My Girlfriend's MILF

by Summers, A. B.

  MY GIRLFRIEND’S MILF

  A.B. SUMMERS

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  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  Copyright © 2014 by A.B. Summers

  All Rights Reserved by Author

  www.absummers.com

  If you'd like to copy, reproduce, sell, or distribute any part of this text, please obtain the explicit, written permission of the author first. Note that you should feel free to tell your spouse, lovers, friends, and coworkers how wet this book made you. Have a safe and sweaty evening.

  Cover Design By Lucy West

  Cover Image Copyright © By DepositPhotos

  MY GIRLFRIEND’S MILF

  A.B. SUMMERS

  1

  I first saw her the summer after my sophomore year. Mindy Carson and I had been dating for three months by then, and although Mindy was in great shape and a true nineteen-year-old stunner, once I saw her mother I couldn’t get the older Ms. Carson out of my mind.

  She was sitting on the porch when I stopped by to pick up Mindy. I parked my truck out front in the street, and when I saw Ms. Carson I had to gather myself for a moment before I could trust myself to get out of the car without displaying my hard-on for everyone to see.

  She wore yoga-pants and a loose-fitting blue top that hung down off one shoulder, showing off the strap of a black sports-bra. She sat on a white-painted wicker chair, her legs up on a footstool. A tall glass of iced-tea sat on the white wooden table by her, the beads of moisture rolling down the glass like pearls in the summer heat. She wore large sunglasses, but she looked stunning in them, her dark brown hair going well with her full lips that seemed naturally red like strawberries from the countryside.

  She smiled at me as I walked towards the porch-steps and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. I could feel movement in my pants, heat rushing to my head, and I wondered what the hell was happening.

  But I knew what was happening. Ever since I first looked down the neckline of my home-room teacher Ms. Braddock’s pink blouse back in middle-school, I’ve been obsessed with MILFs. Ms. Braddock didn’t have particularly large boobs, and her bra was so loose that when she bent down I could see her large, pointy nipples up close and personal. The nipples were dark pink and looked tough and sturdy, and I remember wanting to take them in my mouth and suckle on them like a hungry child. It was all I could do to concentrate on the rest of the class, and the moment I had a free period I rushed to the bathroom and jerked myself off in the stall, my cum flying out of me and hitting the back wall as I gasped, my eyes closed, my mind filled with the images of those hard, ready nipples.

  Since then I discovered that women who’ve given birth and breast-fed develop a certain fibrous toughness to their nipples, a toughness that feels intoxicating when you pinch them, tastes sublime when you suck on them, cause them to sit straight up as if at attention when you cum all over them.

  So now I stare at Ms. Carson’s chest for one long moment, praying to see the outline of a nipple, those same nipples that my girlfriend Mindy and her older sister must have suckled on so many years ago.

  Ms. Carson was divorced, I knew. Mindy said she had had a few boyfriends here and there over the past few years, but no one serious. She was happy on her own, Mindy had told me once. She likes being single.

  I can see why, I think as I walk up the porch stairs to say hello. Ms. Carson must be in her early forties, and although I can see lines on her forehead and face, small wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, there is no doubt this woman is as beautiful as ever.

  My breathing quickens as she leans forward to get up off the chair. I try desperately to catch a glimpse of some cleavage, but she isn’t showing any. Now she is standing up, and she smiles and takes off her sunglasses, and I swear I hear birds singing, bees buzzing, and the angels of sex and fucking blowing their trumpets in my eardrums.

  “Hey, you must be Richie,” she says as she extends her right hand. “I’m Beth Carson.”

  “Hi,” I say, shaking her hand, my gaze taking in the smooth skin of her arm, which is gently tanned. Her fingers are long, with short, well-trimmed nails. There is some loose skin on the underside of her upper arm, but in general she is very toned for her age.

  “Hi,” I say again, still shaking her hand, only now realizing I have a huge, goofy smile on my face, the kind of absent-minded smile that is a clear sign that most of my body’s blood is gathering in my dick and balls, making them swell up and beg to be taken care of. “I’m Richie.”

  “Yes, I know,” Ms. Carson says, laughing a little now. “Mindy’s sent me a few pictures of the two of you. You make a real cute couple.” She pauses, looking down for a moment. “Can I have my hand back now?”

  I laugh nervously and let go of her hand. “Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry, Ms. Carson.”

  She moves her head back for a moment and gives me a fake-indignant look. “Ms. Carson? What is this, the 1950s? Call me Beth. We’re all adults here, aren’t we?”

  “Right,” I say. “We’re all grown-ups.”

  She smiles at me for a moment and then walks to the front door. I shamelessly stare at her ass in those black yoga-pants. It is larger than Mindy’s, and perhaps not as tight, but ohmygod is it turning me on like fuck right now. I see no signs of a panty-line, so either she is wearing a thong the size of dental floss or she isn’t wearing any underwear.

  This last thought fills me with the kind of desire that makes it hard to breathe, and I inhale sharply as Beth Carson gently leans forward through the open screen door and calls out to Mindy, telling her to come on out.

  I want to come on out too, I think now as I can almost smell Beth Carson’s pussy through the thin Spandex of those yoga-pants. I imagine myself dropping to my knees, pushing her up against the side of the house, her ass in my face. I’d rip those yoga-pants right down the seams, bury my face in her ass and pussy, licking and sucking until she’s wet and helpless. Then I’d stand up and reach around for those hard, MILF nipples, savoring their tightness, reveling in the way they harden beneath my fingers as I pinch and pull at them. Then—

  “Oh, hey, Richie,” comes Mindy’s shrill, nineteen-year-old voice, and I am broken out of my daydream.

  I am hot and annoyed, and I feel my boxers wet with precum. My hard-on disappears rapidly as Mindy comes to me and grabs my arm and leans in for a quick kiss.

  I think I see Beth Carson flinch a bit as Mindy kisses me, but I tell myself it’s just my imagination and wishful thinking. No way is this happening. No way am I going to get to fuck my girlfriend’s mom, my girlfriend’s MILF.

  2

  And I didn’t get to fuck her—not that summer at least. No, that summer was hot and heavy with Mindy—after all, we had only been together a few months, and when you’re nineteen all you want to do is fuck and cum. So Mindy and I did just that all summer. Blowjobs in my truck. Fucking outdoors in the woods. Handjobs in the last row of the movie theater. I even took her in the ass for the first time, down in my basement, on the fourth of July while everyone was outside watching the fireworks.

  But I can’t deny that I much preferred not to have to look at Mindy in the face when we fucked the rest of that summer. I asked for more and more blowjobs and handjobs, and when we fucked it was almost always from behind. I had no issues eating her pussy, and I loved her round, tight little ass, but the truth is that when I was fucking Mindy, I was thinking about Beth Carson.

  This was especially true when I would play with Mindy’s tits. Now, Mindy had reasonably large boobs, and they were smooth and perky. But her nipples were light pink, small, and soft
, and although they would prick up a bit when I pinched them or ran my tongue over them, I could not help but feel a desperate longing for the hard, tough nipples of a MILF, of my girlfriend’s MILF.

  So I spent that summer fucking Mindy senseless, but often with my eyes closed, in my mind imagining that Beth Carson was the one taking my cock in her mouth or jerking me off in the darkness or screaming as I rammed her hard from behind.

  My fantasies got more elaborate and frequent, and as August rolled around I began to go over to Mindy’s place more and more often, sometimes without even telling Mindy, hoping I’d run into Beth Carson all alone, sitting on that porch in those tight yoga-pants. Perhaps she’d be asleep in the sun when I arrived, and I’d stand over her, watch her for a while. Maybe I’d slowly pull the neckline of her top out so I could look down at her breasts, those MILF breasts that were all I could think of. Perhaps she’d wake up but pretend to be asleep still, moaning slightly as if in a dream, all but inviting me to put my hands on her, to reach down through her top, through her bra, to where those nipples were waiting to be pinched so hard that they turn dark red with desire.

  But it was all just fantasy. Although I got to know Beth Carson a little better, we barely had a conversation that was more than a few lines. Mindy never invited me over for dinner or anything, and so I never got to spend more than a few minutes with the object of my desire.

  By the time we were back at college, I found my fantasies getting more and more desperate. It was no longer just any MILF—it had to be Beth Carson, my girlfriend’s MILF. I’d wake up in my dorm room bed, Mindy asleep beside me under the covers, and I’d carefully sneak out of bed and head to the bathroom where I could take care of my morning erection with thoughts of Beth. This was getting to be an obsession, I knew. It was beyond just juvenile fantasy. I needed to have this woman. I needed her nipples in my mouth, my hard young cock in her soft wet pussy.

  And so I decided to take matters into my own hands, so to speak. This was going to happen, one way or another. We’re all adults, aren’t we? Yes, this was going to happen. I was going to fuck my girlfriend’s MILF, no matter what, no matter how.

  And I couldn’t wait until Christmas or Spring Break, and certainly not until next summer. It needed to happen NOW!

  3

  I thought about it for the rest of that week as I jerked myself off three or four times a day, often declining sex with Mindy because I was so fucked out, so obsessed with my MILF fantasy. Finally, on Thursday, I realized I would have my chance.

  Mindy was in a sorority, and she and her sisters were going on a three-day retreat this coming weekend. I guess she had mentioned it earlier, but I had forgotten about it, so when she told me I was ecstatic. It seemed like a sign from those angels of depravity and sex, a coincidence that I had to take advantage of.

  So I kissed Mindy and told her I would miss her, and when Friday rolled around and she got into that dark blue university-issued van and headed off to the mountains or the woods or wherever the fuck their little retreat was, I ran back to my room, hurtling up the stairs two-at-a-time, and stuffed some clothes and my laptop into a backpack.

  Within a few minutes I was in my truck, music blaring, my cock twitching with anticipation as I wondered if I would last the entire three-hour drive without pulling out my dick and jerking off all over myself.

  But I held on, because I wanted to save myself for Beth Carson. Although I still hadn’t figured out how the fuck I was going to pull it off, I knew that failure wasn’t an option. This was going to happen, no matter what.

  4

  The porch is empty when I pull up to Beth Carson’s house. Not surprising, because it is late fall and the winds have picked up. It is about sixty degrees outside, but the sun is almost down, and it might get chilly. Perfect weather to sit close together on the couch, maybe light a fire and get the room all hot, watch the light from the flickering flames highlight Beth Carson’s naked body as I suck on her breasts and finger her till she’s wet and completely in my control.

  I turn off the engine and sit in my truck for a few minutes. What the fuck am I doing here? Did I seriously just drive three hours thinking I am going to be able to fuck this heavenly MILF, my girlfriend’s forty-year-old mom? What do I say to her? Where do I begin?

  Do I just knock on the front door, my hard cock in my hand, like in those ridiculous porno movies? Will she be half-naked too, already wet because she’s been touching herself, all alone in the living room? Will she go down to her knees immediately, grab my cock and start jerking me off as I look at her incredible tits from above? Will she suck me off right there in the doorway, with people honking their horns as they drive by? Will she let me cum on her boobs, smiling up at me as I convulse in ecstasy?

  What the fuck am I doing here? How is this going to work?

  I don’t care, I decide. I’m here, and I’m going in. I don’t give a fuck anymore. One way or another, I’m going in.

  5

  I stand outside the front door, staring at the doorbell like I am in a dream. I am nervous, but most certainly excited. She’ll be into it, I tell myself. After all, I’m not a bad looking guy—I have no shortage of chicks shamelessly hitting on me at some of those parties at college. Everyone knows that I’m with Mindy, but that doesn’t stop some chicks from offering me blowjobs or handjobs, asking to touch my abs, feel my biceps. Usually that’s all fun, but these past few months I’ve had a one-track mind. My entire routine since going back to college this year has been filled with jerking off and working out at the gym.

  So she’ll be into it, I think again as I look down at myself. I am wearing a tight black Gap t-shirt, the kind with sleeves that end above the bicep. My arms are tight and rippling with veins. My fingernails are short and clean, perfect for sticking into someone’s mouth, pussy, or asshole. My hair is messy, but I am clean shaven and my breath is fresh. I tighten my stomach, and I can feel my ab-muscles harden as they contract. I am in great shape, I tell myself. She’ll be into it.

  And so maybe all I need to do is be honest, I say to myself. I need to just fucking TELL her what I’m here for. Give her no option. Assume that she wants the same thing. I mean, I’ve seen her look at me—the same way so many women look at me. Every night there are probably ten women on this earth who are rubbing their clits and filling their pussies with vibrators as they think of me. Beth Carson is human, and no doubt she’s thought about it. Fuck, yes, she’ll be into it, I tell myself one more time.

  And then I ring the doorbell.

  6

  Beth Carson answers the door in a robe. The robe is open at the front, and I am surprised to see that she is wearing pajamas. The pajamas are black silk, but still, it seems a bit early to be getting ready for the night. It is only seven, and the sun is only just going down.

  “Richie?” she says, blinking in surprise. “What’s going on?” Then her expression changes. “Oh, God, did something happen? Is Mindy all right?”

  “Oh, shit, yeah, Ms. Carson,” I say hurriedly. “I mean no. I mean Mindy’s fine. She’s good. Nothing’s wrong.”

  Beth Carson exhales loudly, and I smell the pungent aroma of alcohol on her breath. For a moment I feel my heartrate speed up as I wonder if perhaps this is going to go smoothly. Perhaps she’s already feeling ready to open up, to let me in. This is going to be more straightforward than I could have imagined.

  Confidence surges through me as I look at her in the eye. She returns my gaze, and I try to look for something in her expression that is an invitation, an acknowledgement that we are both adults and it’s clear what’s about to happen here.

  But she averts her eyes and steps back into the house, holding the door open. “Come on in,” she says.

  I enter, brushing past her as I walk into the living room. I turn and look at her, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting in the room. She smiles and gathers her robe around her, tying
the waistband firmly, and now I can see her womanly figure outlined clearly. She must not be wearing a bra, I think as I watch her tits move beneath the thin cloth of her silk robe. Her boobs look heavier than normal, and I want to reach out and pinch them, find those nipples through the cloth, squeeze them until they are hard and pointy, just the way I like them.

  “I was just watching some TV,” she says now, smiling as if embarrassed for a moment. But she quickly regains her composure. “I’m rarely home on Friday nights, but I’m feeling a bit under the weather, so I thought I’d just stay in and watch a movie with a warm glass of brandy.”

  “Sounds great,” I say, walking over to the seating area where there is a large blue couch, a wooden coffee table that’s painted black, and two green leather recliners at each side of the couch. The TV is on with the volume muted. It is some movie with Gwyneth Paltrow, I think.

  I stand in the middle of the carpet, staring at the TV for a moment, then looking around the room. I am not sure what my next move is. I can’t read her body language clearly, and it never occurred to me that she’d be alarmed when I showed up, worried that something terrible had happened. Maybe that threw off the mood a bit.

  Still, I am here now, and there is no turning back. This is happening, one way or the other. The prize goes to the one that’s bold, I tell myself as I turn around and smile at her.

  Beth Carson is standing at the entryway, a solitary lightbulb behind her throwing shadows that highlight her sharp features, dark hair, and wonderfully curved figure. I want her to drop that robe, to start unbuttoning her silk pajama top, to undo the string on her thin, delicate pants. I want to see those heavy, full breasts under that yellow light, I want to smell her wet, juicy cunt in the air.

  “Can I get you something, Richie?” she says. The words come out slowly, like perhaps she understands why I am here but is nonetheless still trying to process it.