Category: milf

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

The kitchen was entirely too hot. The air was thick with the rich aroma of roasting garlic and a wine reduction. A single bead of sweat traced a slow, agonizing path down the valley of my collarbone, trapped beneath the linen of my apron. I stood at the island rolling out pasta dough, my forearms aching from the effort. Then, a pair of hands slid around my waist.

I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. His chest pressed flush against my back, his body heat radiating through our thin clothing. He leaned over my shoulder; his breath a warm, spiced breeze against my neck that made my breath catch in my throat.

“You’re rushing the dough, dear,” he murmured, his voice was low against my ear.

Before I could reply, his flour-dusted hands covered mine on the rolling pin. He didn’t take over; instead, he guided my movements, forcing a slow and deliberate rhythm that felt entirely too intimate for a kitchen counter. With every forward lean, his hips pressed into mine, an explicit promise disguised as a culinary lesson.

“See?” he whispered, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just beneath my ear. “Patience makes everything sweeter.”

Continue reading “Cooking In The Kitchen” →

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

The storm had driven me into the sea caves, but it was the silence inside that truly trapped me. The water here didn’t crash; it lapped against the smooth rocks like a warm breath against skin. I waded deeper, the bioluminescent algae painting the water in an electric indigo that barely illuminated the area around me. Then, the water shifted; a slow, hydraulic swell rose against my thighs, wet and deliberate.

Out of the glowing depths, the first one emerged. It wasn’t rough, but impossibly sleek and cool. A dark, muscular ribbon of flesh breaking the surface without a sound. It brushed against my calf, an almost teasing, feather-light caress that sent an immediate shiver straight up my spine. I froze, my breath catching in my throat, terrified but transfixed.

Another rose, followed by three more; all of them slick and glistening with a pearlescent sheen. They circled me in the water, a slow-motion ballet of fluid muscle. One rose higher, draping itself over my knee. The underside was lined with soft, pale suckers that dimpled against my bare skin. The suckers didn’t hurt. Instead, they created a strange, rhythmic vacuum. A series of tiny, pulsing pressures that felt almost…

Continue reading “Cave Exploration” →

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

The rain lashed against the windows of the hotel room, fracturing the city lights into a smattering constellation of refracted lights. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of cedarwood and the tension that had been building between us for months.

I leaned lightly against the built-in desk, my pulse hammering in my throat. My son’s teacher didn’t move; he simply watched me, his gaze heavy and dark. His eyes tracing the way my breath hitched.

“You’re trembling,” he noted, his voice a low, gravelly hum that vibrated right through me.

“It’s cold,” I lied, shifting away from the desk.

He rose then, moving with a predatory grace that made the room feel suddenly too small. When he stopped, he was inches away. Close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his body. He reached out, his thumb grazing the hollow of my throat, before sliding upward to tilt my head back.

“I don’t think it’s the cold,” Making eye contact, he murmured before leaning down until his lips brushed against the shell of my ear.

I gasped as his other hand found the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. The contact was electrifying

Continue reading “At The Hotel With My Son’s Teacher” →

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

My feet beat out a steady rhythm on the treadmill as I began to wind down my cool down run. My gym trainer would be checking on me soon and I needed to be ready for the stretches he’d insist on. Slowing my pace further; I drink from my water bottle, spilling a little down my chin. I wipe my chin and come to a stop. Taking a few deep breaths, I shake one leg then the other before wiping down the controls.

I turn to find my trainer right behind me. “Good job. Now let’s get you stretched out.” He nodded over his shoulder to the yoga mat he’d already laid out. I rolled my head to relax my neck and assumed the first stretch. One knee almost touching the floor, my other leg in front of me at a ninety degree angle, lunging forward. My trainer counted down before I switched.

After switching sides, it was time to do the butterfly stretch. My trainer was never happy with my progress for this one. I sat and brought my feet together in front of me, bracing my elbows on my knees; I gently pulled on my feet. The

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

The management at my apartment complex is terrible at making timely repairs. I generally take care of small things by myself, but I had no idea how to fix the hole in my bedroom wall. While rearranging my furniture, I dropped one end of my nightstand and now there was a hole in the wall. All the way through to my neighbor’s room. I was screwed. There was no way for me to fix it.

As I was examining the hole, my neighbor walked into his room, looking like he was fresh from a work out or shower. I knew I should look away, but the way the drops of water dripped down his skin was mesmerizing. I knelt down, getting closer to the hole to have a better look.

He stripped out of his baggy shorts and underwear. I’d always thought he was attractive, and I was silently kicking myself for not making a move sooner. He was packing, and I felt my pussy throb with want.

He laid out on the bed and pulled out his phone, scrolling through videos until he found something he liked; idly fondling himself before getting comfortable and focused fully on the screen.

Continue reading “Neighbor’s Hole in the Wall” →

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

A few weeks ago I was cleaning out my Uncle’s storage shed and came across a box of unlabeled VHS cassettes. Who still has cassettes? Luckily I found an old VCR, cords and all, buried halfway down a pile of miscellaneous clothes, electronics and photos. After wrapping up my cleaning for the day I made sure to bring home the cassettes and VCR.

Continue reading “Uncle’s Unlabeled Porn” →

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ve learned that the world is essentially a runway if you have the right silhouette. Every step I take feels like a choreographed performance. It’s almost a game at this point – counting the lingering men with their eyes locking onto the sway of my MILF ass. My hips sway with a deliberate, rhythmic grace that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.

I don’t shy away from their hunger. Instead, I adjust my stance just a fraction, letting the ambient lighting catch the contours of my BBL. That’s right, I have one. The blatant staring is a testament to the fact that my investment is working exactly as intended.

Continue reading “the right silhouette” →

Julie 1-844-332-2639 Ext 453

I never knew hors d’oeuvres could be so fucking sexy. But this man turned catering into an erotic art. He was a master and the food was his masterpiece.

A friend of mine was having an open house on a multi million dollar listing. So of course, I was not going to miss it. The house was absolutely breathtaking. But the caterer literally took my breath away. He was standing behind the massive taj mahal quartz island. Focused intently on each tiny detail, he was working his magic. He was an Italian stallion with a passion for food and turning it into art. And I was focused on him. The way his muscles flexed with each squeeze of the piping bag into the miniature hors d’oeuvre serving trays. Then the way he meticulously laid each individual fresh herb precisely on top with his chef tweezers. That was all enough to get me all wet and turned on. But the way his juicy meatballs squirted such an explosive flavor bomb in my mouth almost made me cum in my panties.

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Gifts

Posted on by Cory

breasts

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I’ve had these, ahem, “gifts” since I was a teen. It’s like I had a magnetic field around me, drawing in every male eye within a 10-foot radius. It was both flattering and terrifying at the same time. I’d try to wear loose-fitting clothes to downplay them, but let’s be real, there’s only so much you can do to hide a pair of double-Ds from all of the neighborhood pervs.

The comments started early, too. Everything from “Wow, you must be cold!” to “Do you have trouble finding bras that fit?” But as I got older, the attention only intensified. I’d go to the grocery store and some guy would inevitably stare as if he’d never seen breasts before.

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abdl blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It all started with a hopeful “I want to help, Mommy!” This year, Timmy begged to bake Christmas cookies, promising to be “extra good” and “follow the recipe like a big boy.” I caved, of course, because what ABDL mother says no to his twinkling eyes right before Christmas?

Big mistake. Within ten minutes, flour was airborne like a blizzard, egg whites were splattered on the ceiling fan (yes, really), and the kitchen resembled a combat zone where sugar and chaos had declared a truce. I stood there, flour-dusted and blinking, as Timmy beamed. He was soooo proud of himself.

Continue reading ““I want to help, Mommy!”” →