Tag: SC MILF

The Frat Boy And The MILF

Jason is a frat boy with a thing for older women.

He prefers the experience and maturity these women bring—they’re so much better in bed than the sorority girls he typically hooks up with. Only a MILF can truly satisfy him. So when Jane stops by his frat house to take some photos for an upcoming college life promotional campaign, he can’t help but be captivated by this gorgeous MILF. From the size of her tits to the huskiness of her voice, she’s got it all—and he’s got it bad.

The photoshoot starts innocently enough with Jane just taking pictures of the living space of the frat house, but then it gets playful when she asks him to pose for a few photos.

Through it all, Jason can’t tell if she’s as interested in him as he is in her, or if her turning him into her model is all just for the benefit of the photoshoot. But then she finds out he’s a football player with the body that goes along with it—and she asks him to strip down to his underwear.

Jason’s horniest fantasy is about to come true.

The Frat Boy And The MILF is a 5,000 word short story.

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Excerpt

I held the football in the crook of my arm and just stood there, trying to give her my best smile. She walked around me, snapping pics from different angles and different heights. I noticed that she made sure not to capture the corner of the room in the any of the pics, the corner where my mirror hung on the wall, and Playboy centerfolds were posted all around it. In between pics, I side-eyed the mirror to ensure there weren’t any dried cum streaks on it. That was my masturbation corner.

“Huh,” she said as she flipped through the photos.

“What’s wrong?” I tried to crane my neck to see over the top of the camera, to se what was setting that unpleasant look on her face.

But then she looked up at me with a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “That shirt isn’t really making you look athletic. Um...would you mind taking it off?” She glanced away when she asked the question, like she was embarrassed or turned on. Hopefully it’s because she was turned on.

“No problem,” I said as I lifted my shirt over my head. I wanted to rip it right off, but I had to play it cool.
I think she thought I wasn’t looking her way, but I caught her eyeing my chest and her eyes flaring open. I think she also made a mmm sound.

But as soon as I tossed my shirt on top of the laundry basket and looked back her way, she was all professional again. I picked up the football again and she took some more pics. Eventually, she got down on her knees in front of me to take photos from that low vantage point.

“Perfect,” she murmured as she paused to look through a couple photos. She was still on the floor, sitting on her heels.

It didn’t escape my attention that her face was at the level of my dick. When she looked up at me, my now prominent bulge was in our direct line of sight. She didn’t notice it, or at least did a damn good job of ignoring it. I didn’t know if I should take that as a good sign or not; it at least didn’t make her uncomfortable. Maybe she was just a tease?

“One more pose,” she said as she stood up. As she got to her feet, her shoulder brushed along the length of my shaft in a way that I could only describe as being fully on purpose. She pointed at my bed. “Sit there, leaning against the wall.”

I did as ordered. My bed squeaked when I got on it, but quieted down as soon as I was seated and leaning my back against the wall. It was then that I realized I’d left the football on the floor and out of reach.

“Can you pass me that?” I asked, pointing to it.

“No need,” she said, stepping closer. She got down on her knees and rested her elbows on the bed and snapped a few pictures. She looked at the display and smiled. “Perfect.” She snapped a few more. “Would you, uh, be open to taking off your pants? I mean, you’re wearing underwear, right?”

“My-my pants?”

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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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