MILF For Hire

I opened my eyes that Saturday morning with my cock already hard and throbbing under the sheets. Six weeks of cutting lawns under the blazing sun, hauling bags of mulch, and saving every spare dollar had finally paid off. Two hundred bucks sat folded in an envelope inside my biology textbook. Tonight I was going to fuck a real woman. Not some tight-assed college girl who needed three drinks and a half hour of soft kissing before she’d let me near her pussy. A full-grown MILF. Forty-two years old, stacked, experienced, and according to her ad, hungry for young cock.

Jimmy snored on the other bed. My best friend since middle school. His mom Wendy had always been the hottest woman either of us knew. Blonde, big tits, round ass, legs that went on forever. Half the guys on the soccer team used to jack off thinking about her. I had too. More than once I’d stolen a pair of her panties from the laundry basket when I slept over and wrapped them around my dick while I came. Those days felt like a lifetime ago. Now I was twenty, home for the summer, and about to pay two hundred dollars to a stranger who looked a hell of a lot like the fantasy version of Jimmy’s mother.

I slid my hand under the covers and stroked myself slow, eyes closed, picturing the woman in the ad. Black stockings, lace bra that barely held those heavy tits, long blonde hair falling over her shoulders. In my head she dropped to her knees the second I walked into the motel room, swallowed my cock to the root, and begged me to fuck her face. Then she’d bend over the bed, reach back, spread her ass, and tell me to wreck her pussy any way I wanted. Older women didn’t play games. They knew what they liked and they took it.

Cum spurted across my stomach before I could stop it. I bit my lip hard so Jimmy wouldn’t hear. Sticky and breathing hard, I wiped myself with the sheet and rolled out of bed once he finally got up and headed downstairs. By the time I showered and joined him for breakfast Wendy was already gone. Jimmy said she had a double shift at the cocktail lounge again. Something about that never sat right. Wendy always looked too put-together for bar work, too expensive. Full makeup, tight skirts, heels that clicked like she was walking into a different world.

We did three lawns that day. Mrs. Clancy’s double lot put another forty each in our pockets. I went home, locked my bedroom door, and pulled up the ad for the hundredth time.

Milf for Hire.

The picture still made my mouth go dry. Neck down, black lingerie, hands cupping those perfect heavy tits, nipples visible through the sheer fabric. Long blonde hair. Soft thighs. An ass that looked like it would jiggle when you slammed into it from behind. The text was pure filth.

Tired of skinny little girls who just lie there? This forty-two-year-old slut loves young hard cock. Two hundred gets you everything. Mouth, pussy, whatever you want. I cum too. I like it rough. I like it deep. I like it when you pull my hair and call me your whore.

I typed the reply with shaking fingers.

Looking for tonight. Twenty years old. Two hundred cash. Can I eat your pussy first?

The answer came in under five minutes.

Text me, baby. Let’s make sure you’re real.

I used a burner number I’d bought for exactly this. Within minutes we had a time and place. Gateway Motel on Hartford Ave, room 12, eight o’clock. Wear the black stockings. Bring the cash.

By seven-thirty I was parked two blocks away at the bowling alley, heart slamming against my ribs. The motel looked exactly like the kind of place where dirty things happened. Doors opening onto the parking lot, flickering neon, the smell of cheap cigarettes and exhaust. I walked past room 12 twice before I worked up the nerve to knock.

The door opened a crack. Soft voice. “Scott?”

“Yeah.”

“Come in, baby. Don’t turn around yet. I want to look perfect for you.”

I stepped inside. Candles burned on the nightstands. The bed was already turned down. I set the two hundred on the table and waited with my back to her, cock already half-hard in my jeans.

“Nice shoulders,” she murmured. Closer now. “Ass looks good too. Your mom raised a polite boy, didn’t she?”

I almost laughed. Then her voice changed. Normal volume. Familiar.

“You look more like a Nick than a Scott.”

I spun around and the floor dropped out from under me.

Wendy stood there in a short red silk robe, black stockings, fuck-me heels, blonde hair teased out, makeup heavy and slutty. Jimmy’s mother. My best friend’s mom. The woman whose panties I’d cum in when I was fourteen.

“Holy shit.”

She smiled, slow and wicked. “Surprise.”

My mouth opened and closed. Nothing came out.

“Sit down, Nick.” She pointed at the edge of the bed. “We need to talk before I decide whether to take your money or call your parents.”

I sat. My cock was still hard. That felt worse than anything.

Wendy paced in front of me, the robe barely covering the tops of her stockings. Every step made her tits shift under the silk.

“You’ve been looking at my ad for weeks. I saw the same number come through three different times. Curious little boy. Then tonight you finally pull the trigger. And of all the call girls in the state, you pick me.”

“I didn’t know—”

“Of course you didn’t. That’s the fun part.” She stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell her perfume and the faint scent of pussy already. “Jimmy thinks I work doubles at the lounge. The lounge closed two years ago. This—” she gestured at the room, the candles, her body “—pays for his tuition, his truck, the new iPad, the food in the fridge. Four or five clients a week. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. Tonight you’re client number three.”

I stared at her. The woman who’d made us pancakes in the morning, who’d driven us to soccer practice, who’d once caught me with her black lace panties and pretended not to notice. Now she was selling her cunt by the hour.

“You can’t tell him,” she said quietly. “You know that.”

“I know.”

“Good. Because if you do, I tell your parents their scholarship boy was hiring prostitutes. I show them the texts. I show them the cash receipt I’m about to write. Your sister finds out her little brother paid to fuck his best friend’s mother. We both lose. Or…” She untied the robe and let it fall open. “We both win.”

Black lace bra, the same one from the ad. Matching thong. Stockings with a wide lace band at the top. Heavy tits spilling over the cups. Smooth stomach. Soft thighs. The faint outline of her pussy lips under the thin fabric.

My cock jumped so hard it hurt.

Wendy smiled. “There it is. You’ve wanted this for years. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. The way your eyes drop to my tits when I lean over the counter. The way you used to steal my underwear.”

Heat flooded my face.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I kept the pair you came in. They’re in my special drawer. Sometimes I put them on when a client is particularly boring and I need something to get me wet.”

She stepped between my knees, took my hands, and placed them on her hips.

“Two hundred dollars buys you the night, Nick. Mouth, pussy, ass if you want it. You can do anything. Call me whatever filthy names you want. Pull my hair. Spank me. Cum in my mouth, on my face, in my cunt. I don’t care. I like it. I like young cock. I like the way you boys fuck like you’re trying to break something. And right now I want my son’s best friend to break me.”

I swallowed hard. “Wendy…”

“Say it.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Louder.”

“I want to fuck Jimmy’s mom. I want to bury my face in your pussy and then fuck you until you scream.”

She leaned down and kissed me. Soft at first, then deep, tongue sliding into my mouth like she owned it. Her tits pressed against my chest. I groaned into the kiss and squeezed her hips hard enough to leave marks. When she finally pulled back her lipstick was smeared across both our mouths.

“Good boy.”

She shrugged the robe the rest of the way off and reached behind her back. The bra came free. Her tits spilled out, heavy and full, nipples already tight and dark rose. Bigger than I’d imagined. Softer. I reached up without thinking and filled my hands with them. Warm. Soft. The weight of them made my cock throb.

Wendy moaned when I brushed my thumbs over her nipples. “That’s it. Play with them. They’re yours tonight.”

I leaned in and sucked one into my mouth. She tasted like skin and perfume and something faintly sweet. Her hand slid into my hair and held me there while I licked and sucked and bit gently. The other nipple got the same treatment. By the time she pushed me back her chest was rising and falling fast.

“Stand up.”

I stood. She dropped to her knees in one smooth motion, the way only a woman who’d done this a hundred times could. Her fingers worked my belt, zipper, jeans. She yanked everything down to my ankles and my cock sprang free, hard and leaking.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Look at that. Thick. Long. Perfect young cock.” She wrapped her fingers around the base and squeezed. Pre-cum beaded at the tip. She leaned in and licked it off, slow, eyes locked on mine. “Mmm. You taste good, Nick. I’ve wondered.”

Then she opened her mouth and took me in.

Hot. Wet. Soft. Her tongue swirled around the head while she sank deeper, inch by inch, until her nose pressed against my stomach and my entire cock was buried in her throat. She held there, swallowing around me, eyes watering, then pulled back with a wet gasp.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not Jesus. Wendy.” She stroked me with both hands, spit shining on my shaft. “Your best friend’s mother has your cock in her mouth. How does that feel?”

“Like I’m going to cum in about ten seconds.”

She laughed, low and dirty, and sucked me in again. This time she bobbed, slow and deep, one hand cupping my balls, the other braced on my thigh. Wet sounds filled the room. Slurp. Gag. Moan. I watched my cock disappear between her red lips over and over. Saliva ran down her chin and dripped onto her tits. She looked up at me the whole time, blue eyes half-lidded, completely unashamed.

I lasted maybe three minutes. The second she took me all the way down and hummed I lost it. Cum exploded down her throat in thick pulses. She swallowed every drop, milking me with her throat until I was shaking and empty. When she finally pulled off, a string of spit and cum connected her bottom lip to the head of my cock.

She licked it up and smiled. “That’s one. We’ve got all night.”

Wendy stood, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and pushed me onto the bed. She peeled the thong down her legs and kicked it aside. Her pussy was bare, smooth, already glistening. She climbed up, straddled my face, and lowered herself without asking.

“Eat it. You’ve been staring at it for years. Now taste it.”