Know-how

It’s a given that experienced women have the know-how in sex. Tits full of maturity, pussy savoir-faire and arsehole finesse to make the dirty very enjoyable for a pair or occasionally a threesome. So, I was non-plussed when I realised I hadn’t had a decent shag or butt fill in nearly three weeks.  Well, it was twenty days, and it caught me by surprise. How had I let it happen?

It was easy enough to find excuses in my mind. I had got slack at the gym, which was always a reliable MILF hot spot for a needy divorcee like me. I could have blamed work and a few extra night shifts at the nursing home where I was employed and then sleeping; yes, actually sleeping in my bed. Since Max had left Glendown Aged Care, the staff were now all women, and none, so far as I could tell, had bi inclinations. Work roots had disappeared. My house wasn’t falling apart, which was a pity because the young plumber who repaired my hot water cylinder last month was a frickin well-hung stud and a dirty rampant arsehole bandit to boot. Well, I could always order pizza if I got desperate and give one of those delivery guys a real hot surprise.

After a long refreshing sleep, I was finally up at about three in the afternoon, though it didn’t feel like the right time for breakfast. It didn’t seem like the right time for a shower and some coochie relief with the warm water jet hitting my clit. I was at a loose end sexually. This was terrible, very bad, and I wondered had my libido declined. Perhaps; I hit menopause?

I had a coffee and wandered around the house in only my briefs. I had taken to doing this since my daughter Talia moved out six months ago. It made me feel sexy, letting my gorgeous big boobies sway and wobble, and it certainly gave the plumber and pizza guy no mixed messages.

I needed something to get my mind off sex. I accepted I was in a drought, and if I relaxed, the action would happen soon enough.  My distraction was immediate: boxes of Talia’s stuff she still had not moved to her flat. Just what was keeping that lass so busy these days? Well, the answer was obvious; a new boyfriend, no doubt. She hadn’t even called me for the last week and a half, not even a frickin text.

I tried to call Talia but got no response. After putting on a short skirt and a tight top, I had a key to her place and decided to take the boxes to her unit this afternoon.

I parked outside her place. Her car wasn’t there. I grabbed the first box from the back seat and felt the afternoon’s heat but got busy opening her front door, balancing a box rather precariously.

I thought I had the place to myself. I was tempted to dump Talia’s stuff immediately inside the open-plan lounge kitchen area. Maybe right by the front door, giving her a hint as to how I felt about having to move her gear in the first place. Well, I did that box after box, getting very hot and sweaty until I ran out of space.

Oh, don’t be a PMT bitch, I told myself, which was way more favourable to my self-esteem than my earlier thinking about menopause. At least put her shoe boxes in her closet: I instructed myself.

On entering her bedroom, I took in the hunky male facing away from me, focussing on a computer screen and happily jerking off to some explicit moany porn which came into close up as a lovely gripping arsehole being perfectly filled with a whopper of a cock.

Well, I assumed the guy wanking off in only a pair of boxers was Talia’s new boyfriend caught by me in a Don Jon moment. Porn put him, so he thought, in total charge of his release; no, pumping and thrusting away like a guy waiting endlessly for a young woman’s orgasm to catch up.

Well, I could have embarrassed him. I suppose I could have backed out of the room too. Neither thought crossed my mind. I was MILF cock focused. Oh, not on the enormous dong-pounding arse on a small screen; more the pecker I hadn’t seen yet, giving a virile stud plenty of self-groaning pleasure.

Taking sexual advantage of a young male is too easy for an experienced MILF.

“Let me suck it, honey,” I said after putting down the shoe boxes and moving right next to him. His cock was raging, rigid and enjoying self-attention, but I knew I could do much better for its total mind-blowing and physical release satisfaction.

“Oh hell,” he said, tucking his gorgeous cock uncomfortably in his boxers, but it was too horny and flexed like a prominent tent pole in a stiff breeze.

“Don’t hide it...it deserves to be seen...it deserves attention...yours and mine,” my eyes gave the complete flirt.

“Oh, Christ; don’t tell Talia; Mandy?” was all he got out. His cock retreated in size. Shrinking with mortification. He surreptitiously turned off the laptop.

“Well,” I replied: “the advantage in names but not private underwear secrets are yours...so Talia has mentioned me...I hope nicely ...but you are?” I whipped my head, letting my long dark hair float fully sexily across his close cheek.

“Um”, yeah, he was having trouble focussing on anything, but my huge close cleavage and his cock had responded to my sweeping hair. He was back at half-mast, at least.

“It’s Matty”, he finally got out “, and Talia has only said nice things about you.”

“How nice,” I said, brushing my titties across his face and pausing for a moment with his nose nestled in my cleavage.

“Oh, you’re hot for a mum...and she’s right about that.”

“Now, Mathew”, I added, teasing him, “Why does a spunky guy like you need porn with a slutty daughter like my Talia...seriously...I bet she can’t get enough.”

“Well,” and he went a bit sheepish, and his cock wasn’t as pushy as it had been a moment ago: “Tally is great ...don’t get me wrong...but I crave a good butt fuck, and she’s not into it...so I get my fantasy...if not the reality; online.”

“Geez ...you got me there, “I said, surprised, “I’d have thought my Tallie was a backdoor skank...an arsehole craver...but I can see by your face that you are serious.”

“Yeah...Talia is great...but I’m a guy...I’ve had arse crack before, and I’m frickin addicted...I don’t know what to do apart from porn?”

“Matty, Matty, Matty...we can’t have an unhappy cock in my daughter’s pussy,” and I was rubbing his groin, and my tongue was in his mouth, and his hands were on my arse, and it was a smear of foreplay as two bodies found their natural state. Well, for my daughter’s boyfriend, it was dropping his jocks. But a skirt, a tight top, a bra and skimpy panties are no obstacle for busy flesh-seeking MILF fingers.

Pressing touch to private fondling is dynamite for two, detonating lust regardless of the consequences. Fuck knows when Talia would be back. We were both compromised in raunchy cooperation.  We were on the carpet. I was sucking cock; cock I had missed so much in the past three weeks, and Matty’s tongue was doing an excellent job for a young man around and in my pussy, -as we sixty-nined- and his fingers were quickly getting acquainted with my arse crack.

Now I thought: Shit, I’m a MILF tart, but I’m not a whorish cheater on my daughter... am I?

I approached an orgasm courtesy of his excellent finger work in my butthole. God, the lad, could work a bum crack. He crooked his finger to dig and expand gently, then spitting in my growing gape and the real surprise blowing warm air around and in my puckered starfish.

Of course, I wasn’t going to cheat on my daughter’s pussy, but God, I was having this cock.

I was sucking off hard and deep, working his pecker to a rigid lance. I knew too not to ignore his needy balls. And when I reciprocated with several blasts of warmish air up his cute arsehole, I thought he would cum way too early for my liking.

I had to get him focussed on my need which happily was also his need: my arsehole would do fine for a stress relieving outlet with his cock inlet.

I was on the edge of my daughter’s springy double bed; she had this cute doona with love hearts all over it. All Matty noticed was my shaved love heart between my legs. Pink and open and a cute puckered balloon knot below it. Yeah, I knew how to do the anal wink, and he got it. I saw his cock stiffen immediately. He was now super hard.

I didn’t have to instruct the lad where to put his cock. He knew which hole was his. No need for a prolonged rsvp either. His pecker took its cue from my fingers, spreading my gaped backdoor just for him.

“Oh, give me a big wad of your spittle first,” I said; I appreciated the added lube, and so would his fat cock.

His pecker was where it needed to be in the immediate instance of mine and his existence, prodding straight into my exposed special opening in the gawped missionary position, easily the best pose for deep satisfying anal.

He was groaning. His face was a contorted, pleasant sight to behold. I was moaning because he was a filler—a real arsehole driller.

Matty knew he had it good. A MILF with the know-how and tight ring finesse. I had the delectable clench. His cock in my natural skin vice. I had the grip. I had the grasp. The clutch and clamp for my excitement, my aroused pleasure, and his cock’s blissful delight.  I had the squeezy contractions of experience. I was an arsehole queen giving a young guy easily his best butt fuck, and he’d be back more. The regular more I would need.

His cock was trapped happier than a finger in a sticky bun. Cock snared by MILF arse must be experienced to be believed.

Matty was buckling at the knees beside the edge of the bed. His cock choking for release in me.

Then I thought: No, let him cream my cute crack next time.

“Get your cock between my titties”, I demanded

Young men love MILF authority, but I had to wriggle; ease him out of my butt. He was addicted, and his pecker craved to take permanent residence in my arse.

I pushed my swishing, swaying fabulous fun bags around his cock and typical male; he forgot my arse in sensational soft mammary pressure on his stiff pecker. I knew how to titty fuck; lucky me, I had the boobies to deliver big time.

I was on my knees on the edge of the bed, his cock pointing straight up to my face between my pressing exacting huge marshmallow titties.

Matty did a series of geyser spurts up over my face. My tongue caught dribbled warmth as my ears caught pitched guttural groans of boyish delight as his cum fountained up, then down and splashed over my breasts; well, what my tongue didn’t catch.

What more is there to tell? Matty helped me put the boxes in Talia’s closet. We shared a coffee across the table, seemingly innocent as Talia came home from shopping.

I helped her put the groceries away. Matty was getting ready for work.

“Well, mum, what do you think;” said, my daughter.

“Nice young man; a real keeper, honey.”

“Aw, mum, you’re sweet; thanks for bringing my stuff around, but there is more in the garage still. I’ll get it soon. I promise.”

“Oh, no problem; I’ll bring it around; no problem at all.”

“Wow, thanks; you really are a super mum.”

Yeah, I’d take that; my arse certainly still felt super happy.