My MILF of a mom is getting extramarital dick

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I never knew my mom to be the cheating sort.

Despite being in her late 40s, she was still a bombshell of a woman - tall, with a head full of untamable red curls, mischievous emerald eyes, voluptuous to the point she only wore custom-fitted clothes, my mom was incredibly desirable.

So of course there were plenty of guys, some older, most of them younger, who often tried to hit on her. They’d buy her drinks at bars and restaurants, catcall her from their cars, even construction workers would grab their dicks through their dirty work jeans to show off some damn impressive packages, but mom would always laugh them all off and decline their advances, pointing at the huge rock on her finger. A man had already seen her beauty and her kind soul and decided to claim her as his own and my mom has always been loyal to him.

She’d been married for almost ten years now to a guy who basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Not to mention that she and Tom, my stepdad, always seemed to be as in love now as they had been when they had first met. They never argued. They never slept in separate rooms or beds. They never so much as looked at each other with anything but love. And, as embarrassing as it was to say it, well, if my hearing served me well, they were still having healthy amounts of sex every week too.

My mom was the image, the very definition, even, of the proper homemaker. The moment she got engaged, she quit her day job and has been instead working hard for us. She cooked us meals from scratch every day, she kept the house clean and warm, and she was totally dedicated to her duties.

I’ve always wanted to be just like her and to find myself a man to love me just the way dad loved her.

Until now, that was.

My cheerleading practice had ended early and I had rushed straight home, eager to tell my mom that Nick, the guy I’ve had a crush on since forever had finally asked me out. I was so ecstatic, I couldn’t wait to share my awesome news.

What I found when I got home, however, ripped the joy from my chest, stole my breath away, deafened me to anything that might have been happening outside. As of a few seconds ago, mere moments really, my entire world had been reduced to my family’s kitchen and what was going on between its four walls. My beautiful, constantly expanding, always sunny world, was now reduced to these unspeakable things. These disloyal, disgraceful, distasteful… horrible… things that were taking place.

And worst of all, after all had been said and done, I feared that what I was seeing and hearing now was going to ruin my good feelings towards my mom forever.

She was with some man I hadn’t seen before and he was fondling her breasts. He had her trapped between his massive frame and the kitchen island.

I wished I could say I was witnessing a rape.

Visually, everything matched.

This mountain of a guy clearly wasn’t from around here. His skin was darker. Maybe he was tanned, he looked like he’d been out in the sun all day and not in a nice office, working a boring 9-to-5 job, like most of our neighbours. He was also wearing cheap, ill-fitted jeans, and a white wifebeater. His thick arms and wide chest were full of basic, unimaginative tattoos. He looked like some back alley thug, like he’d barged in here to steal our TV and when he found my mom, likely scared and hiding in some corner, he decided to help himself to her defenseless body too, while he was at it.

And for her part, my mom looked pretty ravaged, what with her smudged lipstick, her runny mascara, her pleading, mewling, voice and the way his rough, dirty hands were kneading her flesh. It looked uncomfortable, even painful. It made my breasts ache just from watching him do these things to her. He then even pulled out her tits to hang over the top of her dress and slapped them, making me recoil.

But despite all this, it clearly wasn’t a rape.

She wasn’t fighting him off. At all. On the contrary, she was pushing her ass against the man’s crotch and had even reached out a hand to grab his head as he kissed her neck, leaving a trail of saliva on her white skin.

“Please, you can’t be here,” she whispered, eyes closed in pure delight. “Tell me where to come and I will.”

“Oh, I know you will come,” the man chuckled. “I know that because I will fucking make you come in more than one way.”

Through the fabric of her summer dress, he cupped her mound and she let out another mewl.

I wanted to say something, to make them stop, to tell her not to hitch up her dress for this dude. To beg her not to do this, and certainly not like this, not in our home, not on the table she made dad his lunch boxes.

“You’re so mean.”

“Why is that, Lindsay? Afraid your pussy husband is going to find out about me? Or the truth about the kind of woman he married? You’re anything but a saint, babe. In fact, you have been really naughty and I think you deserve to be punished.”

I closed my eyes, wishing I could unsee and unhear all this. It was horrible enough that they were fucking behind dad’s back, so why mock him that way too? He was anything but a pussy. He was better than both of them put together, the lying cheater and her dirty thug.

“I’m so sorry, Curtis,” she cried out and it came out half-pained, half-moaned. “I know I did you wrong. Punish me. Hurt my pussy. Wreck it, Curtis. I want you to ruin me for other men, re-claim me as yours.”

Curtis, she’d said his name was, had his hand inside her panties, getting her wet and ready. She was trembling in his arms, letting out small pained cries, but still rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat. Whatever he was doing to her down there, she was into it and I could hardly stand it.

“It’s fine, babe,” he said, playing with my mom’s body as if he owned it.

I had to wonder how long this had been going on. It didn’t look like a first time to me. He knew her body, what made her moan, what made her yelp. He was an artist and she w

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Written by Hazel Grace
Cargado November 2, 2021
Notes MILF of a mom has a secret life I hadn't been privy to.
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