Free My Girlfriend's MILF by 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.