The MILFs keep coming and coming! In the third volume of this best-selling series, four older women get what they want! A sexy librarian chooses a lucky student in "His Lusty MILF Librarian." A lonely woman joins a secret club in "Valen-Teen's Day!" A perverted man of the cloth gets what he deserves in "Preacher's Perverted Cuckold," and tennis lessons turn sexy in "Game, Sex, Match!"
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
"Just relax," Ingrid purred into Ben's ear. "Don't look around for anyone else, and don't look guilty." She ran her free hand down the length of his arm, until their fingers were tangled around the handle of his racket. "We're not doing anything naughty. And I am definitely not giving you a hand-job out in front of God and everyone. That would be completely inappropriate. I'm just helping you out with...your grip," she sighed, as her fingers found what she had been looking for and began to massage him. "It's a good thing you've lost all that weight," she remarked conversationally, as he began to thicken under touch. "Or there might not be enough room in here."
Ben was shaking all over, as if he had been outside all day in January, but the part of him she was most interested in was responding quite nicely to her skilled fingers. Ingrid sighed wistfully. She did love younger men. They were so uncomplicated, so willing. And their bodies were so...enthusiastic. You didn't even really have to try.
But truth be told, she certainly enjoyed it when a young man was so transparently interested in her. And the feel of him, hard and thick and tumescent, so broad around the base that her fingers couldn't quite circle his full girth, made her doubly determined to win the match against Amanda and her greasy-palmed husband.
"You can tell?" he asked. "That I've lost weight?" And there was so much desperate hope in his tone that Ingrid was half-tempted to turn and take him in her arms then and there.
"I can," she answered. She began to move her hand quicker. So far, no one had noticed, but their luck wouldn't hold forever. And if she didn't make Ben climax soon, someone would start to wonder why they were standing so close, and where her hand actually was. "You're looking good. Way better than when you showed up a couple months back. How much weight have you lost?"
"Over twenty pounds now," he ground out from between his clenched teeth. "I'm using notches on my belts that...Jesus...I haven't used since I was in college."
"I thought so. Now me," she said with a low smile, "I get all the exercise I need on the court and in the bedroom. I bet you'll find out the same thing.
"Can't you see it, Ben? The two of us, hot and naked and sweaty and screwing like a couple of animals?" Underneath her heavy, clinging, sports bra, her breasts were almost painfully sensitive, drawn up into hard, thick buds. "That's what we could be doing, if you and I win."
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
"Just relax," Ingrid purred into Ben's ear. "Don't look around for anyone else, and don't look guilty." She ran her free hand down the length of his arm, until their fingers were tangled around the handle of his racket. "We're not doing anything naughty. And I am definitely not giving you a hand-job out in front of God and everyone. That would be completely inappropriate. I'm just helping you out with...your grip," she sighed, as her fingers found what she had been looking for and began to massage him. "It's a good thing you've lost all that weight," she remarked conversationally, as he began to thicken under touch. "Or there might not be enough room in here."
Ben was shaking all over, as if he had been outside all day in January, but the part of him she was most interested in was responding quite nicely to her skilled fingers. Ingrid sighed wistfully. She did love younger men. They were so uncomplicated, so willing. And their bodies were so...enthusiastic. You didn't even really have to try.
But truth be told, she certainly enjoyed it when a young man was so transparently interested in her. And the feel of him, hard and thick and tumescent, so broad around the base that her fingers couldn't quite circle his full girth, made her doubly determined to win the match against Amanda and her greasy-palmed husband.
"You can tell?" he asked. "That I've lost weight?" And there was so much desperate hope in his tone that Ingrid was half-tempted to turn and take him in her arms then and there.
"I can," she answered. She began to move her hand quicker. So far, no one had noticed, but their luck wouldn't hold forever. And if she didn't make Ben climax soon, someone would start to wonder why they were standing so close, and where her hand actually was. "You're looking good. Way better than when you showed up a couple months back. How much weight have you lost?"
"Over twenty pounds now," he ground out from between his clenched teeth. "I'm using notches on my belts that...Jesus...I haven't used since I was in college."
"I thought so. Now me," she said with a low smile, "I get all the exercise I need on the court and in the bedroom. I bet you'll find out the same thing.
"Can't you see it, Ben? The two of us, hot and naked and sweaty and screwing like a couple of animals?" Underneath her heavy, clinging, sports bra, her breasts were almost painfully sensitive, drawn up into hard, thick buds. "That's what we could be doing, if you and I win."