“You can’t do that, you can’t mark me, Jim…”
“Jim? I don’t give a fuck about Jim. You take care of us first.”
A voice outside. “Come on, I can hear you in there.”
Milo waved a hand at the door. Emilia glared at him, then rushed at the door all at once before she lost her nerve. She flung it open, and a beautiful young woman with raven black hair stood there gaping, a plastic bag stuffed full of food in one hand.
“Thank you,” Emilia gasped, and snatched the food out of the woman’s hand. She started to swing the door shut, but the woman put a hand out.
“You need to sign,” she croaked.
Milo got up and padded behind Emilia. His rock-hard cock slid between her ass cheeks and he sucked the other side of her neck before swatting her ass cheek again. “Slut, she told you to sign.”
The delivery woman’s eyes went even bigger, and she gasped. Emilia stammered out an apology and took the proffered receipt and pen with a shaky hand. Milo grinned over her shoulder as he began to undo the buttons on her blouse.
Emilia signed and gave the receipt back. Milo said, “Want a taste?” The delivery woman turned and fled, and Milo slammed the door in her wake, spinning Emilia around and pushing her back against it. Anger made her face flushed, but he gave zero shits as he grabbed her cheeks and crushed his lips to hers again. The bag of food dropped to the floor and she clutched at his face too, panting against him. One of his hands dropped and he plunged three fingers into her pussy, finger fucking her hard. She grabbed his dick in response. He was so thick she almost couldn’t get a hand completely around him.
“Spit on it,” he growled against her. “Get it wet for your hand.” She stopped to raise a hand to her face, but he grabbed it and shoved it down by her side. “No, slut, on your knees. Spit on my prick.”
Emilia dropped. Her hands gripped his dick as she glared fire up at him. Her mouth lowered until it was right over his dick, and she spat once, twice, a pause, then a third time. Emilia rose back up and grabbed his hand to place it back at her cunt. It was a race to see who made the other come first, one Emilia thought with a sinking feeling she was going to lose — again.
“Do you like that, baby?” she asked, her voice going sweet. “This hot MILF jacking you off?”
“Uh huh,” Milo grunted. His free hand slid up inside her blouse and he squeezed one of her tits.
“When you come, come on them, Milo. My sweet Milo. Come all over your best friend’s mom’s tits.”
“Fuck,” he grunted, his ass flexing hard as he pumped his cock into her hand and fingered her harder and harder. Her pleasure was already building again. She lifted a knee and planted a foot back against the door, spreading her hips wider for him.
“Come for me, baby, come for me, let me feel that hot fucking come all over my tits.”
Milo’s fingers jerked out from her pussy and he ripped at the blouse. And it did rip — buttons didn’t go flying like in some bad romance, but the fabric tore and hung down her shoulder at an angle, leaving one of her breasts clad only in her black bra. She threw her head back hard enough to bang against the door when he dropped his mouth to her nipple and sucked it through the fabric.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes, suck me, baby, suck my tit,” she gasped. She didn’t notice his hand under her skirt again. All she felt was the nuzzling of his mouth, the fabric scratching against her skin, the pleasure flowing from her core all over again. When he plunged four of his fingers inside her cunt, that was it. Her foot slammed down and she wailed, “Oh, shit, ohhhhh shit, MILO!”
She gushed on his hand a second time, and third if she counted the orgasm he gave her with the foot massage. A fucking third time. When was the last time Jim had brought her to three orgasms? In their twenties? It was his face she thought about as she came and came and came. Not a thought of love, but of contempt. In that moment she hated Jim. Hated his pumping and his tired few minutes of foreplay. In this young man’s hands she’d come three times so hard she was faint with it. Milo owned her. Maybe the other boys would be good too, she didn’t know, but if they managed even half of what Milo could, she was going to be broken for Jim forever.
Emilia sank. She didn’t mean to. The pleasure was just too much. Milo jerked his hand out and steadied her, helping her down onto her ass as she leaned back against the door. Once her eyes fluttered and her breathing started back up again, his cock was there, right in her face, and he was jerking it with wild abandon, his need blazing in his eyes. She opened her mouth, to suck him down, to lick him to do something, but he was aiming lower, and coming, coming, coming. So very fucking much come. It hit her bared breast, her blouse, her nipple through the fabric of the bra. Then he was aiming higher, coming all over her face, shot after shot after shot in a never-ending flow of him. Some of it dripped along her lips and she licked them instinctively, staring up at him, tasting his salty bitterness and craving more. She raised a wavering hand to jerk at his spent cock. He caught it, and instead lifted her almost effortlessly to her feet.
The minutes after he came were something of a mess of images in Emilia’s mind. She remembered Milo depositing her on the couch, gentle after their furious lovemaking — or fingering, anyways. She remembered a flash of him leaving for a moment and mewling for him to come back while desperately wishing he wouldn’t. Shame. She remembered looking at a picture of Jim and feeling the hot flush of shame and something baser. Something more primal.
But then Milo was back with her, taking care of her, wiping her down and kissing her softly again. She leaned her forehead against his and cried, and instead of comforting her, he knelt down again, and slid the bra off her breasts. Without a word, he started sucking at her nipple again as she cried and cried and cried.
In minutes, Milo was rock hard again, panting over her as he fucked her breasts with hard strokes that ended with him nearly hitting her chin. She looked aside again at that picture of Jim and Landon, and hated herself not for feeling guilty, but for feeling so goddamn horny that she would have done anything to have Milo’s cock filling her cunt deep.
When he’d come all over her again, Milo cleaned her off once more. He watched as she stood up on shaky legs and made her way to the bathroom to examine the bite marks and the bruises and the spank on her ass. She looked like she’d just been through the wringer. She looked like she’d just been well and properly fucked for the first time in a very, very long while.
She turned to tell Milo that she wanted him. Wanted him now. But he was already gone.
* * *
For Jaxton, it was just another day of getting his dick wet. He powered through a morning workout in the gym his parents made out of their garage. His dad was a workout freak too, something that bonded them together. Wasn’t so big on football, but he showed up to every one of Jaxton’s games that he could make it to, and always when they went to divisionals and state. His parents even drove up to see three of his college games, and that was no joke. His mom hated watching him play because she hated the potential that he might get hurt. Plus, it was a hell of a long drive — four hours each way. The first time Jaxton saw them there, he was proud as hell. The third time, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he had the best parents in the world.
Of course, Landon’s mom was always a favorite too, but for other reasons.
He was the only one of the boys to have seen her tits — well, before Milo fingered her to a few orgasms and then tit-fucked her. Not even Mrs. Candless knew about it. It was by pure freakish accident. Jaxton had been sleeping over, and woke up early in the morning to take a leak. The Candless household had two bathrooms, one of which had been unusable because they were in the middle of retiling it. Jaxton headed for the other one, hearing Mr. and Mrs. Candless talking. They must have forgot that they were sharing a bathroom, because they’d left the door cracked. Jaxton was going to turn around, but he caught the view of the mirror and his jaw nearly hit the damn floor.
Mrs. Candless, nude, stood in portrait to the mirror. She was bent over, her knee raised. Maybe shaving her legs or something. She never looked at the mirror. Those big tits hung like teardrops, and Jaxton stared at them until his hard-on poked through his boxers.
It had been one of the greatest days of his younger years. Now, though, he had a slew of memories that nearly drowned out that one.
Leave a Reply