It sure as hell did not start this way. I don't even remember it happening. But here it is. "I love cock!" I muttered out loud. I glanced around. My hand trembled against the paper cup. Nobody heard me I noted as I glanced around the coffee shop. I glanced back to the boy behind the counter. He looked to me, his face breaking into a smile. I grinned back, dipping my eyes to give a sultry look.
My mind whirred again. "Cock!" it screamed. Glancing at the clock, 7:43am. Two minutes. He would be available. What had I become. A slut? A fucking, horny, cock slut. My wetness crept into my slit. I could feel it, warm, wet, seeping into my crotch. In 5-minutes, I would have his glorious cock between my cunt lips, holding the bathroom counter, being hammered by his magnificent, beautiful cock. "Oh God," I groaned out loud. I grew flush. Would anyone hear me whimper, hear his hips slam against my flesh? I pulled my legs together hard, pinching my clit. Shifting just right, I could massage my clit. I quickly glanced to the clock. Could I give myself an orgasm in 60-secoonds? I shifted my butt back and forth, my clit pinched just so.
"Mom," Bobby called.
My eyes flashed open. I glanced to him, stepping through the counter. Standing, I walked briskly toward him. We moved toward the restrooms. His pants bulged, I could make out his cock pointing straight forward. He turned to lead me back. I followed, watching his ass. I groaned openly, my mind flashing a mental picture of his ass, hard, hairy, tight. My hands clenched, imaging them cupped around his cheeks, pulling him to me, sliding his cock effortlessly into my face, pushing his man meat down my throat. I loved his monstrous cock. My paper towel cock I laughed to myself. His cock was the size of a paper towel tube. Long, good girth, my cunt throbbed.
"Mother, you ok?" he asked as I stepped into the restroom behind him. He pushed the door closed, locking it. He stepped to me, his cock poking into my ribs. I could not breathe. I grabbed him, both hands wrapping around his cock.
"I just need you to cum for me sweetie. I need to have you fill your momma's cunt with your juices Baby," I whispered softly. "I dressed just for you Baby, just for you to bend me over and slide you big fucking cock into my wet, wet cunt," I continued looking to him.
"God Mom," he breathed through clenched teeth. "Do it," he commanded. I turned quickly, leaned to rip my panties down, pulled up my skirt to my back, and bent over at the waist to lean on the counter top. Germs climbing on my arms passed quickly into my mind. I spread my feet, tilted my ass.
"Please Baby," I muttered. He grabbed my hip, his free hand pulling his cock up and down my slit, the head sliding softly between the wet lips. Dipping his hips, aligning his cock to my wet hole, he pushed gently. The head slid forward as he grabbed the other hip. Pulling, he slid part way into my cunt.
"Oh Jesus yes Mother," he grunted.
My mind wandered. Two months! Two glorious, cock filled months. And a year before that, I was a plump, overweight mother of 3-boys, wife to a corporate executive, entertained constantly, ate rich foods, shopped until I grew tired of it, but supported the men in my life. I did not exercise with any consistency, dieted when I thought it would help, so the weight grew on me. And hubby got a large belly from our pampered lifestyle. And our sex life grew non-existent. I vividly remember him rolling over to me one morning at 5am, rubbing my back as he had done so many times, but his belly hit my fat ass. I so loved his cock to slide into my wet vagina, but our age, our physical shape, and lack of interest had killed our sex lives. That morning, after my wake-up backrub, I rolled over, grabbed his cock, stroked it till it grew semi-hard. With hope, vigor, I started getting wet, knowing I would soon have his large cock between my legs. Then our bellies touched. Absolutely fucking gross! My tits hung like udders, nipples stiff, begging, wanting.
"Time to get up," hubby said, rolled to his back, squared to the edge, and bounded up. My non existent sex life. My cunt throbbed. I so needed an orgasm. But I resigned myself to doing it in a minute, after he headed to the bathroom. I masturbated, bringing myself to a quick, somewhat numbing orgasm. But I was pissed. Never again would I gross myself out with my body, his body. We were going to be on a mission to save our bodies, lives, and most importantly, get fucked often.
For the next week, I researched every diet plan, every eating plan, every nuance of healthy living I could find on the internet, visited my doctor's office, and ate, lived, and breathed our next steps. The following Saturday, I took hubby to breakfast. "Ed, we are going to change our lives," I told him over our last cup of coffee. "Beginning Monday, I will have a new, revised plan for eating, exercising, and living that will drastically change our lives, I continued. Over the next half hour, I explained what I expected, what I wanted, and how we would ultimately welcome the change.
"Thank God," he stated after my dissertation. "I thought you were trying to kill us slowly, but early," he laughed. "I'm all yours babe," he finished.
For the next 8-months, we followed a modified plan that resulted in drastic changes in our bodies. I lost 60-lbs slowly, my skin shrinking at is should. I toned, tanned, and did what was necessary. Standing 5'4" tall, I now weighed 135-lbs. He lost 84-lbs over the same period. He cheated slightly, getting some initial liposuction on his belly and love handles, but it was motivation for him to move forward. He is 6'6" tall, weighing in now at 233-lbs.
Now, 8-months later our energy for life had changed drastically. But more importantly, I got fucked once or twice a week. I began to crave it, need it, want it so badly, I would masturbate when needed to relieve the new cravings. But with each orgasm came a need for another. Soon, I was masturbating daily. I bought toys, stuffing my cunt with life like cocks, hammering my soaked cunt often, for hours at a time it seemed. And god, it was a daily need. 48-years old, a smoldering, wet cunt in constant need of relief.
Then my world changed in ways never considered. My two younger boys returned home for summer break from their respective colleges. It was so good to have them home again, I never even considered what an impact it would have on my sex life. Suddenly, I was relegated to have my masturbation play first thing in the morning while they still slept. I would get the hubby off, slip back to bed, and masturbate from about 8am till approximately 9:30am, knowing the boys would not wake before then. I made this schedule work. I would then dress in exercise clothes, and hit our home gym. The boys often joined me in my workouts.
I never really thought about it, but workout clothes for a lady can be sexy. And loose fitting shorts on young studs can be somewhat revealing. Hubby had put up mirrors on the walls of our little home gym, and I used it to watch my workout many times. But when the boys came, I started noticing glances my way in the mirrors. Long, admiring looks at my backside, glancing looks at my chest when I lifted, watching my flexing pecs. My tits stood firm now, a major change since the loss of weight. And the thrill of these glances would harden my nipples. Many in-head discussions took place, my brain telling me to stop enjoying these glances. But my body responded, nipples growing even harder, poking the hard nub into my small sports bra firmly, the nub clearly visible. And the boys knew. Our family had never been shy about sex or our bodies, but these knowing glances, their protruding shorts were now becoming constant mind games for me. I often wondered what they were thinking. I wanted so much to be considered hot for them. "MILF," I chuckled to myself on more than one occasion.
I found myself purposefully moving to the bench press when they lifted. I would straddle the bench, facing them as they leaned back, opened their legs, god, hoping for a glance of upper thigh, a misguided cock head. I grew bolder, starting to stand near their heads, spotting for the bench press. Could they smell my sex? Was I wet enough for the musky smell to drift to their nostrils. I had started wearing tight, short fleece shorts, tight enough to show my camel toe, and watched them constantly glance to my crotch. "Yes," I softly whispered with Jr. on the bench, pushing my hips forward slightly. One day, I had worn a shear pair of panties, hoping for them to see up my loose fitting shorts. Jr. stared at me, pushing the weight up and down several times. Simultaneously, his shorts rose, his cock pushing hard against the material of his shorts. I smiled at him. "Thanks baby," I leaned to whisper softly. I grew flush, my mind now screaming at me in harsh terms. I moved quickly to the sit up mats. "God," I again whispered loudly. I glanced to Jr. He smiled broadly.
I glanced to Bobby. He also looked to me, his eyes smiling. I leaned back, content to do situps. The boys disappeared, leaving me to my routine. But almost instantly, they returned, joining me. Sitting, facing me, cross legged, each one to my side, near my torso they sat with elbows on their knees.