My Girlfriend’s Neglected Mother

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It’s not often you meet a mother who’s better looking than her good-looking teen-aged or twenty-something daughter, but I know this one family, who serve as the inspiration for this story.

Next up will by something for national Nude Day and my first entry into a Literotica contest.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

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.”


“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 escort ataşehir 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.


“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?”


* * * * *

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 kadıköy escort 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. maltepe escort bayan 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?”


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?”

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