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Offers I Couldn't Refuse: Part 2

OFFERS I COULDN'T REFUSE: PART 2 MY WIFE’S MOB KIN FOLK. 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/OffersICouldntRefuse2.mp3] at Connected [https://feeds.feedburner.com/connected-podcast]. [https://archive.org/download/fall-2025/OffersICouldntRefuse.jpg] There was a crash in the living room and Paulie Toucan's head popped in the semi open door. "Hey you love birds, where you want the tree?" Three more heads looked around the door. Donna and I scrambled for our clothes. "Don't get dressed on my account," said the pickpocket. "Don't you believe in knocking? What broke out there?" I asked, shielding Donna from their gaze as she got decent. "Did something break?" asked the stupid looking one. "I heard something smash," I replied, pushing my way out to the living room. There was the tree, or part of the tree sitting in the room on top of my glass top coffee table that now was in a thousand pieces. The top part of the tree was still out the door in the hallway and out the common entry door. "I thought you said you were going to cut it," I said furiously. "We are. We needed to measure first. Okay boys, start measuring," Toucan said. "Why didn't you leave it outside until it was cut?" asked Donna, now fully dressed. "We're not gonna cut it outside and wake everybody up. That wouldn't be nice," said the one that looked smarter than he probably was. "Look what you did to my table!" I shouted. "Shush. you'll wake the neighbors," said Stupid. "We need to cut it right here," said the pickpocket, putting the measuring tape away. Toucan dug a circular saw out from under three and plugged it in. I didn't think it would be any louder than a vacuum cleaner, but I didn't count on it being one from hell. "What's this thing made of, it won't cut," shouted Paulie. He tried again and smoke started wafting up from the tree trunk, but as far as cutting it, not a scratch. "That's a new blade, I just put it on before we came over," screamed the smart looking one over the din. I noticed that we were getting an audience at the doorway. I looked outside and could see more and more lights going on the other buildings as the saw wailed on. Sure enough, one of our township's finest was suddenly standing in my place with his arms crossed. That's usually not a good sign. Paulie noticed the man in dark blue and said, "Hi Tony. You want to take a look at this thing. I can't get it to cut." "Shit, somebody called the cops," I complained. "Nobody called this in, I heard it, driving by." He turned his attention to Paulie. "Why are you doing this at three o'clock in the morning?" "This was supposed to be a one and done deal, as a favor to the little lady," he replied, pointing to Donna. "But it won't cut." He kicked the tree. "Let me see the thing," said Tony. "Pull the plug and get me a screwdriver. Who put the blade on this thing?" "I did," said the smart-looking one, all proud of himself. "You're an idiot," stated the cop, as if it were as plain as the nose on Toucan's face. See, I called that one. "You put it on backwards." Tony made the switch and said, "Plug it in and try that." Paulie tried again, and the saw cut through the tree like a hot knife through butter. "Hey, thanks Tony," said Toucan. "You done making noise now?" Tony asked. "Yep, all done," I said, wishing everyone would go away. Tony left, and eventually so did the crowd. Between the six of us, we managed to get the tree up, transfer the decorations, the lights, and clean up the shattered coffee table. Paulie asked the boys to wait for him outside and turned his attention back to us. "Sorry about the screw up, tonight. As far as the table goes, I'll find you another," he said to me. "Now young lady, is there anything else I can do for you, this morning?" "I was wondering. Do you have any idea where my dad is? I haven't heard from him since my mom and him split up. She says she doesn't have a clue where he is," she said, sounding depressed. "She doesn't? Huh," he replied, rubbing his chin. "I'll put out some feelers, and see what I can find out." "Thanks for even trying," said Donna, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "No problem. My pleasure," he said. Then he turned to me. "Try not to be such a douche bag," he said and left. I was tired; but before I headed to the bedroom, I looked at the tree. "It really turned out nice." "I knew it would," Donna said, stifling a yawn. "I'm going to bed." ATTIC TREASURES AND TALES. "Junior!" Pop shouted, breaking Ralphie's concentration. "Did you find the box of ornaments?" "Yeah Pop, here." he said handing the box down the ladder. "Your Mother will be relieved that you found it. What are you doing up here?" Ralph Senior asked. "You told me to go through all the boxes before we donate them. I found some of my old grade school stuff, and was looking it over, that's all." "Are these the boxes that are going to the Goodwill?" he asked, looking up through the hatchway. "Yeah, here you go," Junior said, passing them along to his dad. Settling back under the light, he continued to read. CHRISTMAS EVE. "Ralph get up!" I'd just closed my eyes. Why does my groin hurt? "Ralph, you promised to take me to the store so we could be first in line!" "What time is it?" I asked, trying to focus my eyes. "It's five-thirty, come on!" she said, shaking me. "Five-thirty...am?" "Come on, let's go!" she said, waving a cup of coffee under my nose. LAST DAY OF SHOPPING. It was still dark out when we stood in front of JC Pennys and it was cold. At least they were opening early. The parking lot was filling fast and the crowd was growing. I felt bad for whoever it was, that going to open that door. "I can't wait to get you your present," she said. "Don't go spending your money on me," I answered, watching my breath float away. "Are you kidding, look at this wad of cash," she said, waving her money in the air. "Put that away, are you nuts?" I barked, looking to see if anyone noticed. A short, balding man in glasses, was at the door. "Now, I want everyone to take it easy coming in," he shouted through the glass. "There's plenty of everything for everyone." He turned the lock and just barely made it out of the way as Donna and the crowd lunged forward. "Take your time!" he shouted, which had exactly the reverse effect. CHECKING OUT. By nine o'clock, we were working on our second round of stuff, and Donna didn't seem to show any sign of slowing down. Everything she bought was on sale or closeout. She was very good at stretching a buck. "How much cash do you have?" I whispered into her ear. "About four-twenty," she answered. "Taxes killed me." "How much do you think is in here," I asked, meaning the carts. "If my math is right, about seventy five," she replied. "How much more do you need to get?" I asked, having lost track of this person, and that aunt. "I think I'm about done except for wrapping supplies," she replied. She loaded the second cart with wrap, bows, ribbon, tags, and tape and headed toward the checkout line. "I still have to get your present, that's going to require me doing it alone. If you want to, we can split up now." "Do you need the car?" I asked. "If it's okay with you," she replied. "Okay," I said. "I'll meet you out front in an hour. Is that enough time?" I asked, handing her money to cover my stuff in the carts. "Yep, I know what I'm getting." We parted ways and I headed right back to the coat section. Donna was still wearing the same coat and sweater that she wore in ninth grade and they were well past their prime. Thanks to my snooping, I knew her sizes, and soon I'd picked out a few blouses, and a new pair of jeans; to go along with the coat and sweater. They also had pajamas on sale, with matching robe and slippers. Perfect. I was set; and soon outside waiting for her. It was only a few minutes before she pulled up. "All done?" we asked in unison. I tossed the bag in the back seat and Donna drove us home. WRAPPING UP AND SUCKING OFF. I wasn't much help to Donna when we got home. I brought one load of gifts in, and flopped on the bed. I must have been dead to the world, because I never even noticed Donna lie down next to me, and cover us with a blanket. When I woke, Donna was an inch away from my face; snoring like a drunken sailor. As I glanced out the window, I noticed three things; One was that it was getting dark out, two it was snowing, and three, Paulie Toucan was waving at me on the other side of the glass. When he saw that he had my attention, he motioned to me to open the window. I did. "Hey Douche Bag, I got that table I told ya about," he said, then blow in his hands. "That fast?" I asked. "I told ya last night it was no problem. Different size packages fall off the back of trucks all the time. So, ah, ya gonna let us in, or do we just stuff it through the window?" he asked, shaking from the cold. I opened the front door, and he and Paulie Asshole carried it in. It was an elegant looking mahogany, glass top coffee table. It was a light year better than my old one. Words escaped me. "I don't know what to say." "Fuckin' figures," said Asshole. "There's no need to say anything, but a simple thank you would be nice, Douche Bag." Toucan said. "Thank you. Now, why do you keep calling me that?" I asked. "What?" asked Paulie Toucan, looking at Paulie Asshole as if he really didn't know. "You know, Douche Bag," I replied. "That's your name, isn't it?" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "No, it's Ralph." "I thought it was his name," he said; and turned toward Asshole, "Didn't you think it was his name?" "Yeah, I thought it fuckin' fit him perfect," Asshole replied. "Well, I hate to break up this magic moment here, but we got to get back to the tree lot. Say hello to your sweetheart for me; and tell her I passed on the word about her pop," and out they went. After admiring my new table, I went to check on Donna. She was sitting up on the bed wanting to know what was going on. I told her about the table, and about Paulie's message. That put her in a good mood. "How are you feeling?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders, "Okay." "I mean down there," she said pointing at my groin. "Oh, it's still kind of sore," I replied, not kidding around. "Let's have a look," she said, tugging at my belt. She pulled my pants and underwear down. "Uh oh." "Uh oh what?" I said looking down. She turned on the desk lamp and I saw the 'uh oh'. I was black and blue from the base of little Ralphie, up to an inch from my navel. "Do you feel okay other than just being sore?" she asked, not sure whether to laugh or cry. "It doesn't hurt much other than to touch it. I don't think we'll be, you know," I said, making humping motions with my hands, "Any time soon." "Does this still work?" she asked tapping mini me. She got her answer quickly. "You got hurt yesterday and didn't get to enjoy it. I'm going to do something I never did before. I don't know if I'm going to like it or not, but I'm willing to give it a shot, considering I'm the one that injured you." She reached over and put on her Groucho glasses. "If I were you, I'd really try to enjoy this; because it might be the only time I ever do it." She pulled me close to the bed and took my cock in her mouth. Never taking her hands off my thighs, she used just her lips and tongue over the head and top of the shaft. The feeling was silky, soft, and it kind of tickled. At first, I thought that I could last forever because there was little or no friction. I tried to look down and watch her, but her hair was blocking the view. I closed my eyes and enjoyed myself like she suggested. Just as I was about to tell her that nothing was going to happen, a strange tingling sensation started on the underside and base of  ‘little Ralphie.’ It slowly moved up to the tip like a slow burning fuse. My thighs shook and I gasped, as a jet blasted out and caught Donna off guard. She pulled her mouth off me, gagged, and coughed. What was still down there shot out on her cheeks and neck. "I'm sorry!" I said, grabbing her some tissues. "I think it might be a while before we try that again," she replied between coughs. FOOD AND DRINK. Monday, before I came home, I went across the bridge to Jersey and got myself a six-pack of Miller and a bottle of pink wine for Donna. She was busy cooking food for Christmas Day, including a big boneless ham. All we had to do was stick the stuff back in the oven to heat it up and eat. There was enough food there to last us the rest of the week; which was kind of nice, since we were both off until the Monday after. As the ham and casseroles cooled in the kitchen, we went to separate rooms to wrap our presents. Tuesday was Christmas Eve and we both had work until six. When I got home Donna was already there having only two blocks to walk. "Want to go out to eat?" she asked. "I don't think anything's open," I replied. "The Ho-Wah is open," she said; whipping out a pair of chopsticks. Ten minutes later, we were sitting in the Ho-Wah, an authentic Chinese restaurant that was considered the place to go on a date, to impress the girl. I didn't need to impress Donna, I needed to feed her and quick. There weren't many people in the place, but more customers were filing in as we waited for our server. Donna had started to munch on the noodles at the table, dipping them in hot mustard. "You gotta try this," she said, scooping in some more. "That's a little too hot for me," I said, dipping mine in duck sauce. "Hello," said an attractive middle-aged Asian woman. "Would you like our special for two, tonight?" A beautiful Siamese cat sat on the floor next to her. "That sounds good; also we want a pu pu platter," I said, feeling extra hungry. "Pu pu not on special," she stated. "I know, we want the special and the pu pu platter," I repeated, thinking I wasn't being clear. "Pu pu not with special, you must pay extra," she said. "I understand. I'll pay extra for the pu pu platter." "Pu pu for two is not cheap." "Okay, forget the pu pu," I said in defeat. "You get pu pu. I already wrote it down, see?" she said stuffing the ticket in my face. "Okay, we'll take the pu pu platter." She glared at me. "You want pu pu or not?" "Yes!" I barked back. She turned around shouted something in Mandarin. The guy working the wok said, "Pu pu for two!" The man chopping vegetables shouted, "Pu pu for two!" The fellow cleaning the litter box yelled, "Pu pu for two!" The lady served us our tea and the cat took turns rubbing mine and Donna's legs. Dinner and the pu pu platter came while Donna and I made small talk. The conversation eventually led to her father. "I still have no idea why he dropped off the face of the Earth like that. I mean, just because he and my mom didn't get along any more, didn't mean he had to stop talking to me. I always thought we were close, but I guess I was wrong," she said, finishing her plate. I didn't have any words of wisdom for her. My parents were only five minutes away and I saw them twice a week. I had no basis for comparison. She had little to say after that, and we finished our meal and headed home. SQUATTERS SCRAM. As we walked in, I noticed something not quite right, namely Jim trying desperately to get out the living room window. "Stop!" I shouted. Jim pulled his head back through the opening. "What are you doing here?" I said, trying to sound as irritated as I actually was. I really didn't need to ask, with him trying to hold up his pants, but I wanted to hear him say it. "Funny you should ask that," he said, buckling his belt. "My friend needed to use a bathroom and we just happened to be in the neighborhood," he explained while Shaky waved to us from outside. I wandered into the bedroom and it was a wreck. "That's it! Both of you get your asses in there and fix it up! Now!" I hollered, pushing Jim done the hall. Donna yanked Shaky back through the window and shoved her toward Jim. I stood in the doorway with my hands on my hips watching the two. "Change the sheets on the bed." "They ate the ham!" shouted Donna from the kitchen. "You two ate a ten pound boneless ham? That was supposed to last me and Donna until the weekend!" I asked astonished. "We were hungry," said Shaky. "What, like Fred and Wilma Flintstone?" I looked back toward the kitchen and asked, "Is there anything else missing?" Donna looked around the corner and sheepishly replied, "They got your six-pack of Miller too." Jim and Shaky were done with the bedroom, and stood there; like two kids, knowing a spanking was coming. I pointed to the front door, grit my teeth and said, "Get out. I don't want to ever see either one of you again." They both stood there. "Get out!" They went quickly and silently. I may never see Shaky again, but something tells me that I haven't seen the last of Jim. "What does that leave us with, in there?" I asked, feeling low. Around the corner of the kitchen, a potato with her Groucho glasses on and forks stuck in for legs with Donna's voice said, "Well, they didn't touch any of the stuff I made to go with the ham. We could make sandwiches tomorrow and get another ham on Thursday. You can make another run across the bridge for your beer too. We both have the rest of week off, so it won't matter that much." "I guess," I said to Mr. Potato head. Donna came out of the kitchen and gave me a hug. "Let's put the presents under the tree." There was one heck of a lot of presents sitting there, when we were done. It almost made the tree look less immense. She grabbed the potato guy and held it up to my face. "I'm tired. Want to go to bed?" "Are we going to have sex? I don't think I can take any pounding tonight," I said as a reminder. "I'll go easy on you, but wait here until I call you in," she said, skipping into the bedroom. 'I hope I don't have to do Mr. Potato head too,' I thought. "Okay, come on in," I heard her say through the closed door. I heard bells jingle. 'Oh boy...' There she stood, dressed as Kris Kringle; complete with boots and hat with jingle bells on the top. Well, she wasn't completely dressed like him; she was bottomless. In the deepest voice she could muster, she said, "Ho, ho, ho. You've been a good boy this year. Tell Santa what you want." "More oral sex?" I asked, hopefully. "Santa takes a pass, try again," she said, shaking her jingles bells at me. I thought for a moment, wondering what we could do, that wasn't going to hurt. Finally I said, "How about I return the favor to you from the other night and then you can give me a," I jerked my hand up and down. "Santa likes the first part but the second needs some work." She hopped on the bed and drew her knees up exposing herself. "Santa says mush!" she commanded. I'd never done this before, but I'd read some adult books that were explicit, as well as educational. I laid down between her legs and kissed her. "Nice," Santa moaned. Her scent was sweet, and not what I expected. I'd always heard that it smelled like fish. Of course, this was Donna, and she wasn't like anyone else. Why should this be any different? I used my tongue to find her clit, and my fingers to expose it fully. I was gentle, because I'd read it was sensitive. "Santa says, you found the mark; now mush, mush!" she said, sounding a lot more like Donna than Santa. 'To hell with being gentle,' I thought as I gunned it. I flicked and jammed my tongue as fast as I could on her button while as she bucked her hips below. "Almost there," she said, grabbing the back of my head and grinding herself on my face. "Yes!" she said; followed by a wail, sounding like she'd just stubbed her toe. "Santa says thanks," she said breathlessly and blew on a party favor. "Now I know what they mean by a 'Holly Jolly Christmas.'" I made a trip to the bathroom to make sure I wasn't bleeding and to remove Santa's pubic hair that was lodged between my teeth. When I returned, Santa had removed 'his' coat, and was displaying perfect 38 double D breasts. I dropped my pants and said, "Why Santa, what beautiful boobs you have." "Ho, ho, ho. Glad you noticed. Come here and lay down," 'he' said, patting the bed. I did what I was told and she produced a small bottle of suntan oil. "It was on your dresser." She poured some on her hand and rubbed it generously over my cock, careful not to touch the bruised area. "No, this is not going to be a handjob," she said shaking her head at me. She finished applying the oil and then oiled up her breasts. Kneeling between my legs and propping herself up on her elbows on either side of me; left her beautiful boobs lying on my groin. "Ho, ho, ho, do you know what to do?" Little Ralphie slid into place and slid back and forth. "Like this, Santa?" "You learn quickly," 'he' answered. It didn't hurt at all, and since I was doing it at my own pace and didn't have to worry about how 'Santa' felt; I was able to enjoy myself. Her breasts were so soft and the look on her face of coming up with something much better than a handjob, excited me even more. Used my hands to cup her breasts and mold them around ‘Little Ralphie’, their soft flesh caressing me with each stroke. My breathing got faster but I slowed my rhythm relishing the imminent explosion to take place. "Santa says show him how much you like this. Make it a big one." I'd nearly slowed to a stop as my toes curled and thigh muscles seized up. One last slow push all the way, a groan, and a blast shot out and hit the wall behind my head. The next mighty jet hit so hard it rebounded back on my face. The remaining projectiles landed on my shoulder and chest. It took a moment to catch my breath and Donna wiggled her boobs over my crotch. "Santa sees you like that," she said. "Wow," was all I could muster. "I got to tell you Ralphie, that was pretty amazing," she said in her own voice, pointing at the wall. All over the world, Santa Claus, Father Christmas, Kris Kringle, or whatever name he was known by, was busy sliding down chimneys making dreams come true. We never heard him as we both slept very well that night. OUR CHRISTMAS DAY. When I woke, Donna was already up and the radio was playing Christmas songs. The smell of coffee beckoned me as I put my robe on and headed to the bathroom. When I came out, Donna was standing there holding a Christmas mug brimming with my morning caffeine, and laid a big wet Christmas kiss on me. "I'm going to make a nice breakfast for us, since dinner's gonna suck. Do you want to eat before we open presents, or after?" she asked. "After I guess," I replied, noting that it was already after noon. "That way all we need is to eat light later," I said, explaining my reasoning. I dug out all the things I got for her, and shoved them in her direction. One by one, she opened them, and made a big fuss over each. When she was done, I was thanked with several kisses and hugs. Then she handed me a few things. "I'm still waiting for one of the presents to get here," she said, putting on her new robe and slippers. "Dancing girls?" I asked, kidding. "You want me to dance?" she asked, standing up and twirling around. "Not the right kind of mood music," I joked. "Yeah, it's kind of hard to find the beat to 'Silent Night'." I opened my things, and they were all small stuff; like new combs and a toothbrush. I thanked her and gave her a hug. "Well, I guess I'll start breakfast," she said, looking at the clock and sounding disappointed. As she stood, there was a knock at the door. She started jumping up and down ran to the door. She looked through the peephole and said, "It's here!" She whipped the door open and there stood Paulie Toucan and Paulie Asshole. On the floor in front of them was a large wrapped box with a bulging paper bag sitting on top. "Merry Christmas!" said Toucan. "Yeah, whatever," said Asshole. "Merry Christmas to you guys," Donna said, motioning them in. Toucan handed her the paper bag and then both of them picked up the box and carried it in. "This is for you, Douche Bag," said Asshole. Donna started to close the door but Toucan stopped her. He reached out in the hallway and brought another box in. "This one's for everybody," he said setting the box on the new coffee table. "Holy shit, thank you," I said, wondering what was in the box. "It's not from us, it's from your Sweetie," said Toucan. Then he shrugged, "Maybe we helped a little." "You're never going to believe what's in the bag," said Donna. With these two, I would. "What is it?" "A twelve pound boneless ham," she said, needing two hands to pull it out. "How is that even possible that they knew about the ham from last night?" I asked, stunned. "Your girl asked us over for dinner today when she asked us to help her with this," Toucan said, giving the box a tap with his foot. "We came by last night to drop it off but it sounded like you were having a problem so we waited in the car for things to settle down. When your friend came out, we got the whole story and decided to wait and come back today. In the meantime Paulie here found that on the back dock of the butchers." "Kind of strange that they leave things like that sitting around. Fucks up the profit margin," Asshole said, giving us an economics lesson. "What's that?" I pointed to the gift for everybody. "Oh," said Toucan as he unwrapped it. "Want one?" he asked. It was a whole case of Miller and it was ice cold. I looked at my coffee and back at the beer. "Yes, please!" I replied. "The beer distributor has a fucked up profit margin too," said Asshole. "Excuse me, I'm going to stick this in the oven. Forget breakfast, we're having a Christmas dinner. Don't open that until I come back out!" Donna said, pointing at the big box as she rushed into the kitchen. I asked them to sit and made some small talk. "Are either of you married?" "Nah," Toucan replied. "Fuck that," Asshole stated. "How about girlfriends?" I asked. Toucan shook his head. "What is this, the fuckin' Inquisition?" quipped Asshole. I heard the oven door close. "Okay," said Donna wiping her hands on a towel. "Open 'er up!" The tag said 'To Douche Bag from Your Gal'. Very sentimental. I opened it up and couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was a brand new 22" Quasar by Motorola. "We just happened to have an extra one and seeing that girlie here was in the market for a TV for you, we gave it to her cheap," said Toucan helping me pull it out of the box. I dragged the TV cart out of the closet, set it up on there, and plugged it in. Even running off the internal antenna the picture was amazing. "Oops, wait," said Asshole, as he produced a screwdriver and pulled the serial number plate off the back of the set. "We don't want to leave anything that would lead back to us," said Toucan, innocently. "Sorry, but your warranty is void," stated Asshole, as he pocketed the plate and screwdriver. "Those things go for around five-hundred bucks. How much did you pay for it?" I whispered in Donna's ear. "Do you really want to know?" she asked. I nodded. "Let's just say that it was probably around what you spent on my clothes." 'Screw the warranty,' I said to myself. Someone pounded on the door. I went to open it and it was Tony the cop. "Merry Christ..." was all I managed to say before he pushed me out of the way. "There you are," Tony sneered, grabbing Toucan and Asshole by the coat. "I've got you dead to rights this time." "What for," asked Toucan, nonplussed. "For fencing stolen goods like that coffee table there." He turned and saw the Quasar. "A semi of these got high jacked a month ago and I'll bet that thing as hot as the table. Lucky for me I just happen to have a list of the serial numbers of the ones on the truck." "You got it all wrong officer. We just came here for some Christmas grub. Help us out here, Roy," asked Toucan. "It's Ralph," I replied. "You're in trouble too, my friend," said Tony. "Receiving stolen property is a serious crime." "Come on, Rudolph, tell him where you got this stuff," pleaded Asshole. "I found the table on the side of the road. It must have fallen off the back of a truck. I guess I was lucky to be the first person by," I lied. "If it fell off a truck, how did the glass top manage to stay unbroken?" his inquiring mind wanted to know. "I was surprised myself. It was still in it's original box and the glass top was packed in Styrofoam and shrink wrap," I said quickly. "How do you explain the TV?" he said, relaxing his grip on the boys. "Donna got it for me for Christmas," I said, nodding in her direction. "Where?" he snapped. "Silos," she lied, never missing a beat. "Let me see the receipt," he said, letting go of both Paulies. "It's taped here on the box," she said, turning it around a few times. "That place is a scam. The employees rip off the place by selling the stuff for cash and pocketing the money. I bet if you look you'll find the serial number's been taken off so it won't track back to them," said Tony, turning the TV to inspect it. "There, see?" he motioned at the spot where it'd been ripped off. "Good luck using the warranty if it breaks down." "I'm sorry, I don't see the receipt right now, but I paid six-hundred and ninety dollars cash for it," lied Donna through her teeth. "Maybe it's in the bedroom." "Forget it. If you paid that much money for this thing, you got ripped off big time. It's an expensive TV but it's only worth about five, maybe five-fifty with a warranty." He snapped his fingers. "Hey, maybe they forgot to get the serial number off the bottom of the box." Both Paulies turned pale as ghosts. Donna shook her head and I held my breath as officer Tony lifted the box to look. "No luck," he said, dropping the box back down. "The box must've been dragged 'cause the label is scuffed off." He raised his head and sniffed the air. "Something smells good." "It's ham," Donna replied. "Do you want to stay for dinner?" "Thanks for the offer, but I have to go check in. My shift's almost over and my wife's got dinner going at home." He headed for the door and stopped. "You two ought not to get involved with these guys," he said, motioning to the Paulies. "They're always up to no good." "Tony, this is Silly Toots' kid," said Toucan. He reached a hand out to her hair. "Donna?" he asked. "Yep, that's me," she said grinning. "I should have recognized you. Nobody has hair like yours. How is your dad?" he asked. "I don't know. I haven't seen or heard from him for a while. My parents broke up," she said, looking away. "I'm sorry to hear that. Look, forget I brought it up. You folks have a good Christmas day," he said and left. The Paulies and I sat on sofa and cranked up the Quasar. "Thanks for the help there, Douche Bag," said Toucan, giving me a thumbs-up. "The same here, Raŭl," said Asshole. The phone rang. "Ralph, could you get it?" asked Donna, as she was juggling casseroles around in the oven. "Who's Ralph?" asked Asshole. Paulie shrugged and shook his head. "Hello." "Hello, this is the operator. I have a long distance person to person call from Silvio Brunner for Donna Brunner being paid for by a third party, is she there?" "Hold on," I answered. I looked at the boys and mouthed the words, 'It's her dad!' Asshole and Paulie winked at each other and shook hands. "Ah, Donna, it's for you," I said, acting like it was a survey. She came out of the kitchen and I turned down the TV for her. I plopped down between the Paulies and we all held our breath. "Hello," she said. "Yes, this is Donna Brunner...Excuse me... Okay, I'll hold..." She looked up at us. We could hear his voice across the room. "Merry Christmas, baby doll. How's my little mop head doing?" Donna immediately started laughing and crying at the same time. I motioned the guys to get their coats and follow me outside. I wanted to leave her to her privacy and they nodded in agreement. We stood out by our cars and the guys lit up. "I needed one of these when Tony was there," said Toucan. "Thanks for not smoking in the apartment. I don't care but it makes Donna sneeze." "She really doesn't know where here father is?" asked Asshole, almost more of a statement than a question. "Don't," Toucan warned Asshole. "The operator said the call was being paid for by a third party." They both started laughing. "Somebody somewhere is gonna find that phone call on their bill next month. They dispute making it, it comes off the bill, and that's that," said Toucan. They smoked another and then Donna stuck her head out the door. "Dinner's ready." SILLY TOOTS. Later that night, Donna told me what happened. It seems that Silvio Brunner and her mother did break-up and not long afterward, Toots was nabbed for running numbers and loan sharking. He was serving a one-year stint in an Arizona correctional facility and didn't want Donna to know. He thought he would be out on parole by now, but he violated some rule and had to serve his whole sentence. When Paulie Toucan put out the word, he found out quickly where her father was. He simply passed the word, for him to make sure to call his daughter at this number, on Christmas day. I'm sitting here eating a ham sandwich while Donna dreams sweet dreams. The only light I have is coming from the tree. It really is a nice one. I'm glad Donna picked it. You know, my crotch doesn't feel half bad today. Maybe I should find another condom that's 'ribbed for her pleasure'. I wonder what color it'll be today.   That was it. Ralphie turned the page and saw another date and title: "Saturday, January 17th, 1975." "Donna's abscess." He shuddered. "I think I'll leave that for another time," he said to himself, closing the book. He dropped it into a box he reserved for paperwork and marked it 'Save'. Looking out the small window he saw that it was dark outside. "Are you coming down or what?" his Pop yelled. "I'm coming now," Ralphie answered, pulling the string to turn off the light. "Go and get changed, we're taking Grandpa out to dinner," Pop said, as he steadied the ladder for Junior to come down. He washed his face and hands and put on clean clothes. He liked Grandpa. He was always funny and now that he knew his little secret, some of his stories might now make more sense. When he came down the stairs, he saw that his parents had already set up the tree and decorated it. He sat down to wait until they were ready and looked at it. Just under the star on top, there was an ornament he'd seen as long as he could remember, but never gave it a second thought. It was a Toucan. "What do you know," he mumbled. They got to the rest home and Ralphie and his mother went in to get him. He was seated in the front entryway waiting for us. Ralphie helped him to his feet and he broke wind. "Sorry. Hi Baby Doll," he said, kissing Donna on the cheek. "God you're tall," he said looking up at Junior. "Where we goin'?" Grandpa asked. "Vito's," answered Donna. "Oh good, they have great veal," he said. "Grandpa, got any good stories tonight?" Junior asked. "I got a million of them," he replied, jabbing Ralphie in the side. "Great," Junior said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. They arrived at Vito's and the place smelled great. Ralphie looked around and saw a few open tables. In the corner was a table with five guys playing cards. He saw a tall one, a short one, a fat one, one with a huge nose, and one that looked like... One looked up and pointed. "Look who the fuck just walked through the door!" Based on a post by Kirk 48 2002 [https://www.literotica.com/authors/Kirk482002/works], in 2 parts, for Literotica.

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.