My Girlfriend's MILF Read Free Page A

sip of the pungent brandy and put the glass down on the coffee table.
    “So, how’s college?” she asks me, gesturing at the couch as she takes a seat at the far end of it.
    I sit down on the other corner of the couch and cross one leg over the other. I take another sip of the brandy, feeling the alcohol burn its way through me. This is happening, I tell myself. This is fucking happening.
    “Great,” I say, looking at her and then looking away. “I mean, it’s all right. I like my classes this semester.”
    She nods as she takes a sip from her glass. It is almost done, and she finishes the drink and gets up to make herself another. In the meantime I continue to talk, spewing inane details about my classes and professors, my prowess on the lacrosse team, my heroics in intra-mural basketball.
    She listens carefully, nodding and smiling as I spout all this shit, but I can tell she’s also thinking about something else, the elephant in the room, the unspoken knowledge that I am here for one reason and one reason only.
    To fuck Ms. Beth Carson, my girlfriend’s MILF.
    To fuck her to hell and back.

8
    M y drink is almost done and I feel a head-rush that is part desire, part drunkenness. I realize I have not eaten anything since noon, and the alcohol is hitting me hard. We have been talking for almost thirty minutes, and by now I am shamelessly looking at her with want, need, and desire in my eyes.
    I look at her large brown eyes, long eyelashes. There are hints of bags beneath those eyes, but they only serve to add some character to her undeniably beautiful face. Her lips are smooth and unpainted, with perhaps a light, transparent gloss applied to them. She wears no makeup, and her skin, while not perfect, looks smooth in the soft yellow light of the living room.
    I let my gaze travel down her neck. Her robe has opened up a bit, and the black silk top has two buttons undone. I can see the hint of cleavage from where I sit—the crease between her heavy boobs prominent and inviting. I want to put my cock right on that crease. I want to titty-fuck her with my dick as she sits there on the couch and looks up at me. I want to watch my young, rock-hard dick move up from her tits and towards her lips as she opens up and lets me gently fuck her in the mouth. Oh, fuck, I might cum in my pants right now, untouched. I need to move this forward right now.
    As if she can read my mind, she turns to me and looks me directly in the eye, as if to say that I’m going to have to bring it up, take the risk, make the first move. I take a deep breath and suck down the dregs of my brandy drink, wincing as the alcohol cuts through my consciousness.
    “Richie,” she says now, before I can say or do anything. “I understand the attraction. The sense of doing something forbidden, taboo, wrong. I understand it. But—”
    “—but what?” I say now, feeling some anger rise up in me. I don’t want to play games anymore. There should be no guesswork involved, no beating around the bush. I’m here to fuck, and if she wasn’t into it, she should have told me earlier. I’m not leaving this house without fucking this woman, without pinching her breasts until she screams, without slapping her round, soft ass until it’s red all over, without seeing her pussy spread wide before me as she lies there helpless and begging, completely in my control.
    I feel myself stiffen, and my pants feel very tight right now. I stand up and make my way a couple of paces along the couch, and I put my knee on the couch cushion next to her and lean forward.
    My face is so close to hers that I can feel her breath on my cheek, and as I get close to kissing her, I reach into her robe with my right hand.
    She grabs my hand and turns her face away, but I can smell her desire just like I can taste my own carnal needs. She knows where this is going, I tell myself. She can stop it, if she wants. She can say “No!” and throw me out.
    But she won’t say no. She wants this