Finn's Girlfriend's Mother

Finn's Girlfriend's Mother

Author's note: I've chosen the Mature category for this story, even though the lead female is only 41. The age gap between the two main characters is an essential part of the chemistry between them. All characters described are over eighteen and act consensually. I do not, and never will use AI when I write. I welcome feedback and conversations about this story and my others. HG xx.

I've always had a soft spot for Christmas. It's the one time of the year that all four of us in our family spend time together with little else to do but eat, drink and watch cheesy films about Christmas, such asElf, or ones that aren't about Christmas at all but get shown during the festive season, such asDie Hard.

Broadly speaking we all get on well. My dad, Colin, is genial throughout, aided by copious quantities of red wine, my mother Pamela is a great cook and even my sister Sophie puts down her phone and joins in the fun. Plus, we play Monopoly and I always win, because I'm the only sober one. I mean, normally I like a drink, but when it comes to Monopoly I need to be wearing my game face. The other three make stupid decisions like selling me a property that completes my set. Let the housebuilding begin, suckers!

However, there is one recurring event that isn't so great. On Christmas night, once all the remains of our dinner are cleared and I've claimed my inevitable board game victory, my mother gets very drunk. She isn't normally a great drinker so that what she does have goes straight to her head. My dad and sister make their excuses and go to bed, leaving me to argue with Mum.

Christmas night, one year ago

"Finlay, I'm going to level with you, darling," my mother said. "Sarah's a sweet girl but she's not The One, is she? I mean, do you actually love her, really love her, Finlay?" I resisted the temptation to ask Mum to call me Finn, like everyone else on the planet managed to do.

In the past, the traditional Christmas arguments with my mother were always about politics, but for the last two years the topic of conversation had been my relationship with Sarah, my girlfriend. I met Sarah through a mutual friend three years ago and we quickly became an item. She lived with her mother, Donna, but often stayed at my apartment, usually at weekends. Sarah was twenty years old when we met, two years younger than me.

"Bloody hell, mother, do we have to have this same conversation again?" I replied, slightly exasperated. I was a little irritated because nothing had changed; I had nothing new to add to the conversation. "Listen, mother," I continued, "Sarah and I get on really well. She's cute, she's interesting to talk to, she makes me laugh and she cooks a lasagne that's the best I've ever tasted. Even better than yours, and that's saying something. Oh, and she likes cats."

"I know all that, Finlay," my mother snapped. Yep, the alcohol was taking effect, I thought. "But does she send thrills through you? Do you have fantastic sex? And more to the point, will you and her ever get married?"

"Oh god, mother, you had to bring up the S-word, didn't you?" I groaned. My sex life with Sarah was not something I wanted to talk to my mother about. Partly because it was embarrassing to discuss intimacy with her, but also because she'd touched a nerve. Sex with Sarah wasn't very good. At all.

When we first met, sex with her was great. Sarah was very pretty and had a fantastic body. She was petite at five foot two and was a natural blonde, with beautiful wavy hair that nearly reached her waist. Her full lips, bright blue eyes and perfect teeth were amazing, and she even had generous 32D breasts that her small frame highlighted. Slender legs and a firm little ass just made me fancy her even more.

Looking back, it was always me that initiated anything sexual. At first, I was so smitten with her, and so full of lust that it didn't matter that I had to take the lead. It also didn't matter that there some things she refused to do, because fucking her was great, and she seemed to enjoy having my cock in her pussy. Never once in her ass, though. "That's gross, Finn," she said on the two or three occasions I suggested it. "I'm not doing that. No way."

She also refused to suck my cock, because, she said, she hated the thought of my cum in her mouth. She did masturbate me, but she never talked dirty to me, no matter how many times I asked. She said she'd feel silly and uncomfortable using crude language. If she got cum on her hands or body, she'd rush to the bathroom to wash it off.

However, Sarah loved to have her pussy eaten. I could spend hours between her legs, licking her pussy lips, pushing my tongue inside her and swirling it over her clit. I remember one lazy Sunday spending all day in bed, pleasuring her pussy. She lay back on the pillows, enjoying the attention. I challenged her to cum five times, and she did. I would probably still be there now if it were possible.

"What do you think about when you're cumming?" I asked her, but she gave a vague reply along the lines of 'nothing in particular.' She declined to describe her sexual fantasies to me, claiming that she didn't have any, and was uninterested in hearing mine.

Another odd thing was that when we went out with friends, Sarah always dressed conservatively. She liked floaty dresses in the summer, and long trousers with a jacket in the cooler months. Unless, that is, she was on a night out with her girlfriends. Then, she would choose a sexy little black dress, high heels and tonnes of makeup. "I'm not trying to pull, Finn, don't be daft," she'd say. "I just want to fit in with the other girls."

My attention snapped back to the conversation with my mother. "Listen to me, Finlay," she said. "A couple that doesn't enjoy sex together is a couple that won't last, trust me. Your father and I did all sorts of naughty things when we were younger, until you and Sophie ruined my body, that is. But even now, we do some pretty spicy things in the bedroom, I can tell you."

"Mother, that's too much information!" I cried. But I had to admit that she had a point. Sarah wasn't cold or frigid, not at all. But she was very unadventurous when it came to sex, to the point where I wondered if she really liked it at all, apart from receiving oral. I never answered my mother's questions, but the truth was that Sarah did not thrill me and we didn't have fantastic sex. As a result, marriage was not an option for me. I was twenty-four and couldn't escape the feeling that I was missing out when it came to erotic fun.

One month later

It was late January, and the south coast of England had seen rain, often heavy, every day for the whole month. The skies remained grey and leaden, and even the weather presenters on TV looked bored with issuing the same forecast, day after day. It always tickled me that they said 'unsettled' when they really meant 'pissing down.' I'm sure I saw one of them yawning when delivering the same forecast yet again.

The grim weather combined with long dark nights meant that I was kept busy at work. I worked in the claims handling section of a motor insurer. When it was wet and dark, idiot drivers seemed to delight in colliding with one another, leading to insurance claims that I and my colleagues had to process.

"Hey, Finn," my colleague and best mate Danny called across the office. "Have you seen the new manager in New Business? She's hot, my friend, I'm telling you. You should find an excuse to have a wander past her office. She's a proper MILF, seriously." The new business section dealt with the setting up of all new policies, whereas my section was for claims by existing customers.

Ordinarily, the two sections had little to do with one another. However, I had been assigned a claim from a Miss Hopkins. Miss Hopkins managed to have an accident on literally the first day of her cover. This complicated things, because the system would not have her online account set up. It would require a manual intervention to process her claim.

I printed off the relevant paperwork and headed downstairs to New Business. The section manager there left just before Christmas, and the new boss had only started a few days previously. I was a tiny bit excited to see this hot MILF that Danny had told me about.

I knocked on the manager's door. The door's name holder was empty, presumably because there hadn't yet been time to create a new name badge. "Come in," a female voice responded. I bustled in to the office and was astonished to see Sarah's mother sat behind the desk.

"Fuck! Donna, what are you doing here?" I blurted, realising immediately that I'd said something totally stupid.

"I think you'll find that 'Good morning' is more appropriate, Finn," she replied, coolly. "But since you ask, I was on my way to do some shopping, and decided to pop in here in case they had any seats that needed warming. Seems like they did. I suppose you'd better call security, hmmm?" Her withering sarcasm immediately made my turn bright pink.

"God, I'm such an idiot," I said, "and sorry for swearing. I had no idea you were working here, Donna. Umm, welcome aboard. I assume you remembered I worked here?"

"Of course I remembered, Finn," she answered. "And I did wonder at the wisdom of taking a job for a business that was crazy enough to employ you, but so far so good." I must have pulled a face, because she added, "Hey, lighten up, I'm teasing. Now, have you come here for work reasons or just to be casually insulted?" She stood up, reaching for the slim file I was carrying.

I had never seen Donna in this light before. I'd said hello to her a few times when picking Sarah up from her house, and had even been invited in for a cup of tea on one occasion, but had barely said more than a few dozen words to her before this moment. She'd always been rushing to sort out laundry or cat litter or something similar.

At home, Donna wore jogging bottoms and a baggy sweatshirt, with no makeup applied. Now, she wore black patent leather pumps with a dangerously high heel, black tights, a black pencil skirt and a pale blue silk blouse. A smart jacket hung on the back of her chair. She wore discreet but classy makeup and smelled heavenly. I found it hard to believe that this was really Sarah's mother.

"Well," I replied, "if I had just wanted insults I would have stayed at my desk. My mate Danny has an Olympic gold medal in casual insults, but thanks anyway. Now, shall we have a chat about our Miss Hopkins?" Donna smiled, sat down and waved for me to take a seat across the desk. We discussed what to do with Miss Hopkins and agreed on a plan of action.

As I stood to leave, Donna said, "Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime, Finn? I'm curious to know more about how this company handles claims." I told her that I would like that. For my part, I was eager to see more of this new version of Sarah's mother.

I called Sarah once I was back at home that evening, having battled through torrential rain yet again. "You'll never guess who I met at work today," I said. I had my own two-bedroom apartment that my parents had stumped up a deposit for. They said they couldn't bear the odour of my smelly socks any longer and I must move out. Sarah, meanwhile, lived with her mother. She had no siblings, and her father had long since abandoned her and Donna. She never spoke of him.

"Yeah, she told me," Sarah replied. "She said you were a complete idiot, but she forgave you because you seemed to know your job. Five out of ten, improvement needed, was her verdict." I chuckled. For all my lukewarm feelings towards Sarah, she could always make me laugh. She'd inherited her mother's caustic wit.

I usually saw little or nothing of Sarah during the week. She was a trainee accountant, and was studying for exams necessary to progress her career. During the week she would spend her evenings learning about accounting standards or tax regulation, and did not wish to socialise. Typically, I heard little or nothing from her from Monday to Thursday. Originally, I'd hoped that would make her wildly horny come Friday night, but it didn't seem that was the case.

As I lay in bed that night, listening to the rain beating on the window and waiting for sleep to claim me, I found myself thinking about Donna. Not the baggy-clothed mother grumbling about her incontinent cat, but the sharply-dressed woman I'd encountered earlier.

I always sleep naked, and touched my cock, picturing Donna at work. A voice in my head told me that it was wrong to have sexy thoughts about my girlfriend's mother, but I realised I was feeling very horny, so banished those thoughts. My cock instantly stiffened. I threw back the duvet, closed my eyes, and began stroking.

I imagined entering Donna's office to find her bent over her desk, ready for me. She'd kept the black leather pumps, but now wore fishnet stockings and a tight black leather skirt. She'd removed her top, allowing her big breasts to spill onto the desk in front of her. "You'll have to be quick, big boy," I imagined her saying. "Give me what I need. Fuck me, Finn." She pulled her skirt up around her hips.

As I approached her I could see that she wore no panties. Her pussy lips glistened with dampness, and felt perfectly smooth and slick as I traced the tip of my cock up and down her dripping slit. There was not a hair in sight. I played with Donna's pussy lips for several minutes, ignoring her instruction to be quick. She moaned and groaned with desire.

"Let's see," I murmured, "does this horny MILF deserve a good hard fucking, I wonder?"

"Oh my god, yes, I need your cock in me so much," I pictured Donna pleading. "Stick it in my cunt, please!"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," I told her, "I will." She gasped as I thrust my full length into her slick wet pussy. I was impressed how tight she was. Her pussy walls gripped my cock so snugly that it felt delicious to slide all the way in, then nearly out, then in once more. If her pussy was this tight, I wondered, what must her ass be like?

"Faster, Finn," I imagined her urging. "Fuck me like the dirty bitch I am. Drain those balls into me, every last fucking drop!" She gripped the far edge of her desk, bracing herself against the hard fucking I was about to give her. Her tits splayed out on the polished mahogany desk, and she arched her hips upwards to maximise the depth of my thrusts.

"Take it, you slut!" I barked. "Take my cock like the whore you are!" I was now hammering into her, approaching the point of sweet release. My balls slapped against her ass cheeks as I buried myself in her, over and over.

To my delight, we came together. The power of my deep thrusts inside her stretched pussy, combined with the edge of her desk grinding against her clit, sent her into a shattering climax. "Oh my god, Finn, I'm cumming!" she cried. "Fuck! So good! Mmmmmm, yes, oh god yes, OH SHIT! YESSSSS BABY!" I felt her pussy convulse around my stiff cock as she yelled her climax, pushing back against me to maximise her pleasure.

Her climax sent me into orbit, and I came too. My balls tightened then spurted thick creamy cum deep, deep inside her pussy, filling her with my seed and flooding her with hot ropes of spunk. Back in my bedroom, the images I'd created had the same effect. I shot endless spurts of jizz onto my tummy, around my groin and over my hands, which I then licked clean. I love to taste my own cum.

In my fantasy, I stayed buried in her for ages as her breathing returned to normal. Eventually, I slipped out of her, admiring the trickle of white cum that dribbled from her freshly-fucked pussy and down her fishnet stockings. "Same time tomorrow, Finn?" she asked, and I nodded in agreement before silently leaving her office.

Three days later, Enrico's café, near my workplace

Donna had asked for a coffee date with me, ostensibly to learn more about the claims process. I arrived first and took a seat at the back. Enrico himself took my order of a hot chocolate. Donna arrived, shook off her umbrella, and spotted me. She wore figure-hugging black leather trousers, ankle boots and a big, fluffy pink angora sweater. She had applied dramatic pink eye shadow and purple lipstick. She looked red hot, to my eyes.

We chatted about the terrible weather, about work's claims process and pondered ordering some chocolate cake, which we then did. "You naughty person, Finn," she giggled. "Encouraging me to have far too many calories. You are a bad influence, young man. Naughty but nice."

"What, me or the cake?" I asked.

"Both," she said. She held my gaze before saying, "Now listen, I have an invite for you. Next month, they want me to attend a two day midweek conference in Leeds. It's just to do a bit of networking, hear some speeches and sound out the competition, apparently. The budget allows me to take an assistant. There'll be a hotel for overnight, dinner too. Interested?"

I took a big bite of Enrico's legendary and delicious chocolate cake. I could feel my arteries clogging as I swallowed six months' worth of calories. "Umm, don't you think Sarah will mind? And won't she think it odd that we're both away at the same time?" I said.

"No, why should she?" Donna answered. "You two often don't even speak during the week anyway. We'll have separate rooms, and it'll all be very professional. I mean, I couldn't possibly do anything unethical with my daughter's boyfriend, could I? That would never do." The glint in her eye as she spoke was unmistakeable. "And of course, I won't tell her if you don't."

One month later

We'd agreed that we would make our own way to London King's Cross station and would meet in the concourse before boarding the train to Leeds. Donna had bought two return tickets to Leeds and had reserved two seats together. Everything was on expenses, she had assured me. I wouldn't even need to bring my credit card.

It was a busy Tuesday morning and the station was packed with commuters and tourists. I scanned the concourse looking for Donna, but there were people everywhere and I could not spot her. Finally I saw her come up the escalator from the underground. She wheeled a travel suitcase behind her and strode towards me with a purposeful air.

Donna looked sensational. She was forty-one years old but looked younger. Sarah told me that Donna worked out at the gym two or three times each week, played social badminton weekly, and liked to go swimming at the local leisure centre. All of which explained her slender, toned body, although her generous breasts were more God-given than earned via exercise.

Sarah's blonde hair was clearly inherited from her mother, although Donna had chosen a much shorter, shoulder length cut. She wore a close-fitting black top underneath a heavy black leather biker jacket adorned with metal studs. I admired her shapely, toned legs as she approached me, not that I could miss them. Donna wore her favourite black ankle boots, black tights and a sizzling black leather skirt that barely covered her modesty. I assumed that when we arrived at the conference she would change into something rather more conventional.

Thirty minutes later, we sat beside one another as the train eased out of King's Cross station, before rolling through the grey semi-industrial landscape of north London. A girl wheeled a trolley down the aisle and Donna asked for two flat whites, which cost around ten thousand pounds or something equally exorbitant. Donna said, "Here's to business expenses, eh?"

She explained that the first conference event was afternoon tea, with an opportunity to network with fellow delegates. This would be followed by a welcome speech. The following day, Wednesday, would be full of workshops and speeches with a gala dinner to round things off. We would make the return trip home on Thursday morning.