Milf Addiction

Steve

When I was 18, I fucked my girlfriend's mom, and later, a few of her mom's friends. At the time, I thought she was terribly old, but she was probably just shy of 40. Nowadays that would be young to me, but I never lost my taste for older women. These days, I sleep with a 60-year old regularly. That's another story, but I've been married to her for almost 40 years.

Anyway, it was the summer between high school and college, and my girlfriend Susan had gone off to Europe on one of those "study abroad" programs. No way my parents could afford something like that, and I was working construction all summer to help pay for college. When her mom called to ask me if I wanted to help with some heavy work in her garden on Saturdays I jumped at the chance to make a little extra money. I thought her mom was attractive, even if she was ancient by my immature standards, but I never dreamed I'd get a chance to jump her while I was at it.

Ellen was a little plump, but she had a nice face and quite a bit of that fat was deposited on her chest, which is always interesting to an 18-year old. I'd happily take a little belly to get bigger boobs, actually I guess I would even today.

She and her husband liked me, and I got along fine with them. I think they hoped I'd marry their daughter. As it turned out later, not marrying her was one of the best decisions I ever made, and they thought so too. But that too is another story.

John was a Budweiser man, and pretty much the first thing he said every time I came over was "Help yourself to a beer if you want one." He had a fridge in the garage that was always full of longnecks, and I was always happy to grab one, the legal drinking age still unimaginably far in my future.

Saturdays, John played golf at the country club, so he was gone all day, and generally came home a bit smashed, just in time to take Ellen out to dinner at some fancy place. A lot of times, they invited Susan and me to come along. My parents couldn't afford the places they went, and we sure didn't belong to the country club either, so that was always a treat. Especially since, in those days, they'd serve us all wine at the club. Those nights, the Carlsons wouldn't let me drive home, so I'd sleep in the downstairs guest room. A lot of Saturdays we slept in until after her parents left for the day, and then Susan would come downstairs and we'd have sex.

But, I wasn't thinking about any of that when I woke up Saturday morning with a raging woodie. My girlfriend had been gone a month, and for the last year I'd been getting laid pretty much every Friday and Saturday, so I was off schedule and starting to suffer from it. Nothing to do for it, I shared a room with my brother, and slept too late to get a manual release in the shower. It was going to a hot one, so I pulled on a T-shirt, cut-offs and my oldest sneakers and headed out the door. I jumped into my beat-up pickup truck and started driving across town.

I wasn't sure what Ellen had planned, but they had a big house near the country club, with a beautiful back yard, and she was always moving stuff around out there. I figured it would be dirty work, at the time I had no idea how dirty.

Ellen

I woke up Saturday morning horny as hell. John and I had almost stopped having sex ever since I had a lumpectomy to remove a cyst in my left breast two years earlier. It was benign, thank God, but now my left breast was noticeably smaller than the right one, and kind of an odd shape. At first John said he was afraid of hurting me, but he was always a breast man and I think I was "ruined" in his eyes. These days, we had sex rarely, and only when he was almost drunk out of his mind after dinner at the club, assuming he wasn't so drunk he couldn't get it up. It was a fine line.

He slept in the nude, and I gently pulled the covers off so I could look at him sleeping. At just over 40, his smoking and drinking was starting to catch up with him, but he still looked pretty fine to me. His penis was hard. I wished it was like that when we went to bed last night, but he was too far over the wrong side of that line. I was dying to impale myself on it now, but I knew he hated waking up with a hangover, and this morning, he surely would.

So, I slipped out of bed, padded softly into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I dropped my nightgown on the floor, and stepped in. Almost involuntarily, my hand slid down my belly to my pussy, and I gently rubbed it through my pubic hairs until my outer lips started to swell. I rubbed a finger along my slit, and slipped between them, where I felt my inner slickness gathering. After a while, I gently touched my clit. It was almost too sensitive to touch, so my finger found its way back down to my opening and pushed slowly in and out. I was lost in my own world, but I knew it would take a while to get to the finish line. Maybe after John left for the club.

I reluctantly turned off the water, got out and dried off. It was already a warm day, so I pulled a thin silk dressing gown over my nude body, tied the sash at my waist, and went down to the kitchen to make coffee. John was going to be demanding a cup soon enough.

Sure enough, about the time the pot had finished dripping, John came down the stairs, walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup without a word. He looked a little rough, but he was wearing his usual Saturday outfit, chinos and a golf shirt. Collar up. Penny loafers with no socks. You can take the boy out of the frat house, but you can never take the frat out of the boy. After it all, he still looked pretty good to me. I felt my nipples hardening against the silk of my dressing gown. I wanted to drop it and his pants and ravish him on the spot, but I knew while he might miss sex, but he would never, ever miss a teetime.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Steve

I was just about to ring it a second time when John opened the door. His eyes looked a little bloodshot, and he was holding a steaming cup of coffee. "Steve, what brings you over here this morning?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but Ellen asked for some help in the garden".

"Well, I sure as Hell don't know," he said a little gruffly. "But she's always screwing around back there, and you know how it is, when momma's not happy..." He let the old aphorism hang unfinished and fished around in his pocket with his free hand. He pulled out a fat wad of bills and thumbed off the top one, a hundred.

"Don't tell her I gave you that. Look, with Randy off to college, and Susan on that junket to Europe, Ellen hardly knows what to do with herself these days. So maybe she needs to 'mother' her garden a little bit. Fine by me, but she has no fucking idea what things cost. She'll probably underpay you horribly. Just smile, and make sure that she gets what she wants. I'll make up the difference, as long as she's happy."

"Thanks Mr. Carlson, I'll see to it. Happy."

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bob? Come inside, mi casa es su casa." As he turned to go in, he called out, "Ellen, Steve's here." He turned back to me, and in a stage whisper said, "Our secret, right? Happy. Gotta, run, Tee Time. Help yourself to a beer or three if you want. Gonna be a hot one", and he turned down the hall that led to the garage. I continued straight towards the kitchen.

Ellen

I froze when I heard Bob call out that Steve was here. How had I forgotten that this was the Saturday I'd asked him to help me in the garden? Shit, I didn't even have a plan for what I wanted him to do, calling him was kind of a spur of the moment thing, and now I'd spaced it out!

Worse, I was standing in my kitchen, naked under a thin silk robe, and I could hear Steve coming down the hallway. He was already past the stairs that led upstairs to the master bedroom, so I was trapped. Nothing to do but brazen it out.

As he walked in our kitchen, I squeaked "Hi Steve, need a cup of coffee?" and turned a little too quickly to the pot, putting my back to him. "Sure," he said. It felt like his eyes were burning a hole in me. I looked down at myself, thank God the robe was closed, but my nipples were standing out like rocks under the thin fabric. When I reached up for a cup, I felt the hem of the robe riding up the backs of my thighs, I wondered how high. My hands were shaking, so I carefully filled the cup and turned to hand it to him over the kitchen counter.

But as I turned, the bottom corner of the front of my robe caught on a drawer pull, and I felt the robe pull open for a second before it came loose and dropped free. "OMG!" I thought. "Did I just flash my daughter's boyfriend?" I felt a flush spreading over the tops of my breasts.

Mortified, I said, "Let me run upstairs and get dressed. Enjoy your coffee, and there's warm buns in the oven. Help yourself to a couple". I brushed past him and started down the hall towards the stairs.

Steve,

As I walked in the kitchen, I was surprised to see Ellen dressed in a thin, short silk dressing down. She usually dressed very properly around me, so this was a first. I also wondered what, if anything, she was wearing under it, because her nipples were practically bursting through the fabric. In the instant before she turned towards the coffee pot, I also noticed that one of her breasts was quite a bit smaller than the other one, and the nipple on that side sat noticeably lower on her chest. In the two years I'd been dating Susan, I'd never noticed, but as she turned, the morning light coming through the kitchen window made her gown seem almost transparent and I got a perfect silhouette of her boobs in profile. One was definitely big and full, but the other one looked a little deflated. Maybe it only lasted a tenth of a second, but the image was burned into my memory forever. I felt my dick twitch.

Suddenly, it was like everything was happening in slow motion. I noticed the two distinct globes of her butt under the robe, and as she reached up for the coffee cup, the hem rode up almost to the bottom of her cheeks. I remember thinking, "Just a little higher, Oh God please, just a little..." and then the moment was over. But then, as she turned back towards me, then hem of her gown caught on something, and opened briefly. I saw a dark place between her legs. Was it a shadow, or did Susan's mom just flash her pussy at me?

Then, she offered me couple of "buns" and brushed past me on the way out of the room. Was that her arm, or her boob that brushed my arm? I didn't know, but I had to reach down inside my cutoffs and make an adjustment as soon as she was safely out of sight.

Ellen

As I closed the door to our bedroom, I was practically hyperventilating. I couldn't tell if I was embarrassed or turned on, but there was a whole lot of whatever it was going on. I touched myself and got the answer. Turned on. I was so wet I was practically dripping down the insides of my thighs. "Get a grip Ellen", I told myself, "You're married, he's half your age, and he is your daughter's boyfriend."

I dropped the robe and started walking around in our bedroom naked, alternately trying to decide what to wear, pinching my swollen nipples, and running my fingers through my pubic hair. I went to the window that looked out over our garden, and as I wondered what I would have Steve do out there, my hand zeroed in on my clitoris. As I stood there frigging myself, Steve suddenly appeared in the garden. His back was to me, and I thought, "If he turns, he will see me naked" as a crushing orgasm wracked my body. I quickly backed away, and fell on the bed gasping for breath.

Steve,

I wasn't sure what was going on, but Ellen was acting different than I'd ever seen her. I was too sexually inexperienced at the time to recognize "turned on" when I saw it, and frankly I hadn't seen much of it coming from Susan. As I learned later, after I had sex with a few more girls, including the one that's now my wife, Ellen's daughter was a bit of cold fish. So I was flying blind except for one thing. I was turned on as Hell, with an erection that was downright painful.

I got a couple of buns out of the oven and sat down at the counter. I held them both in one hand, side-by-side like buttocks. When I held them at arm's length, they looked a lot like what I'd seen through the silk of Ellen's robe just a few minutes before. I brought them close to my face, inhaled the yeasty aroma, and stuck my tongue between them, imagining it was Ellen's butt crack. I rubbed my erection through my shorts with my free hand. "Oh, fuck!" I thought.

Suddenly I snapped to. What if she came back and caught me masturbating? I wolfed down the buns, picked up the coffee cup, and walked over to the sliding doors that led out to the back yard. I stepped outside and looked around, wondering what she had in mind. Truth was, her garden was perfect, like something out of a glossy magazine. I couldn't see a thing that needed improvement, but if Ellen did, and Bob wanted her happy, I was going to do whatever it took. I had a hundred dollar bill in my pocket, and that was a lot of money in those days. Almost what I made in a week busting my butt at my "real" job.

As I turned to go inside, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye above me. I looked up, but there was nothing there. Must have imagined it. I went back inside to wait.

Ellen,

I pulled on a sports bra and a pair of black exercise shorts. Over it I put one of Bob's old blue workshirts. That didn't look right, so I put on a tan cotton skirt, just longer than the shorts. Put on a wide brimmed sun hat and looked at myself in the mirror. Who was I kidding? I looked a schoolmarm out of

Vermont Farming

magazine. I told myself, "If you're going to fuck this kid, you're going to have to do better than this."

What, fuck this kid? What was I thinking? As I told myself how wrong it was on so many levels, I felt my fingers unbuttoning the blue shirt. Like a robot, I took it off and pulled the sports bra off over my head. I looked at my unbalanced tits. "Seriously, who wants to put his hands on these?" I thought. Not my own husband, certainly not that 18-year old hunk sitting in my kitchen who probably thought I was as old as his grandmother.

But, even as I was thinking that, I opened my drawer and took out a transparent, stretch-lace flesh colored sleep bra that gave me about as much support as nothing. But, it did hold a silicone prosthetic that filled in the divot in my left breast, and even came with a little bump where my nipple should be. I pulled on the bra and inserted the "falsie". Yep, both breasts looked close enough to the same size, and both "nipples" were on the same level. I gently bounced up and down in front of the mirror. They even moved together, or at least "close enough for government work" as people used to say in those days.

I put the workshirt back on, but I only buttoned the middle three buttons, leaving some cleavage showing above them. Below, I tied the tails together, baring my midriff. I checked myself in the mirror. Much better. Taking a deep breath, I opened the bedroom door, and started hesitantly down the stairs. Halfway down, I almost lost my nerve, but I gritted my teeth, put on a big smile, and kept going. My mind kept going "This is wrong, this won't work, he won't even want you" over and over, but my pussy was doing the walking and I made it to the kitchen. Steve was sitting at the counter, sipping the last of his coffee. He looked up at me, a surprised look in his sparkling blue eyes. Show time!

Steve

Ellen walked in the kitchen, with a funny look on her face, and another outfit the likes of which I'd never seen on her. I wondered there'd been a trick of the light before, because both of her boobs looked the same size now, and a very nice size to boot. Her nipples were just barely discernable through the shirt fabric, but I was on high alert, and I could see that they seemed to match, unlike before. But, she had a spring in her step, and between the "pokies" and the way her boobs bounced under her shirt, it didn't seem like she was wearing a bra. There was a fair amount of cleavage showing, and that was something I'd never seen on her before either.

She opened the door and led me out into the yard. There was a flower bed along the west fence about six feet wide with a stone border between the flowers and the lawn. I couldn't name them to save my life, but I remembered some tall flowers from the summer before. Yellow? I don't know, I'm not good at this stuff, but I remembered they were nice.

She seemed nervous, was talking a lot. I couldn't really follow her, and to be honest, every time she bent over to point at something, I was looking down the gap at the top of her shirt. I couldn't tell what I was seeing, but I saw a lot of upper boob, and I didn't see anything that looked like a bra. My erection was not subsiding.

She also kept touching me. A hand on my back as she pointed with the other one, a touch on my forearm with her fingers, seemingly innocent, but every time she did it there was like an electric shock between us. She looked at me, eyes glistening, lips slightly parted. Did I understand? What I understood was I was going to have to dig up the grass in an area about five feet wide, from the house to the back garden wall, a distance of at least a hundred feet. And I was going to have to dig a trench along the edge of it deep enough to take the border stones, and I was going to have to pick up every stone and move it from where it was, to the new edge.

This was going to be a lot of work. More than a day, with at least a truckload of sod to haul away, and a bunch of new potting soil to haul in. Something about low flowers, a different color, to complement the tall ones that were already there. Fortunately, I could back my truck in through the gate in the back wall, so I didn't have to haul all this weight around to the front of the house. I explained that to her. She said, fine, would a hundred dollars a day be enough? For as many days as it takes. Once the digging and border is all done, we'll go to the garden store and pick out the new flowers. Some other day.

I thought of the hundred dollar bill already in my pocket, and her offer, and Bob's offer. Make her happy. Hell, I'd do all this and screw the old girl if that's what it took. Actually, I thought I'd do all this for free if I could screw her. And then I caught myself. This is a job, you're not screwing anybody, just take the money and go home and beat off. If you get to look down her shirt all day, you'll just have more to work with. Works for me.

I went in the garage to check out her tools. She kept touching me as she pointed out each one, and looking at me with that expectant, lips parted half-smile. She had a good collection of shovels and a little garden wheelbarrow. I had my own work gloves. Good enough to do the job, so I drove my truck around back and got to work. Pretty soon I was getting hot, and I took off my shirt. I'd been working construction, and I was on the high school swim team, so I was pretty buff. Hard work, but nothing I couldn't do all day long, and I was tan enough that sunburn wasn't going to be problem.

Ellen

Steve got to work, and after a while he took off his shirt. I stood in my bedroom window and watched him. This kid was a man, and he had muscles! And a beautiful tan. I could watch this all day long, but I wanted to do more than watch.

I went downstairs, and into the garage where I got a beer out of the fridge. I popped the cap and started towards the door. Suddenly, as if I was in a trance, I hiked up my skirt and pulled down my workout shorts. I hid the shorts in the dirty laundry, and smoothed my skirt back down. I could feel the cool air in the garage on my hot pussy. I had never gone panty-less before in my life, but the minute I did it, I wondered why not. It felt great. OK, it also felt naughty, and embarrassing, and a little bit dangerous. And maybe it had something to do with being turned on as Hell, but if felt great. I felt great.