Tag: SC MILF

The Delivery Boy And The MILF

Geoffrey is nineteen and has taken a summer job as a bike courier, hustling documents from one office to another. Near the end of the day, he makes a stop at his favorite stop — the office where Cassandra works.

Cassandra is a MILF through and through. At least twice Geoffrey’s age, she’s got the maturity and experience he craves in a woman, plus the fact that she has a bangin’ bod only adds to her appeal. He’s had more than one late night one-handed session thinking about her.

Just as he’s dropped off the package and is about to head on to his next stop, Cassandra steps out of her office and beckons to him. It’s almost like something out of one of those late night fantasies — she calls him into her office, closes the door, and talks about how he needs to do better to please her.

But it crosses the line from fantasy to reality when she closes the blinds and sheds her clothes.

Soon, Geoffrey is living out all of his wildest fantasies.

The Delivery Boy And The MILF is a 4,500-word short story.

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Excerpt

“Geoffrey!”

I don’t have to look. I know that voice. Cassandra Miller, the office manager here. She is a banging hot MILF but intimidating as fuck. I always get both a boner and a shudder of fear every time we cross paths.

When I slowly turn to face her, I feel my dick grow hard and I struggle to suppress a shudder. Every damn time.

“Yes?” I squeak out. I clear my throat and try to deepen my voice. “Yes, Ms. Miller?”

She puts her hand on her hips, a position that makes the open neck of her button-up shirt stretch open just a little more, giving just a hint of the fullness of her cleavage. She’s absolutely gorgeous. Blonde hair cut just at her shoulders, smooth face, banging body, full boobs, and a hot hourglass figure.

I’ve jacked off many times while thinking about her.

“Come with me,” she says and turns on her heel, sashaying to her office door just around the corner from the reception desk. I watch her ass swing side to side in that tight black skirt of hers.

I try to look casual and hold the clipboard in front of my crotch and then hurry after her. When I round the corner to her office door, I find her waiting for me. I squeeze past her and she shuts her door. This is how some of my masturbatory fantasies have started — so it’s not helping me control my boner.

“Sit down,” she says in a tone of voice that clearly says don’t fuck with me, boy.

I obediently sit, secretly thankful for the momentary excuse to legitimately put the clipboard over my straining dick.

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The Pool Boy and The MILF

Tommy has a thing for MILFs. One MILF in particular — Mrs. Williams — has caught his eye and he secretly lusts after her while he cleans her pool. One on particularly hot summer day, Mrs. Williams comes out with a pitcher of lemonade to help him cool down… but things soon get scorching hot… and Tommy’s wildest MILF fantasy comes true…

The Pool Boy And The MILF is a 3,600-word short story.

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Excerpt

The sound of the back door turns my attention back to the house. Mrs. Williams is walking toward me with a tray containing a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.

“You’re looking a little hot, Tommy,” she says, with a warm smile. “Thought you might need a drink to cool you down.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Williams, I definitely do.” I lay the net down on the deck and join her at the poolside table. She places the tray down and pours lemonade into the glasses. When she hands me my glass, our fingers touch and I get a sudden jolt to my dick. It was a passing touch, harmless, but with where my mind is right now, it’s an incredible turn on.

I chug back half the glass, hoping the cold lemonade will cool the inferno of my building lust. Then I watch her take a dainty sip from her glass and then follow a bead of perspiration as it rolls down her neck and into the hollow of her cleavage.

She’s got a tight, white T-shirt on, with what looks like a floral bikini top beneath. Her outfit is finished off with cut-off jeans that ride high on her tanned thighs.

The lemonade is doing nothing to cool me down. My cock is at full attention, surely tenting my shorts if I would dare to look down.

Mrs. Williams quickly eyes me up and down and lets out a soft chuckle. My cheeks warm with a blush of embarrassment — I know she saw my boner tenting my shorts.

“Call me Sharon,” she says, as she puts her glass down on the tray. She takes a moment to stretch, thrusting her chest toward me. My eyes lock on her tits and my mind empties.

“Huh?”

She chuckles again and says, “You don’t need to call me Mrs. Williams. Sharon is nicer. It’s more … intimate.”

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