The Milf Of Milf And Sons

This is not a true story but it is inspired by one. I wish to thank my talented editor Ken, who once again greatly improved the story with his delicate touch. This is my contribution to

750 Word Project 2024

Below the two stars are exactly 750 words.

The MILF of MILF and Sons

Sexual pleasure is the best revenge

**

It was 1983. I had just graduated from Duke Law and passed the bar. I got a job with Mitchell, Irving, Lasry, and Fieldston, one of the best law firms in Durham. The firm was known by its acronym MILF, or more precisely MILF and Sons. All the lawyers like myself were men. The acronym was unfortunate, but I loved it.

My boss, Jim Lasry--a son of the named partner--was a real SOB. I hated him, but appreciated his wife Anne. It was obvious Anne liked me, despite her husband's unfortunate attitude.

My future under his iron fist looked bleak. He was sabotaging my career. I pegged him as an insecure man with a much-too-hot wife. Fortunately, my negotiations with a firm up north were going well. I was planning a move. Maybe in a month.

I was in my small kitchen, washing the dishes from the dinner I had cooked and just eaten when my doorbell rang. I wash the dishes shirtless to avoid stains, as I'm messy by nature. I went to the door bare-chested, a dish towel over my shoulder.

I opened the door and gazed upon the face of Anne Lasry, my tormenter's wife. She entered smiling. When Anne smiles, her beauty skyrockets. I guess it's appropriate that the wife of a junior partner in MILF is herself a MILF. She's not a mother yet, but the ILF part is highly applicable.

I reminded myself that she's not only married but married to my boss. She was off limits, despite how seductive she looked. On the other hand, she's married to an SOB who enjoys making my life miserable. Maybe her being off-limits was not so obvious.

"I was just washing up after dinner," I said, trying to explain my appearance.

"You wash up shirtless?"

"I wash the dishes shirtless to avoid stains...."

"I use aprons," Anne replied.

"I should get one." Anne was wearing her ID from Duke University Hospital, where she was a gastroenterologist, specializing in liver diseases. Her ID hung from a cord falling right between her boobs.

"No problem. I'll help you clean up, and I'll use your technique," she said. To my surprise she removed her jacket and blouse, revealing a pretty, lace bra covering her ample breasts.

There wasn't a lot still to wash, but I went for the gold: "Maybe you should remove your bra, too. It looks expensive, and it would be a shame if..."

And just like that Anne was topless in my kitchen. The inevitable reaction below my waist began.

"You approve, I take it," she said. Even her voice was sexy.

I did approve, but I was worried too, so I asked, "What's Jim up to?"

"Jim is off in the bowels of Chapel Hill, lost no doubt in the bowels of his mistress. She's a student at Duke Law, according to my sources."

"Is that why you're here?"

"I'm here because I like you, Jason. I don't want to sit at home trying and failing to read a book while waiting for my philandering husband to return. Any more questions?" There was an edge to Anne's voice.

"Yes. Do your panties match your pretty lace bra?"

That got another smile from the topless MILF.

"Of course they do. I take pride in my lingerie. I know you trust me, but do you want to verify? Isn't that the advice of my husband's hero, Ronald Reagan?"

"I do trust you, but verification sounds appealing. Shall I help?" I asked, looking at her cotton slacks.

"You're gallant, but I can undress myself. After all, I'm old enough to be married. Perhaps you've noticed my gold band?"

As Anne said that she gracefully removed her pants. Sure enough, her lace panties matched her bra. I could only marvel at Anne's near-naked beauty.

"Among all the women who have graced my kitchen and shared their choices of lingerie with me you, my lovely Anne, are the prettiest, the sexiest, and the most delightful. I'll bet you taste the best, too."

"I thought you had already finished dinner."

"I have, but I have room for dessert."

"Indeed, I look forward to it. I don't see a dessert at hand."

I gave Anne my best lascivious smile. "It's in the bedroom, underneath your panties."

"Sounds yummy. May I have dessert, too?"

"Of course. I have ice cream, chocolates, and butter cookies."

"Here's what I want," Anne said as she pulled my pants down and off.