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.
* * * * *
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?
* * * * *
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.
* * * * *
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.”
* * * * *
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.”
* * * * *
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.”
* * * * *
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.
* * * * *
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.”
* * * * *
It became a regular gig, once a week at the Hollins, parents sizing up the future son-in-law (we were that serious). We’d cook-out, Mr. Hollins, immaculate in slacks, a button-down shirt, and loafers, manning the grill while I played in the pool, fooling around with Jennie and Mrs. Hollins in their skimpy and complementary (if not matching) swimsuits. Sometimes we’d go out for dinner and Jennie and Mrs. Hollins would show off their toned bodies in clothes selected for just that purpose. Or maybe we’d sit in front of the telly, catch a movie or a game.
* * * * *
On a Friday afternoon Jennie and I rendezvoused on campus, listened to some bands, Jennie texted her mother, let her know all was okay, we went to my place, fucked like bunnies.
The next morning, after coffee, we did it again. Then Jennie’s phone rang.
“Hey Mom. What did you tell Dad?”
“I told him you’d gone out with Michael, had something to drink, called and asked if you could stay at a friend’s, I said it was okay.”
“Thanks Mom.”
“You’re welcome dear. Your Dad likes Michael, but there are things he’d prefer not knowing. I’m coming into town for lunch and a little shopping. We both need something for the Yacht Club Christmas Party. Why don’t you and your young man join me.”
She looked at me with expectant eyes. While shopping with the ladies is not my cup of tea, I didn’t see a way out of it – Jennie knew my schedule was wide open. I gave her the thumbs up.
“Sounds great Mom.”
“Great, do you need a change of clothes?”
“No, I packed leggings and a tee-shirt.”
“How about Madison’s? Can’t beat the salads. Noon? What color leggings?”
Jennie, who was fondling my dick, said, “Black, and let’s make it 1:00.”
* * * * *
Mrs. Hollins was at the restaurant; Jennie leaned over, kissed her cheek, said, “Love the outfit.”
Wearing clothes almost identical to her daughter’s, Mrs. Hollins laughed and said, “Yeah, once you said leggings and a tee-shirt it seemed right. What do you think Michael?”
“If you’ve got it, flaunt it, and you two got it.”
* * * * *
After eating – the salads were great – it was off to Macy’s. The ladies looked at the merchandise while I looked at the ladies and happy eyes of the men happily following this hot, similarly attired, mother and daughter through the store. Mrs. Hollins and Jennie tried on several outfits, some sexier than others, all sexier than most, preened, playfully competed for my attention. The sales clerk, a striking short-haired black woman, was enjoying herself and pushed the edge of the envelope, urging the women to try on something a wee bit hotter, tighter, more revealing. After an hour the three of them came out of a dressing room, announced they had a winner, and sent me to the men’s section for a new shirt – they noted mine was frayed – while they rang up what they said would be a surprise.
* * * * *
The night of the Yacht Club Christmas Party, wearing my best suit (okay, my only suit), I drove my battered car through Jennie’s neighborhood, parked, and was met at the door by Mr. Hollins. His tailored suit was beautiful; his cuff-links had a greater net worth than I did.
Conscious of the comparison I glanced at the mirror and was pleasantly surprised. It might be a second hand suit, but on my trim athletic form it looked good. I didn’t feel quite so out of place.
In the living room Mr. Hollins handed me a scotch, then his eyes fixed on something over my shoulder. I turned, expected to see something great, saw something better. Posing on the wide staircase Jennie and Mrs. Hollins stepped forward in their long black dresses, sliding stockinged legs through long slits. Both sported high open-toed heels, Mrs. Hollins’ a bit higher. On the other hand, Jennie’s neckline scooped a bit lower, hinting at her cleavage. Both wore their hair up, displaying to good effect lovely necklaces, Jennie’s turquoise and Mrs. Hollins’ diamond, and dangling earrings. They were classy; they were appropriate; they were a walking wet dream.
I said, “My god, do you two look good.”
Mr. Hollins, more practical, said, “It’s a little chilly, you might want to bring a wrap.”
I said, “My god you look good,” kissed both women’s cheeks, offered to get their wraps.
* * * * *
The band started. I asked Jennie to dance. She said she needed to let her food digest, suggested her mother. I looked to Mr. Hollins, he nodded his agreement.
Mrs. Hollins moved with grace and style and I, holding her close, thoroughly enjoying dancing with this total fox, said, “Dancing with you and Jennie all night, I’ll be the envy of every man here.”
“So, is that what you’re doing, showing off in front of the crowd?”
Saying, “Absolutely,” I held her tighter and added, “Like this.”
Cupping the back of my arm with her hand she moved further into me and said, “How about this?”
Pulling her a bit closer I said, “Now we’re getting there.”
“Michael, are you flirting with your girlfriend’s mother?”
“Mrs. Hollins, in front of all these people, in front of your daughter, in front of your husband, what kind of guy do you think I am? I’ve just heard that when you’re courting a young woman you need to win over her mother. So I’m trying real hard, ready to do whatever it takes to make you happy, for Jennie’s sake.”
“That’s noble of you. And what does my daughter say?”
“She told me to look after all your needs, pay you close attention, says you’re the key to making sure I’m accepted by the family.”
“Well, that’s good advice and so far you’re doing fine, but you don’t want to stop, you want to keep at it, be relentless.”
The music wound down and, her hand in mine, we returned to the table where Jennie stood and said, “You two looked great out there, kinda sexy even.”
I said, “As graceful and beautiful as your mother is, as good as she looks in that dress, you’d have to work real hard not to be kinda sexy.”
Mrs. Hollins laughed and said, “You’re a young man, to you everything’s sexy. Now dance with my daughter.”
Saying, “Don’t let him escape Mom,” Jennie returned to the table to say something to her father.
As I leaned into Mrs. Hollins to kiss her cheek she brushed my erection with her leg and said, “Now rub that thing on my daughter for awhile.”
* * * * *
Wearing a white captain’s shirt and hat, Mr. Hollins steered the yacht out of the harbor. I was sitting on the deck talking to Jennie and Mrs. Hollins, whose lissome bodies were adorned by tiny bikinis emblazoned with the American flag. When we moved into open water Mr. Hollins asked me to join him at the helm, said he’d show me how to operate the ship.
Mrs. Hollins said, “Jennie and I are going to lay in the sun,” and climbed onto the bow, where they laid out towels, and casually, as if they’d done it a hundred times before, stripped naked, applied lotion to themselves and each other’s backs, lay down.
I glanced at Mr. Hollins; his attention on the boat, not the naked hotties lying on it. You had to admire his focus.
I watched other boats sail by, no one tried to hide their binoculars.
I’d been steering for about forty-five minutes when Mrs. Hollins lifted her head and shouted, “Dear, would you bring me some water, it’s hot down here.”
A look flashed across Mr. Hollins’ face, one that said he was the captain, far too busy for such frivolity.
This was an opportunity not to let get away.
“Sir, I’m happy to get it for them, why don’t you take over.”
“That’s kind of you Michael.”
I said, “As good as you all have been to me, it’s the least I can do,” then yelled to Mrs. Hollins, “I’ll be there in a second.”
* * * * *
I was opening the refrigerator when I heard a familiar voice.
“Enjoying the show, stud?’
My naked girlfriend, holding a towel, pressed her hand to my chest, kissed me, and I said, “I didn’t get the rule book, it’s okay for you and your Mom to strip in front of me if we’re on a boat?”
“Yep, not sure why lying naked in public is acceptable if you’re on a yacht, but it is. Maybe it’s a special rule for the rich. I think it’s half the reason Mom’s goes on these trips, she can let that body she works so hard on be openly ogled. And you’ve been doing your part.”
“Happy to contribute, but I was trying not to be too obvious. After all, I’m with your Dad.”
Her hand rubbing my penis through my shorts she said, “You’re okay, barely. As to Dad, we’ve talked about that, he doesn’t notice. Sometimes I think he’d wouldn’t mind if someone else took over the physical requirements of his marriage.”
She pushed my swim trunks over my erection, wrapped her fingers on my it, squeezed; a bead of pre-cum oozed from the tip and ran down the barrel. She knelt, directed me to sit, licked up the shaft, retracing the pre-cum’s path, then said, “Y’know, when you’re on the water it’s important to keep your skin moisturized.”
She licked the crown with the flat of her tongue, then tilting her head wrapped her mouth on my shaft from the side, moved up and down, coating it with spittle, then smacked her lips in delight, stretched her jaw, and swallowed half my length.
The display on the bow having set my pilot light on high and the roar of the boat’s engine providing ample cover, I made no effort to hide my appreciation, “Oh yeah Jennie, so good, so good, suck me, yeah.”
Then Jennie stopped, let me slide from her mouth, licked her lips, and said, “Hey stud, there’s no need to bullshit me, you’ve gotten this hard-on staring at my mother’s naked body, you’re imagining it’s her sucking your cock.”
What she said wasn’t true, Jennie’s naked body always made an erection inevitable, but this did not seem the time to quibble. I thrust my dick into her face, said, “Suck me Mrs. Hollins,” and Jennie did: in my mind’s eyes it was soon Mrs. Hollins’ mouth, hand, and tongue on my dick.
“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it Mrs. Hollins, I’m getting close, coddle my balls, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it. Suck my dick Mrs. Hollins, fuck yes, so good.”
Stabbing her head the length of my dick she ended each thrust with a gag, “GWAC, GWAC, GWAC, GWAC, GWAC.”
Slumping on the bench, the vibration of the boat merging with the sensation of Jennie’s mouth, my breaths grew short and hard, my jaw locked, my gut clenched, and I started babbling, “Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes, suck me Mrs. Hollins, suck me, I’m there, there, there, fucking yes, I’m… frigging… coming…,” and filled Mrs. Hollins, I mean Jennie’s mouth with warm blasts of thick creamy goo. Continuing to work me with lips and tongue, she let the first wad glide down her throat, then held the next two pulses in her mouth, slid me between her lips and with a wicked slurp, opened her mouth, showing me the pool of cum flowing over her tongue, swallowed.
Then she cocked her head, concentrated for a second, and said, “We’re turning around, heading back to land. I better get that water to Mom, they’re going to wonder what happened to us. You owe me one stud.”
“Sure do.”
As Jennie hand her mother a bottle of water, Mrs. Hollins kissed her daughter in appreciation, they each took a long sip, talked, the conversation inaudible over the roar of the boat.
* * * * *
“Your boyfriend tastes good.”
“Sure does, enjoy the show?”
“That I did. You think he’s the one?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“I’ve been thinking it from day one.”
“Me too. Dad suspicious?”
“No, although you two might want to be a little more careful. As long as you were gone, it was clear you weren’t fetching water. If your father had been paying attention…”
“But he wasn’t Mom, although you were.”
“Well, a girl’s gotta get her kicks. You give great head.”
Then, raising herself on her forearms, exposing her body and breasts, Mrs. Hollins scanned the horizon and said, “We’ll be in sight of land soon, let’s catch a few more rays. Give me the lotion, I’ll do your back, then you can do mine. Your boyfriend will enjoy the show.”
* * * * *
As we approached the harbor Mr. Hollins tooted the horn and Jennie and her mother sat up, casually finished their water, turned squarely in my direction and, showing all the goods, put their bikinis on.
* * * * *
A few days later I was at the Hollins’ house when Jennie’s phone pinged. She opened the message, read it, read it again, pumped her fist and said, “Yes! Whitman scheduled me for an interview, but crap, it’s next Friday. Mom, that’s your birthday.”
Whitman was Jennie’s dream college, the one she had no chance of getting into. Still, the assistant director of admissions had been a fraternity brother of Mr. Hollins, not one Mr. Hollins had been close to, but perhaps, maybe. Mr. Hollins was to go with Jennie to the interview, see if he could influence the decision.
Mrs. Hollins said, “Honey, when you’re in you late thirties your birthday is not that big a deal and, in any case, we weren’t planning to do anything as a family until Saturday.”
Jennie said, “But still Mom, it’s your birthday. Dad and I can’t leave.”
Mrs. Hollins said, “Of course you can, I’ll find something to do.”
Jennie looked at me with expectant eyes and I said, “Look, with your daughter out of town I’ll be foot loose and fancy free. Let me take you out. We’ll do something different, something you wouldn’t normally do.”
Jennie said, “That’s a great idea Mom and I know just the place. There’s a club not too far from campus. It has a mixed crowd, not just students.”
Mrs. Hollins said, “I don’t know, you sure you want to go out with an old lady Michael?”
“What old lady, you bringing a friend? With Jennie out of town you’ll be the finest woman around.”
Mrs. Hollins said, “What, I’m not as hot as my daughter?”
Jennie said, “Mom, you and I will pick out something for you to wear, show my boyfriend exactly how hot you can be.”
We ran it, well at least the general concept, by Mr Hollins; he said it was an excellent idea.
* * * * *
“Happy birthday Mrs. Hollins.”
I handed her a half-dozen roses. While a cliche, it was always appreciated. Eyes spread wide, she kissed my cheek and said, “They’re beautiful. Please come in.”
And while her eyes had spread wide, they were no match for mine. Mrs. Hollins’ red dress snugly fit her slender form; her small breasts perfect in the built-in cups. The back was open; there were no straps, just a tie around the neck. And, as I followed her into the house, I focused on her butt; it formed an impeccable bump in the back of the dress.
And the shoes: red stiletto heels that buckled around the ankles.
The dress screamed fuck me, the shoes hollered the same thing, and later her moves on the dance floor would be exclamation points. If it was going to happen, it would happen tonight. I was going to make my, and Jennie’s fantasy come true: I’d fuck her mother.
In the living room she handed me a glass of wine, put the flowers in a vase, studied them, moved one flower half-an-inch, another a quarter-of-an-inch, leaned forward, took a long whiff, chin in hand studied them, moved two more flowers, and said, “They’re lovely, and you’re sweet and thoughtful,” kissed my cheek – her perfume was light and airy – pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and said, “I can see why my daughter’s so enamored with you.”
“A beautiful woman deserves beautiful flowers, and you look spectacular. Jennie asked for pictures.”
I took several of her, then several of us together, my arm around her shoulder, her arm around my waist.
Jennie texted, said we were a good looking couple, instructed me to show her Mom the time of her life.
* * * * *
I held the door of my newly cleaned jalopy for her, then her chair at the hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant where we’d never run into any of her crowd. She asked my advice, ordered it, complimented my choice. We shared dessert, went to the club, danced fast, danced slow, and later, as I drove her home, she leaned her body into mine.
* * * * *
I handed her a glass of wine as she moved a couple of the flowers, moved them back, moved one other, and said, “That’s better, it’s been bothering me all night. What do you think?”
I said, “I think you’ve got it,” held my glass up.
“To you, on your birthday.”
Touching her glass to mine she said, “To a wonderful evening, I can’t remember a better time. Why don’t you put on some music, come sit with me. I need to get off my feet, it’s been years since I danced in stilettos.”
“Well, every guy there’d vote in favor of you doing it again.”
“Michael, are you flirting with me?”
“Just getting started.”
Mrs. Hollins sat, took off her ruby heart-shaped earrings, lay them on the table next to the couch. I put on some soft jazz, said, “Foot rub?” she said, “I’d like that,” and I sat on the far end of the couch as she pirouetted until her back rested on the arm and her feet were in my lap.
I unbuckled her shoes, laid them on the floor, worked her feet; we chatted, she drank her wine. When her phone pinged she signaled me to keep working, picked it off the coffee table, held it up — it was Jennie on FaceTime – then turned it back towards her and said, “Hey babe, how’d the interview go?”
“Not good. The guy from Dad’s frat was away on a family emergency. I ended up with a guy who had no idea who I was, who hadn’t reviewed my file. It was a milk run, not an interview. But enough of me. Happy birthday, did you have fun?”
“I’m sorry to hear that honey. And yes, your boyfriend showed me a wonderful time. I haven’t danced like that in years. He’s rubbing my feet right now.”
“He gives good foot rub Mom. I want to talk to both of you.”
Moving her feet off my lap, Mrs. Collins slid down the couch and leaned her body on mine.
My girlfriend was sitting-up in bed, her back resting on the headboard, a blanket pulled across her chest. Her shoulders were bare. Was she wearing any clothes?
“You taking good care of Mom, sweetie?”
“Trying.”
“Good, give Mom a birthday kiss from me.”
Mrs. Collins turned her head, I brushed my lips on hers.
Jennie said, “C’mon, you can do better than that.”
Mrs. Collins, holding the phone in one hand, turned her shoulders, wrapped slender strong fingers on the back of my neck, pulled me towards her, ran a hand down my side, kissed me. Her lips moved on mine, mine on hers; I was as hard as a rock.
Jennie said, “That’s much better. Now you two don’t stay up too late, and sleep soundly. Love you both.”
Mrs. Hollins clicked off the phone, slid it onto the coffee table, rotated towards me, said, “My daughter said she left me a pretty present. Do you know what she was talking about? ”
“Not sure, but I’d hate for you to be disappointed. Are there any boxes lying around?”
She said, “No,” started unbuttoning my shirt, added, “Could she have meant you?”
“Maybe, should we call and ask?”
“No, she was already in bed, we wouldn’t want to wake her. We’ll assume I’m right and check with her in the morning.”
She undid several more buttons, opened my shirt, ran her hand on my chest, said, “Nice,” then finished unbuttoning and pulled my shirt and undershirt over my head, ran her hands on my chest, teased my nipples with her perfect nails, said, Good body, do you know how to use it?”
“Jennie doesn’t complain and she’s not one to hide her opinion. In fact, she’s quite uninhibited, there’s this game we play where she pretends to be you.”
“Yes, I saw on the boat. Do you like this game Michael?”
On the boat? She was running her nails in circles around my nipples, it was hard to concentrate. Oh yeah, the boat.
“Very much.”
She kissed the top of my chest; I slipped a hand inside her dress, stroked a small firm breast with the side of my thumb.
“So, should I pretend to be my daughter?”
I rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger.
“No Mrs. Hollins. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you, but 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, sank it inside her.
Her tone seductive 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 sex, 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.”
“Mmmhhh.”
“Like I fuck your daughter.”
“Mmmmmhhhhhh.”
“Fuck you until you can’t see straight.”
“Mmmmmmhhhhhhhhh.”
“Like I fuck your daughter.”
“Mmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhh.”
“I’ll dick you to your heart’s delight.”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
“And no one will know, they’ll just think I’m balling your daughter, but I’ll be balling you.”
“Mmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
“That’s what you want isn’t it?”
“Mmmmnnnnnmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Mnnnnnmmmnnmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
“Say it.”
“I, I, I…”
“Say it.”
She bit my shoulder and said, “Yes Michael… mmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhh,mmmm, that’s… mmmhhhhhhhhhhh, what… mmmmmmm, I want… mmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
I pulled on her nipple, her moan grew louder and higher in pitch.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmmmm mmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, mmmmmmmmmmmnnnnn mmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”
Curling my upper body I took the nipple into my mouth.
“I’m…”
Licked it, hard.
“…fricking…’
Rolled it between my teeth.
“…fricking…, fricking…, fricking…”
Bit it.
“…coommmmiiiiinnnnnnnnggggggggggg.”
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 shaked 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 some 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.
“Mmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”
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, 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, throughly 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, throughly 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 eeeennnnnyyyyaaaahhhhhhhhhh,” and, cunt convulsing, body shaking, squealing in a pitch I hadn’t imagined she could reach, she sang, “FFFUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKK YESSSS, I’m cominnnngggggggg,” 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.”
