to you first?" Saying, "No, it's among my favorite position," I pulled out of her, rolled onto my back. She got on her knees, swung a leg over my calves, bent at the waist, took my dick in her mouth, caressed it with warm lips and velvety tongue, thoroughly wetting me, moved back to the vertical and, frigging my shaft walked forward on her knees, slid my cock on the face of her swollen sex, coating it with juice, took my cock-head inside herself, rocked her hips, and with a low moan said, "God, I've missed this," and moved down my length, sometimes stopping, sometimes retreating, occasionally flexing her pussy, stretching herself, augmenting the copious flow of cunt cream. She moved her hands to my chest, leaned forward, kept going, letting a pussy that had stopped receiving regular work-outs adjust itself to me. When I was all the way in she curled her fingers in my chest hair, moved her hips in an oval, said, "Damn, I see why my daughter can't get enough. Now let's try this." Moving her hands down my body until they were beside my knees, holding herself up on her arms, she leaned back, displaying her taut tight body, dropped her head, her shoulder length hair falling behind her, tightened her cunt, and rocked her hips. The motion was slight, no more than an inch, but in this position the floor of her cunt clung to the underside of my cock and the visual of her lithe undulating body was divine. Letting out a long low groan, I moved with her. After several happy minutes she lifted her head, opened her eyes, and with a crooked smile said, "So stud, is my pussy as good as you imagined?" "Yeah, amazing." She held out her hand, I grasped it, and pulling herself forward she lowered her torso to mine. I slid my arms around her waist, pressed my lips to hers, held her tight, ground into her. When the kiss ended she nestled her head to my neck and said softly in my ear, "Do you love my daughter?" "Yes." Placing her hands on the floor, she pushed herself up and sitting astride me, moved the hair from her face and said, "Good, she loves you too honey, and in this family we share what we love. Can you live with that?" then placed a finger on her lips shushing me before I could answer, squeezed her powerful cunt muscles, raised herself until only my cock-head remained inside her, squeezed, and slowly again, and in complete control of her body slid down and said, "So, can you live with that?" My voice more hurried than I'd anticipated, I said, "Definitely yes. You're right, one should share their good fortune." Tuning her limber body to the side she grabbed two pillows off the couch, said, "You're about to find out how good your fortune is going to be," twisted off me, lay on the rug, stuffing one pillow under her ass, the other under her head. I rolled between spread legs, kissed her; she moaned against my lips, moaned when I entered her. We fucked, at first in a slow rhythm, acclimating to each other, making sure she was ready, but she needed this and I wanted this and soon her arms were around my neck, her muscular legs around my waist, and her short nails pressed to my back as she purred into my ear, "You feel so good inside me, fuck me, fuck me hard." I worked my lips down her neck, she dropped her head back, offering more soft skin. I kissed her there, ducked my head, sucked a nipple. Her fingers entwined themselves in my hair, brought my head to hers. She thrust her tongue into my mouth. We fucked, fast and hard; I drove into her, her hips rose to meet each thrust, she tightened her legs on me, her thighs trembling on my sides. We howled in libidinous harmony. "Oh yes, like that, fuck me, like that." Our bodies smacked together in raucous rhythm. Her pussy pulsated, my dick throbbed. I dug my fingers into her shoulders, held her in place, thrust into her hard, we bounced forward on the rug. My orgasm fast approaching, I worked her clit with my pubic bone, pushed a hand between our bodies, rolled a nipple between two fingers. She arched her back, forcing clit and tit into me. "I love this, love this, harder, harder, fuck me, harder." Her spasming cunt flexed on my cock. "Oh, yeah." "I can teach you young-un's a thing or two." And that she could. She flexed the muscles of her cunt, running them the length of my tool, grabbed my backside, shimmied her sex on me. The pressure inside me kept building, it was as if I was holding in a piss too long, way too long. Struggling to control myself, I gritted my teeth, fucked her harder. And when it felt like I could wait no longer Mrs. Hollins dug her fingers into my back, locked her ankles on my ass, said, "Fuck yes, yeah, yeah, that's it, that's it, that's it, Michael that's it, oh yes, yes, yes ee ah," and, cunt convulsing, body shaking, squealing in a pitch I hadn't imagined she could reach, she sang, "Fuck Yes, I'm coming," as her world exploded. And, as she came, the pressure inside me finally let go and growling, driving Mrs. Hollins into the floor, thick ropy spurts of cum shot from my dick into her core. Spent, sweaty, I slumped onto her body. A sweet gentle aching permeated my balls, ran to my prostate, and though my right ear wasn't working and the vision of my left eye was hazy, I felt great. I lay there, just wanting to take it easy. Mrs. Hollins, who was stroking my body, said, 'You still with us?" "Yeah..." She nudged me and I rolled onto on my back; she lay her head to my shoulder, played with my nipples as my chest rose and fell. After awhile she said, "Can you hand me my phone?" It was on the coffee table. I stretched for it, gave it to her, said, "Why do you want your phone?" "I need to text my daughter, tell her you passed the audition." The next morning I was stretched out naked on Mrs. Hollins' bed, enjoying the lingering taste of her pussy in my mouth. Mrs. Hollins, also naked, was on her back, her head resting on my thigh, talking to Jennie. "A great present, everything I imagined. What that's..., okay, I'll ask him." She rolled onto her elbows facing me and said, "Jennie got hit on by a cute college guy last night, she wants to know if it would have been okay for her to go home with him. After all, you were doing her mother." "Tell her no, but she can do my mother." "He said no honey, but you can do his mother." She turned back to me and said, "She said your mother doesn't turn her on." "Okay, she can do her mother." Returning to the phone she said, "Oh, you heard him. Okay, I'll tell him." "She said you have a deal." I was helping Mr. Hollins load luggage into the Range Rover when he said, "I really appreciate you're staying here while I'm out of town Michael. I know it's inconvenient for school, but with those recent break-ins in the neighborhood it will make the ladies feel safer." "Happy to help sir." That summer, at the most expensive restaurant I could afford, I asked Mr. Hollins for his daughter's hand in marriage. Delighted by the gesture, he enthusiastically welcomed me to the family. The following evening I was eating dinner at their house when Mr. Hollins said, "Have you two love-birds set a wedding date?" We hadn't, of course. I had to borrow the money for the simple gold band that served as our engagement ring and didn't expect Jennie to live in my one room hovel. I said, "No sir, I fear we'll need to wait until I graduate." Mrs. Hollins said, "I don't see why true love should be delayed," turned to her husband and said, "How about the mother-in-law suite we built onto the house for your mother. It has a separate entrance and all the privacy they could want. We could do a small civil wedding here at the house, wait until they graduate for the big event." Mr. Hollins said, "Honey, isn't that where you sleep when my snoring gets bad?" "Well, there's two bedrooms, I'm sure the kids won't mind an occasional visit." Mrs. Hollins showed the string quartet where to set up, then checked her tablet. Everything was ready and the guests would not arrive for an hour. Calling her husband over she said, "I'm going to check on the kids, text me if anything comes up." She found her daughter naked and leaning over her bed bellowing in orgasmic fury as I, jamming my cock into her from behind, fed her pussy a heavy load of creamy hot cum. As Jennie, gasping for air, slumped onto the bed, Mr. Hollins scooped the cunt cream-cum combo flowing from her daughter's sex, brought the finger to her mouth, and dropping to her knees said, "Jennie, traditionally it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony, so why don't you go and start getting ready, I'll come check on you when I'm done here," and took my cock into her mouth. Jennie sleepily shook the hair out of her eyes, said, "Yes Mama," kissed me, a long hot one, and added, "It's amazing, soon I'll be Mrs. Michael Judge. Mrs. Hollins, having resuscitated my dick, stood, kissed her daughter's mouth, turned, placed her hands on the bed, spread her legs, and said, "Yes, and I'll be his mother-in-law." I pulled my future mother-in-law's green dress up, entered her panty-less pussy. There aren't many weddings where the groom's sperm is dripping down two women's legs when the bride says, "I do." To be continued. Based on a post by MaryAnderson [https://www.literotica.com/authors/MaryAnderson/works/stories], for Literotica.

My Girlfriend's Neglected Mother: Part 1

MY GIRLFRIEND'S NEGLECTED MOTHER: PART 1 HOT MOM, HOT DAUGHTER, IS ANYONE COMPLAINING? Based on a post by MaryAnderson [https://www.literotica.com/authors/MaryAnderson/works/stories]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/steamy-winter-2026/MyGirlfriendsNeglectedMother1.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/steamy-winter-2026/MyGirlfriendsNeglectedMother1.jpg] 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 [https://www.literotica.com/authors/MaryAnderson/works/stories], for Literotica.

Female Husbandry

FEMALE HUSBANDRY SOMETIMES EXCITING THINGS HAPPEN AT WORK, EVEN FARM WORK. Based on a post by Farmerjill [https://www.literotica.com/authors/Farmerjill/works]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/summer-2025_202506/FemaleHusbandry.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/summer-2025_202506/FemaleHusbandry.jpg] You think Farming is Boring? Maybe Not! My name is Connor Dixon and I am a beef farmer. I don't think farming is boring, I really like it but I know most people do. When I go to a function from my wife's work it is always the same. "What do you do?" They ask me. "I am a farmer." I tell them. Then it goes one of three ways, there is the joke route which usually ends in something like "where's the beef?" kind of thing. Then there is the inane question route, "do brown cows make brown milk?" Finally there is the change the topic, hope this guy goes away route. Yes, some people are really interested or are related to a farmer but that happens less and less as fewer and fewer people are farmers. I don't understand what is so exciting about sitting in a cubicle everyday and staring at a computer screen. Most people have boring jobs, even firemen spend most of the time doing boring things. Thank God that they aren't having to save people and fight fires every minute like on tv, but come on, hanging around a firehall for 24 hrs is boring day in day out. Now having said that, I will admit that farming does have some boring moments. The summer is busy but it is pretty unexciting. I grow beef so that means, cut hay, rake hay, bale hay and put hay away-then repeat. Driving around those same fields can get a little monotonous. Yes, you have to pay attention to what is going on because things can go wrong in an instant but usually it is pretty dull. That is why you have to enjoy the little things that happen during the day that spice things up. Sometimes you get to see a fawn and it's mother come out into the field. Other times you are up early and the sun rise is just extra special. Pulling a calf out of a cow in distress is always exciting, and usually really messy. Of course there are the times when you meet up with a fellow farmer and you stop your tractor next to his and share important information. This can be very exciting depending on who did what to whom and when and where. Of course we talk farm stuff too but most people tell me long term weather forecasts and crop futures are boring. Last of all are the moments we farmers cherish, the moments that really put a spring in our step and a smile on our faces. I will give you an example. I rent or own 11 pieces of land and they are not continuous so I have to drive between them. One of the pieces I rent is owned by a nice widow who lives at the corner of 2 gravel roads. She has a house on the north side and she quite often is not home visiting her kids and grand kids in town. On the east gravel road a family of 4 lives. Mom and dad are in their late 20s or early 30s and their children are about 5 and 6. I say hi to them when I see them and if I do see them, I usually tell them what I'm up to and when. You don't want to be cutting hay during a birthday party or something like that. The guy told me his name once but I'll admit I don't remember it. The woman who has never told me her name is what makes my days sometimes very exciting. You see she likes to wear tight short. It seems to me after 5 years of driving around her house working on hay that she is still wearing the shorts she had before she had kids. She has kept a few baby pounds on her and that makes her shorts tight, too small, and very exciting. From the rear you can see just a little bit of her bum coming out of her shorts. That really turns me on. The shorts are also always so tight that you can't see any panty lines. She unfortunately doesn't own any "daisy dukes' but the ones she does own are different colors but all of them are of a material that makes them like a second skin. Now when you see her from the front it gets even better. I love camel toes. Sometimes my wife wears something that gives her a camel toe and it always gets a rise out of me. The problem is my wife always wears panties and she always "fixes it" when she sees me drooling. It was not always like this however when we were young, she would wear tight shorts and it lead to great sex. So now I have to watch her at the right moment and there will a little bit of a camel toe but nothing like what this woman from the east gravel road house has! Her shorts ride right up her slit and her lips are so plump! It is the most enticing camel toe I have ever scene. Every time I see it my cock starts to get hard and I just want to stop the tractor and bury my face in it. Then if there is still time, I look at her top. Her t-shirts are also very tight and she doesn't seem to ever wear bras. She has these baseball size tits that are still quite firm after the kids. When she walks, they don't bounce as much a jiggle. It is a sight to behold. Her t-shirts also tend to be in light colors so when the sun hits them right or water gets on them, they are see through. She has nice little button nipples and big areolas. It is a sight to behold. I sometimes have trouble steering trying to look at her ass or camel toes or jiggly boobs. I also am very disappointed when she is not around, which is most of the time. Some of you might be wondering at this point about what her face looks like. It is fine enough, no buck teeth, or crooked warted nose, but who cares anyway with all the rest she has going on! GETTING PLUGGED. The reason I am telling you this is because last June when I was baling hay my baler pick up got plugged. This happens sometimes but it is usually not to hard to unplug. I pulled out the canvas tarp I keep rolled up by the fender. Since I was shirtless, I spread it out, then laid on it while I began clearing out the clog. There I was under the baler pulling out the mass of hay when the most amazing thing happened. I was getting near done when I noticed, out of the corner of my eye; the woman was walking toward me. I don't know if she could see my face but all I could see was that camel toe approaching. I was sure that her shorts were even tighter that day, so it was looking really plump and inviting. As she moved closer, I was certain I could even see a little nub at the top of the slit; which must be her clit. At this point I should mention that I am wearing coveralls and boots. Under my coveralls are just a pair of thin cotton boxers. I am so preoccupied with the rapidly approaching camel toe that I don't really realize I am hard. When she got closer, I made sure I got back to working on the baler. "I m Mindy. Looks like you are having a bad day, or maybe a hard day?" Wow, I can't believe that this 20 something babe is flirting with me! I might be 54, but I'm sure she is flirting, because she made the word "hard" 2 syllables. She used this deep throaty growl for the "h" which then morphed into a sultry "ard." The way she says hard is so exhilarating it makes me harder. I manage to reply, "Sometimes this stuff happens, it will be fixed soon." "You sure look hot and sweaty down there. I bet you could use some lemonade to brighten up your day." It must have been heat stroke because before I engaged my brain I replied, "My day is already brighter seeing you in those shorts, and lemonade would be nice. I drank all of my water." She giggled. I made this woman giggle; and now she was off to get me lemonade! Of course I watched her beautiful ass walk all the way back to the house. Then I redoubled my efforts, so I would be done when she came back. When I saw her leaving the house with two glasses of lemonade, I was just finishing up, so I stood up so I could shake the hay off the tarp. Then I spread it out again, behind the big tractor wheel, where a late afternoon shade helped me cool down. When she came around the tractor, I was sitting with my back leaning on the tractor. She knelt down facing me, then handed me the lemonade; and then asked me a question, "I can't believe you like these old shorts. Your just trying to be nice. Do you really like them?" All of my blood was in my cock, and it was doing all the thinking and talking for me, "Are you kidding! You look positively stunning, if I was your husband and saw you in those, I would be on you in a second." She then did an incredible thing. She placed her two hands on the front of her shorts palms down. As she moved her hands up her shorts, she then continued speaking, "These old things, he doesn't even notice. When he comes home from work, he just gets a beer, I don't even get a kiss." The motion of her hands while she said this, was mesmerizing. Her efforts resulted in an even bigger and fuller camel toe! "If it was me, I would take one look at your ass in those shorts and I would give you a kiss that curled your toes, then I would go upstairs to our bedroom and get that coin jar we have on the dresser. I would take it outside and throw it all over the back yard. Then I would get the kids and tell them there was $17.93 out there and if they could find it all they could have it. That would keep them busy for a good hour I figure. Then I would pick you up plop you on the counter and lick your camel toe right through your shorts." She stopped my dialogue at that point and told me; I am a more visual person. You should show me what you mean. So I leaned forward and brought her in close and gave her an enthusiastic kiss. Then I laid her down on the tarp and proceeded to lick her camel toe. She started to grind her shorts into my face and I took that as a signal to pull her shorts down. What a set of lips! They were engorged with blood and begging to be worshiped. I started licking the one on the left and then moved to the right. By the time I starting sucking on them, she came! I then started to probe her slit with my tongue. She really liked that! When I started to alternate between licking her clit and fucking her with my tongue, she started to shake. I figured she was getting really close, so I took her clit in my mouth and started to suck. She screamed and squirted all over my face. Then she begged me to stop so I went up for the baseballs. Under that t-shirt were two of the most amazing tits I have ever made love too. They were a perfect handful. Her nipples were pretty sensitive, and I just love to get my whole mouth around her areolas. While I was doing that, she undid the snaps on my coveralls and they fell down. I stood and took off my boots so the Osh Kosh could fall right off. She then pulled off my very tented sweaty white boxers. She really seemed impressed with my Fat Turgid phallic farmer, and started to drop down to her knees, as I leaned back on the big tractor tire. I had to tell her it was pretty sweaty down there." "I like hot and sweaty; especially your nice sweaty and swollen cock. Your manly aroma brings out a lustful passion in me" What a woman! I'm not sure my cock could get harder at this point, but if it could, it did. She then proceeded to give me an all-star blow job. As you can imagine, I did not last long, and soon I was shooting ropes of cum into her mouth. As I expelled my third blast, she continued a soft tongue-stroking on the underside of my shaft.  Opening my eyes again, I saw her pretty blue eyes looking up to mine, and smiling as she slowly slid her mouth off my cock. As my todger dropped from her tight lips, I saw her smile brightly, a creamy drool seaping down from the side of her mouth.  Then her long tongue skillfully swept the wayward jizz back in, followed by a happy swallow. I slid sown the wheel rim til I was seated, and naked, I finished off the lemonade. We took a little break after that as she drank her lemonade. She finished hers and put her glass down, and started to stroke my cock. I was so keyed up, it was already semi hard. She soon had it ready to go. She pushed me back and climbed her naked curvy body aboard my hips. After 2 kids she was surprisingly tight. It felt amazing as she worked my cock like a champ. Gawd, your thick monster is so good! She declared. I had the privilege of watching her breasts jiggle with every move she made. Soon she had the angle just right and her climax was imminent. As I reached up to fondle her breasts, her eyes rolled back in her head and she came. It must have been intense because she stopped moving and then slumped onto my chest. When she finally looked up into my eyes, I told her we needed to change positions. Obviously, I wanted to do her doggy style after lusting after her butt for 5 years. She slid to my side and lifted one leg high. I rolled out and knelt between her spread knees, her head resting on her forearms, on the corner of the tarp. It was now all about me, and I was out to "ride her hard and put her away wet." I just let loose, pounding into her open cunt like there was no tomorrow. Apparently, she really liked what I was doing because soon she was slamming back as I hammered forward. I had already cum once, so I was in for the long haul and it was heaven. Her ass looked even better while I fucked her than it did in those shorts. I watched as my thick shaft pistoned her, the skin of her lips stretching outward as I retracted, then consume my phallus as I penetrated, to the stretched far end of her womb. All good things must cum to an end, however; and when she started to climax again, that sent me over the edge and I joined her euphoria. Completely spent I slumped to the ground beside her, to catch my breath. She did the same as she spooned into me. Her shoulder ust under my extended arm. She pulled the arm down and placed my palm on her lower tit. Taking a queue, I reached my upper arm around, and palmed her other tit. We laid there, savoring the moment. Perhaps  to 8 minutes passed, then her ass started a subtle wiggle and my cock twitched. Problem was, I had to finish baling. I thanked her for such kindness. She said the honor was her s. Adding that her body needed some intimate attention for several days, now.  Soon enough she was back in her clothes and headed to the house after one more steamy kiss. I may want to do this again, when I need more than I m getting.  I was back on the tractor and after watching her ass return to her house, I resumed my work. I never saw her again that summer but one more exciting thing did happen. I was back at that same field, But the young mother was soon driving off with the two little kids. As I was cutting the second cut in late August. I thought I saw her back in the driveway, stepping out of a different vehicle. She waved, but it wasn't her. it was someone similar but a bit older. As I continued to drive around the field, I continued to study this new woman, washing her car. I concluded it was her mom. She was wearing very blue tight shorts, I think they were stretchy like yoga pants, but shorts, instead. Very tight and nice to look at. She wore a white cotton halter top. The mom was bigger than her daughter, more the size of cantaloupes than baseballs. There was certainly more sag but there also was no bra involved and the bouncing was great to watch. I finished cutting the hay and stopped to put my disc mower into travel mode. I was pretty close to the house at this point and the woman waved to me. I waved back, and called hello. She waved me over to where she held the garden hose, and since I had sunglasses on, I could fully scope her out without looking like a perv. She definitely had nice tits that bounced with every step. Her top was wet from hosing down the car, revealing dark circles, and pointed tenting of the translucent cloth. The nipples were bigger than her daughter but the areolas seemed proportionately smaller. The camel toe however was divine! She had pulled up her shorts before I came over when she thought I wasn't looking. Her lips seemed even puffier than her daughter s, and her slit was a darker shade of blue than the rest of her shorts. This could only mean one thing, that she was hot to trot and ready to rock; I mean fuck. My cock of course, rose to the occasion in my coveralls. She made sure to take a long look down at my thick farmer pole. She didn't even try the lemonade route. She just was blunt and we got down to business. "I m Betty. Mindy s gone with the kids til 4.Looks like you re having a good ha-ard day," she said with the same two syllable pronunciation and a twinkle in her eye. I concluded that this was a set up, and I better take advantage quick. Haying follows a predictable pattern. Depending on the weather, 3 or 4 days after cutting is raking. Then later that day or the following day is baling. Thus the daughter had obviously known when to have mom come over. Soon we were making out like no tomorrow. I had to feel that camel toe so I moved my hand down to the front of her spandex shorts and traced the outline with my finger. She definitely was wet; she had soaked the front of the shorts. She also was ready to go and started to hump my hand. I quickly peeled off her shorts and rolled them down. My finger found her clit and I started to circle it. She moaned into my kiss and I then knelt down to taste her. I helped her scoot up onto the back trunk of her Cadillac. I was just starting to work on her, when she climaxed. She laid there, naked with her knees up for a minute, Then she didn't waste any time sliding off the car and getting me out of my coveralls and boxers. Then she pulled my cock along as she walked over to the hammock, strung between two Oak Trees. She set me crossways, across the double hammock and knelt on the grass. Her mouth skills were very developed, and my cock was down her throat in seconds. The pleasure was immense, but she wanted to savor my thick meat in her cunt, so she stopped before my cream erupted in her warm throat. Pulling me to my feet, she the laid face-down on the hammock, her weight supported by her arms, and urged me to plow her depths. I knelt on the grass and soon had her ass slapping my hips as the hammock rocked our action. She was laid over and I was balls deep in her pussy. I got on my feet and squatted, my knees wide as I thrusted into her compressed pussy. I couldn't help but reach under her and grab her swinging tits. I tried my best to hold off, but this all was too much for me and I exploded in her. As I pulled out, she let out a sad sigh and inquired if I was ready or able for more? "I hope you're not done because I'm not finished with you." She then had me lay on the hammock, then she straddled over my in 69; and started a gentle process of calling my cock back into the game. I was licking her clit while my fingers fondled her cunt and asshole. She took my cock in her mouth and started to deep throat me. When she had me fully lodged, she started to do this humming thing and I was rock hard. Taking my cock in hand she twisted her body sideways, then looked me in the eye, "I need this in my ass. Use the mess in my pussy for lube." Now I have to take a minute to tell you how much I love anal sex. My wife is not a fan, so I get it exactly two times a year, on my birthday and when I use my coupon. My wife made me a coupon I can use once a year for anal. Let me tell you, no other decision I make receives the amount of attention that I give to using that coupon! So it was my pleasure to oblige this lady and give her what she wanted. I laid her on her back because missionary is best for anal. You can play with her pussy or tits while you fuck. She was right that there was plenty of our combined fluids to lube her up and soon I was pumping into her ass at a steady pace. The flowing of the hammock s motions just added to the thrill. It was like my college days, when waterbeds were the fad. She clearly was enjoying herself, so I started to use my thumb on her clit. Taking her cantaloupes in hand, she soon was sucking on her own nipples and that was driving me wild. I increased the pace in her ass and I could feel her orgasm building. I decided she should share her nipples so while she worked on the one on the left, I took care of the one on the right. This was driving her wild and when she was almost there, I lightly bit her nipple and she exploded in ecstasy. I continued to plow into her until I filled her bowels with my second load. After resting with her for a while, I offered to help her finish washing her Sedan De Ville. Buck naked we used the sponge in the soapy pail, to shower off each other. Then we gave the car a 2nd scrub, followed by a thorough rinse. All the while we were buck naked. My willy was flopping and my sack was swinging. But the best sight was her pendulous naked tits swaying and rocking as she sponged the luxury car. My body air-dried by the time the car was clean. I got dressed as she stepped over to the gazebo, to grab her phone, which was propped up on the table. Connor, what s your cell number? She asked. I told her, and soon my phone dinged, from the hip pocket. I sent you a text, and a link to my private cloud storage. It s to the video we just made. After a lingering kiss, I got back on the tractor I couldn't help but think to myself, that next time my wife has a work party I'll tell all those city people who has the more exciting job! I got to see two babes in tight shorts and braless tight t-shirts at work, I also had the pleasure of not just seeing but tasting two of the sweetest camel toes ever. I got fucked by a mother and daughter in the same field on different days. Moreover, I don't even know their names! I bet they can't say that they had that kind of summer in their miserable little office boxes. If that isn't exciting then I don't know what is! I could hardly wait for the next party. Wait a minute I can't say any of that. I guess at the next one of my wife's parties I will just be the boring farmer with the shit-eating grin on his face say nothing.  Based on a post by Farmerjill [https://www.literotica.com/authors/Farmerjill/works], for Literotica. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories].