My Girlfriend's Mother

Good Friday

Three hours in Chloe's shit Polo with her banging on about her promotion. I kept pressing my foot through the gap between the seats, finding Diana's spine, a little reminder of what was coming. She'd shift forward, then back, pressing against it.

"You alright back there, babe?" Chloe checked the mirror.

"Yeah, just stretching."

The cottage was fucking perfect. I'd found it online last month, properly remote, down some track that looked like it hadn't been resurfaced since the 80s. I showed Diana the listing while Chloe was in the shower, my hand down her pyjama bottoms, my finger on her clit.

"No neighbours," I'd said, making her look at the photos while working her. "Hear that? No one to hear you."

She came right there, biting her own hand to keep quiet.

"Big bedroom's mine!" Chloe announced, dragging her case upstairs. Course it was. With Daddy's money paying for most of it, she might as well claim the good bed.

Diana got the small room, with a single bed and an iron frame. I tested it when no one was looking, yeah, that would make some noise. She watched from the doorway, already breathing differently.

"It'll wake her," she said.

"Not after three bottles of wine it won't."

Dinner was almost funny. We were playing happy families while her mum kept shifting in her chair. See, I'd made her wear the remote control vibrator I'd bought. I controlled it from my phone. Every time Chloe started some boring story about work, I'd give her a little buzz, watching her try to cut her chicken while her cunt was getting pulsed.

"To Easter," Chloe said, raising her glass. She was already on her second.

"To resurrection," I said, giving her mum a long pulse.

She knocked over the salt. Chloe laughed. "Mum, you're so clumsy lately!"

If only she knew her mum was trying not to come at the dinner table.

After dinner, Chloe wanted a walk. She was already pissed and stumbling in the sand. Diana followed, and I could see the wet spot on her jeans. The vibrator had done its job.

"Remember when we came here when I was little?" Chloe asked, going all nostalgic.

The second she wandered off for a piss, Diana grabbed me. She properly grabbed me, her hand on my cock through my jeans.

"Now," she said, not asking.

I pulled her behind the dunes. She was already undoing her jeans and pushing them down. The smell of her, fuck me, she was soaked.

"Someone could..." I started, just to wind her up.

"Shut up and fuck me."

So I did. No foreplay needed. She was so wet I slid in easy, her gasping into my shoulder. The samphire crunched under us, probably staining everything green.

Then footsteps. I froze, balls-deep in her. It was some old boy with a Labrador. The dog saw us and started coming over, its tail wagging.

"Charlie! Here!"

She clenched around me so hard I nearly came right there. The danger of it. Her breathing in my ear, trying to stay silent. The dog fucked off. As soon as they were gone, sge started moving herself, grinding down on me.

"Harder. Please. Fucking need it."

I gave her what she wanted. Hard and fast, her legs wrapped around me, her heels digging into my arse. She came with this broken sound, like something breaking open.

"The sea," I said after, pulling out, my cum dripping down her thigh. "Go wash."

"It's April. It's fucking freezing."

"You love it. The shock after."

She did. I watched her wade in fully clothed, the gasp when the cold hit.

Back at the cottage, Chloe was concerned. "Jesus, Mum, what happened?"

"Fell. Wasn't watching where I was going."

"You're soaked!"

She caught my eye over Chloe's shoulder, a little smile on her face. She was still high from it.

---

Saturday

I told Chloe I was going for a run. She barely looked up from Instagram.

"Since when do you run?"

"New year's resolution." It was April, but whatever.

I texted her mum: "Bird hide. Path split. Wear the black ones."

She'd packed what I'd told her to, crotchless knickers, because I'm efficient like that. She made some excuse about coffee. I watched her leave, knowing what she had on underneath her sensible walking clothes.

I already had my kit off when she arrived at the hide, just standing there naked, cock hard, waiting.

She laughed, actually burst out laughing. "Christ, you're keen."

"Look what you do to me."

She stripped slowly, revealing the lingerie. Black lace, those stockings with the line up the back. My cock actually twitched.

"Someone could walk in," she said, but she was already wet. I could see it through the crotchless bit.

"Someone could."

She straddled me on the bench. The wood was rough, I was probably getting splinters in my arse, but I didn't care. She sank down on me with a sound that was half moan, half laugh.

"Fuck, you feel good," she said, starting to move.

The bench was creaking like mad, her tits in my face. I sucked her nipples through the lace while she rode me. It was a perfect Saturday morning.

Then, voices outside. Twitchers with their massive binoculars.

"Don't stop," I told her.

"Are you mental?"

"Don't stop."

She kept going, slower now, grinding rather than bouncing. The voices were getting closer. The door handle turned.

"Oh! Oh fucking Christ..."

Some old codger with binoculars. And behind him--this was brilliant--some posh woman who clearly knew her.

"Diana? Diana Bennett?"

Diana just sat there, my cock still in her. She looked the woman dead in the eye.

"Margaret."

Margaret's face was a picture. Her mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish's. She was looking between us, Diana in her fifties, me obviously mid-twenties. The maths weren't hard to do.

I just winked at the old boy and gave him a thumbs up. They practically ran out. I could hear Margaret outside: "Was that Professor Bennett's wife? With that young man?"

"She saw," Diana breathed once they'd gone.

"You're still riding me," I pointed out. She hadn't stopped moving.

"I know. Can't... can't stop. Fuck, I'm going to come."

"Come then. Let them hear."

She did. Loud. Properly loud. The birds outside actually flew off. I felt her cunt gripping me, pulsing. It made me come too, filling her up.

"Jesus Christ," she panted, slumped against me. "Margaret Thompson knows everyone in Cambridge."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. Now you're free. No more pretending to be the perfect professor's wife."

She kissed me then. It was messy, with lots of tongue. I could taste her desperation.

Saturday evening, we played cards at the table. My foot was between Diana's legs while Chloe got steadily more pissed. Diana had changed into a skirt, with no knickers, as instructed. My big toe found her clit under the table.

"I'm shattered," Chloe announced around eleven. "That sea air."

We waited twenty minutes. Her snoring like a fucking freight train.

"Garden. Now."

Diana stood up immediately. She already knew the drill.

Outside, the air was freezing. I could see her nipples through her top immediately.

"Everything off."

She stripped without hesitation, standing there naked in the garden.

"On the grass."

She lay down. The grass was wet with dew. I saw her shiver. I stayed fully clothed. I just unzipped and pulled my cock out. The contrast, her naked and freezing, me fully dressed.

"Beg for it."

"Please."

"Better."

"Please fuck me. Need your cock. Need you to use me out here."

So I did. Slow and deep, making it last. Her hands grabbed at the grass, her back arching. She looked mental, a middle-aged woman getting fucked on a lawn at midnight. Fucking beautiful.

I pulled out and came on her stomach. The heat of it made her gasp.

"Stay there. Count to one hundred."

"What?"

"Count."

I left her there, watching from the kitchen window as she lay there, my cum cooling on her skin, actually counting out loud.

At seventy-ish, I heard Chloe's voice:

"Mum? What the actual fuck?"

I stayed hidden, watching. Diana didn't even try to cover herself.

"Having a moment," Diana said, weirdly calm.

"A moment? You're naked in the garden covered in... Jesus, is that?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Chloe threw her cardigan over her mother, then pulled her inside. Diana played along, letting Chloe think she'd gone mental rather than admit the truth.

I came out looking all concerned. "Everything alright?"

"Found Mum in the garden. Naked. Having some kind of... episode."

"Oh shit. Diana, you okay?"

"We need to get you help," Chloe said. "This isn't normal."

*Normal.* If only she knew what normal had become in her mother's house.

---

Easter Sunday

Church was Chloe's idea. "Might help Mum feel... grounded."

That morning, while Chloe was in the shower, I stood in Diana's doorway.

"Black hold-ups. Those reading glasses I like. Nothing else under your skirt."

"To church?"

"Especially to church."

The look she gave me. Fear and want mixed together.

St. Nicholas Church was packed. Everyone was in their Sunday best. Diana in her wool coat, proper skirt, those glasses making her look like a sexy librarian. My own personal wank fantasy was sitting between me and her daughter.

During "Christ the Lord is Risen Today," as everyone stood and belted it out, I slipped my hand under the coat. I found skin above the stocking lace, no knickers. Already wet. Good girl.

Two fingers in during the second verse. Diana was gripping the pew, trying to keep singing. Her glasses were fogging up.

"Mum, you alright?" Chloe asked.

"Just... moved. By the service."

"Since when are you religious?"

Since I started fingering her in churches, probably.

The vicar droned on about transformation. I worked Diana steadily under the coat. I could feel her getting close. Her thighs were trembling.

She came during the Lord's Prayer. Silent, shaking, while everyone muttered about daily bread. Chloe's eyes were closed, actually praying. She was missing her mother orgasming right next to her.

I pulled my fingers out, soaked. I wiped them on the hymnal, pages sticking together.

I was shaking hands with the vicar, my fingers still sticky. He was none the wiser that he'd got Diana's cunt juice on his palm. Then the old lady behind us. I was spreading it through the congregation like communion wine.

That evening, Chloe's herbal tea had a little help. Zopiclone from Diana's bathroom cabinet. She was out cold by midnight.

Diana was waiting, still in the stockings and glasses, nothing else.

"My dirty professor," I said, pushing into her. The glasses slid down her nose.

"Your professor who comes in churches..."

I fucked her hard in that tiny single bed. The iron frame was banging against the wall. I didn't care about the noise.

"Next Sunday," I said, her legs over my shoulders, her glasses bouncing with each thrust. "We're going back to church."

"Yes. God, yes."

We fucked three times that night. Different positions. Her on top, riding me while I sucked her tits. From behind, pulling her hair. Finally, her legs over my shoulders, folding her in half, the glasses finally falling off.

"I can't... can't come again," she gasped after the third time.

"Yes you can."

I worked her clit with my fingers while fucking her. I felt her cunt clench one more time, weaker but still there. Her whole body was shaking.

"Good girl," I said, pulling out. "My good, dirty girl."

---

Easter Monday

We drove back to Diana's house, our house, really. We'd been living there for six months now, saving for our own place. Chloe was watching her mother in the mirror.

"We need to get you help, Mum. Therapy or something."

"Maybe," Diana agreed, catching my eye in the mirror.

"What happened this weekend... it's not normal."

*Normal.* I'd been fucking her mother for months in the house we all shared. In her bed while Chloe was at work. On the kitchen table. In the shower while Chloe thought I was having a morning wank.

Back home, Chloe was fussing, making appointments. "Dr. Patterson has a cancellation Thursday."

"I'll take Mum," I offered. "You've got that presentation."

"Would you? You're so good with her."

Yeah. Really good with her.

I waited until Chloe was asleep. I found Diana in the kitchen, washing up. I came up behind her, my hand sliding under her nightie.

"This weekend was insane," she whispered.

"This weekend was perfect."

"Margaret will tell everyone."

"Let her." My fingers found her cunt, already wet. "You loved it. Being caught. Being seen."

"Yes," she admitted, pushing back against me.

---

Tuesday

The next day Chloe was at work, worrying about her mum and texting every hour. "How is she? Make sure she takes her medication. The therapist is Thursday, don't forget!"

Diana was bent over the kitchen table with my cock in her arse. This was the first time we'd done anal properly. We'd been working up to it for weeks, first with fingers, then with that silver plug I'd bought her. She'd been wearing it all morning. "Need to feel it differently," she'd said after breakfast, showing me the lube she'd hidden behind the olive oil. "Been thinking about it since you put that plug in me yesterday."

A new text came from Chloe: "Is Mum okay? She seemed quiet this morning." I typed back one-handed while working more lube into: "She's fine. Keeping her occupied." Diana laughed, then gasped as I pulled the plug out. "Tell her... tell her I'm gardening."

"Your mum's gardening," I typed. I started pushing in, slow, really slow. She breathed through it. "Good! Fresh air helps depression!"

If only she knew what kind of seed was getting planted. Finally I was all the way in, she adjusted, relaxing into it. "Move," she said. "Careful but... yeah, like that."