As for the other two, it would give me great pleasure to punch Ryan hard on the nose, and then bitch-slap the slut that he was fucking.
Ryan was about to leave, and because he was the last one, I could confront him. I wasn’t going to punch him, even though I wanted to, but I was going to give him a piece of my mind. However, before I could, he suddenly hugged me. So tight that it was difficult to breathe.
“Sorry, it won’t happen again.”
When he released me, he gave me a big smile. His handsome face was close to mine. That’s when I realized, to my surprise, that instead of wanting to punch him, I wanted to kiss him, and on the lips.
As I watched him leave, my breathing was laboured, and there was that familiar tingling in my pussy. It was telling me that it wanted cock, his cock!
For the next half an hour that was the only thing that I could think about. It was ridiculous, it was stupid, and worse, it was dangerous. There were lots of reasons why it should not happen, all of them sensible. But I dismissed all of them. If Brad wasn’t up to it, then his Son could take his place.
I was doing the housework with a smile on my face. It had been a problem, a big one, but I now had a solution to it. My Step-Son was going to fuck me. I was confident that he’d want to, but as time went by I started to have doubts. When it got to midday those doubts were becoming serious.
It was time to think about it again, and this time, in more detail.
I’m forty one years old, and without wanting to boast, I can say with confidence that I’m still attractive. All those hours in the gym have paid off because I’ve managed to keep my figure. I’m busty, but not outrageously so, and I know from experience that I have a bottom that men adore. So I have a good body, but what about my face? My full lips and sparkling blue eyes are its best feature. I’ve been told by lots of people that I’m beautiful, so I must be!
That self-analysis cheered me up. I was a hot MILF, so why would he say no to me?
However, was that confidence justified? I could hold my own against any woman of my own age, but Ryan always dated younger women. Women within a year or two of his age. His current girlfriend was a typical example.
Chantelle has a body type that’s similar to mine. Her breasts are slightly bigger, but not by much. Comparing bottoms, mine is fuller so I’m the winner. But I can’t compete against her waist, it’s ridiculously narrow. She’s got a pretty face, with a perfect nose, but my mouth and eyes trump that.
I was convinced that because he was attracted to her he must be attracted to me. Then I made the mistake of looking at myself in the full-length mirror in the master bedroom.
I was pleased to see that I didn’t have many wrinkles, but I sighed when I remembered that Chantelle had none. And even though my breasts looked good, from the cleavage that was now being displayed, it was obvious that they weren’t as firm as hers. And reluctantly, I’d have to admit to a couple of extra pounds around my waist.
I didn’t want to cry, and I did my best to hold the tears back, but now they were running down my cheeks. The women that he liked were twenty years younger than me, and that would be the decisive factor for him choosing them rather than me.