Cuck MILF –hope you like it

On mobile, sorry for formatting.

What a hectic day you’ve had. Errands to run, laundry to do, kids to feed/dress/ship off to school. Life as a stay at home mom is not easy, no matter what anyone says! Compound that by the fact that your husband, while he does make a good living, chooses to plop down in his favorite armchair with a 12 pack as soon as his boots come off at the end of the day, nary lifting a finger to assist with the chores. “That’s your job, you wanted to stay at home with the kids.” He’d say, with his trademark snarl curling downward his scraggly mustache. “Supper better be good, too.” You found solace in the fact that, a few hours from now, he’ll be passed-out drunk in that chair, and that the kids would be in bed. You could finally get a little hard-earned peace. You no longer expect your husband to attend the dinner table with the rest of the family. You are resigned to delivering his plate and flatware to his chair-side table, greeted by nothing more than an annoyed grunt. He stinks of alcohol, dirt, sweat, and anger. You do your best to keep quiet, feeding the kids and getting them ready for bed. You collect the empty plate from your husband, as you notice him starting to slip from consciousness. It’s only a matter of time. After getting the kids to bed and cleaning up the kitchen, you realize that you don’t have everything you need for tomorrow’s dinner. Your husband is now dead asleep, snoring louder than the TV still blaring in the background, the kids are off in dreamland, and the house is still. As much as you’d like to sit down and take a load off, your conscious won’t allow you. You gather your purse and keys, and quietly slip out the door to head to the 24 hour grocery store down the block. It’s a beautiful night–low 70s, not a cloud in the sky, so you decide to take your time. Literally stopping to smell the roses along the path, you haven’t felt so free in a very long time. The truth is, you love a lot of things about your life. Your kids are smart, caring, and funny. You have a nice home, a decent car, and money is seldom an issue. Yet, you long for something more. Deep down, you know your husband is a good man. He doesn’t beat you, which is more than you could say for your own mother’s experience–not that it offers much comfort. No, this is your life, enjoy it however you can–tonight, it’s a slow walk to pick up some supplies. You enjoy the sounds of the night, especially compared to the sounds of your home–insects calling out for their lovers, the rustling leaves in the trees along your path–solitude. You round the corner a few blocks away, and the grocery store sign pierces the night, like a neon alarm clock ripping you from the most pleasant dream. Back to reality, you stroll up to the front of the store, pull a cart from the queue, and head inside. The clientele is sparse, aged, and eerily suspicious of your presence, but you carry on unhindered. Gathering the items you had parsed in your mental list, which you meticulously maintain. Ever the bargain shopper, you take your time reading labels, something you have to forego when the kids are with you. You’re reminded that it’s the small things in life that give you the most pleasure. You see a few friendly faces as you stroll up and down every aisle, even the pet aisle, although you have no pets–it’s just good to be out of the house for a bit. As you neared the end of your list, you realize you had missed the baking aisle, so you turned and headed back to the back of the store. You felt a sense of urgency and quickly reminded yourself that you were in no rush, and that you’re allowed to make your own choices. The thought comforted you, more so than the thought of returning to your snoring lump on the couch at home. As you approach the baking aisle, you roll past a younger man, mid-20s who looks like he’s just finishing a jog. He smiles and nods your direction as he picks up an energy bar and a sports drink. You return the smile, and round the corner with your cart. The items you need are on the bottom shelf, and being later in the evening, you will have to do a little grocery-store-limbo to retrieve them. You push your cart out of the way and squat down next to the shelves. You have to lean in pretty far to reach your items, and you are unaware that your thong has become exposed from the back of your shorts as you lean forward. “Oh my goodness!” You hear from behind you. Startled, you turn your head and smack it on the underside of the shelf-hard enough to make a loud clang. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you! Here, let me help you up.” You were still seeing stars, but you felt the firm grip of a man’s hands on your wrists, lifting you from the floor. You stand and lock eyes with the sporty guy you had just seen minutes ago. “Are you ok?” He asks, brushing your hair away from your forehead. You’re still too startled to speak. “Well, you’re not bleeding, but it might leave a mark!” He leans forward to get a closer look, and you start to snap out of your trance. “Thank you.” you say, not being able to break your gaze. You realize that another adult is being kind to you for the first time in a long time, and you again start to see stars. “I think you need to sit down.” He says, guiding you toward your cart. Your embarrassment rises to the surface and you feel your cheeks flush. You have your wits about you once again and you fumble awkwardly with the handle To the cart. “Thank you, no. I’ll be fine.” You say through a smile as you turn and scurry away. You proceed through the self-checkout, being sure to enter your member number–those fuel points really add up! You’re careful to double bag your groceries since you’re walking, but you know you’ll reuse the bags. You leave the store and turn the corner, headed toward home. The blaring store sign fading slowly behind you, “Hey, sorry again for scaring you back there.” You hear from over your shoulder. You are again startled, but only minimally. You turn to face the same young man from the grocery store. Your mind turns immediately to the embarrassing feeling you had when you first spoke, then your eyes met. In the relative darkness you could only tell that his eyes were light but he was athletic and tan. His dirty blonde hair was half wet with leftover sweat from his jog, and you could smell the energy drink on his breath. It reminded you of those rolls of sugary candy you used to get while trick or treating. He must be half your age. “Oh, it’s ok. I’m clumsy sometimes.” You dismiss yourself and turn to walk away. “Can I at least offer to carry your bags? It looks like we’re going the same direction.” He offered. You were moved by his kindness once more, and impressed by his persistence. “I’m quite capable, but thank you.” You smiled and turned away from him and began walking home. “You know, you shouldn’t be out here alone this late at night. A MILF like you would be a prime target.” He stated matter-of-factly. You stop walking, feeling slightly offended by his sexist comments. You turn and start walking back towards him, “What did you call me, young man?” You could feel the sternness in your face. “I don’t appreciate being called names. I’m old enough to be your mother!” Standing there, hands on your hips, holding your grocery bags–you felt as old as you sounded, and you started to giggle. The young man looked quite confounded and was briefly speechless. “I…I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I meant it as a compliment. Have a nice night.” He turned to walk away. “Young man,” you call out, “wait…I’ll be honest, I don’t even know what MILF means, but if it’s a compliment, then thank you.” He seems to recognize the cultural gap he’s encountered, “It means Mother I’d like to…Uh, you know…”. But, you really didn’t know. You stood there, confused, just staring at him for what seemed like eternity. “Fuck! It means Mother I’d like to fuck.” He says, visibly uncomfortable. Your first reaction was to feel gravely offended, but those thoughts quickly turned to the last time you felt wanted in that way. You couldn’t manage to find words to express how you felt, but only because you were uncertain yourself. Flattery was an unfamiliar feeling for you, and he could see as much in your face. “It’s a complement, really. It means you’re attractive to guys my age.” He was sincere, you could tell. “Back there in the grocery store, you were showing whale tail, and I …” you interrupt, “whale tail? What is…” your look of confusion cause him to laugh. “Your thong, I could see it when you were bending over. It was really hot, and I just blurted something out. Sorry, I’m a little ashamed…”. Hot was not an adjective you heard often in your frame of reference, but you couldn’t help but feel flattered. You do like wearing your thongs. They give you a small glimmer of sexiness in an otherwise blasé world. There was an awkward pause, “I…I should get going, my ice cream is melting.” You toss out as an excuse to leave. “Where do you live?” He asks. “Just down the street a few blocks, down on the right–the cul de sac.” You gesture with your grocery bags. “I’m headed that way, too. The least I could do is help you carry your stuff. What do you say?” He was sweet, and attractive, and a boy as far as your age gap was concerned. “Sure…” you nod, extending your bags in his direction. You made small talk on the short journey. He told you his name was Kyle. You don’t know why, but you lied to him–you told him your name was Olivia. It was a name you had always loved; it was dark and mysterious–at least when you were his age. You could tell he knew Olivia wasn’t your real name, but you could also tell he didn’t care. You stole the occasional side-glance at his athletic frame, and he, being nearly 8 inches taller than you, kept stealing his own down the front of your v-neck. It was exciting to flirt, but you had finally arrived at your house, and you remembered your sleeping/snoring family on the other side of the door. “Well, thanks for helping me out, even if you might be a pervert.” You flirt innocently. “MIGHT be?” He joked back, “if all the moms in this neighborhood look like you, who could blame a guy?” You giggle and instinctively twirl your hair in response. With your groceries still in his hands he leans in quickly and kisses you full on the lips. You’re taken aback, a little shocked. He stares deep into your eyes. You can’t move an inch. He leans in again and your lips meet, only this time you don’t resist. This time you gently kiss back. You feel his tongue part your lips, hot and swollen, hard like a strong muscle. You haven’t been kissed like this in years. Your hand reaches up and puts a palm flat against his muscled chest. You can feel his heart racing. Suddenly, you realize you’re standing in front of your house. Any of your neighbors could see you, and this wouldn’t sit well with your husband. You feel a slight panic. “I should go, my kids…my husband are inside…I mean, they’re asleep, but…”. He leans in again and kisses you hard. He drops your groceries on the lawn and pushes you slowly against the pillar of your front porch. The motion light comes on, and you hear your neighbor’s dog start barking. “Shhhhh…” you say, putting a finger to his lips, “follow me.” You lead him to the side door of the house, which opens into the kitchen. You quietly unlatch the door and it lets out a slight creak as you open it. He’s behind you with your bags in one hand, and he runs his empty hand up the inside of your thigh, sending a spark that makes your nipples rock hard. You giggle softly and tip-toe into the kitchen pantry and set down the bags. You can hear your husband snoring in the living room, and the tv is still on. In the pantry, he starts kissing your neck, pulling your t-shirt aside to expose your shoulder. Your bra strap falls loosely to one side as he cups your breast with his massive hand. He quickly lowers himself down your body, pausing to pay tribute to your nipples, navel, and finding prolonged respite at the top of your panties. You are dripping wet, literally, you can feel your juices running down your thighs. You haven’t been this turned on since adolescence. With his tongue tugging the front band of your thong, he takes the sides of your shorts in both hands and pulls them down to your ankles in one stroke. You quickly step out of your shorts, your thong and tennis shoes still on. He drops to his knees, lifts your left leg onto his shoulder, pulled your panties aside, and buries his face in your boiling snatch. You let out a yelp of pleasure and your husband’s snoring is briefly interrupted. You try to push his head away, but he’s not budging. His tongue has the same stamina as his whole generation. The snoring picks back up and you relax a bit. Your beau is a professional pussy licker, the likes of which you have never seen. You’re certain you’ll cum any second, and you can’t guarantee you’ll be subtle about it, but suddenly he pulls away and wipes off his face to reveal the biggest smile you’ve ever witnessed. “I wanna fuck that pussy.” He states, with a determined look in his eyes. “My husband is asleep in the other room, he’ll hear us…”. You are being pulled by the hand from the pantry and he’s taking you to the living room. You resist, and try to pull back, but he pulls you into the room. Your soaked panties are barely clinging to you, and your man has a huge bulge in his shorts. He leads you over to the chair where your husband is asleep and pulls you down on the carpet. He uses one hand to pull his shorts down and the other for balance. His hard cock springs forth from his shorts with the elasticity of a catapult, and without even touching it he uses the head to find your awaiting vulva. He looks into your eyes with pure lust as he sinks his cock deep into you. You’re fighting the urge to scream out in joy, but you don’t want it to stop. He’s steadily pumping in and out, his balls slapping softly against your ass. Your wetness has spread and your musk fills the room. He suddenly pulls out and turns you over. He positions you so that you are facing your husband in the chair, and he enters you hard from behind. He pounds you relentlessly as you feel the rugburn growing on your knees and elbows. His wandering hands find your breasts, then a handful of your hair. He gives a good tug and thrusts extra deep. Over and over again he fills your cavern with his young meat. You feel your orgasm building like never before as he clasps his hands around your throat. He applies more pressure than you expect and the room begins to go dark. Within a few more thrusts you reach the most stunning orgasm you have ever felt. You are unable to breathe, but the pleasure replaces all of the fear. As you fade out, you feel his cock pulsing, filling you with his virile cum. You feel the edge of another orgasm coming on as you black out. You come to about an hour later, lying on the living room floor. Your panties are half down your legs, and there’s a pool of cum that has dripped from your hammered pussy. You survey the surroundings and find your husband still snoring away. You gather yourself and walk into the kitchen. You notice that your groceries are put away and everything has been straightened up. You stand there, a little dumbfounded that you’ve done this, it strangely not holding any regret. You look down at the counter and laugh. You see the receipt from the grocery store on the counter. You pick it up and turn it over to find handwritten, phone number and simply, Kyle.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/8pmva2/cuck_milf_hope_you_like_it