MILF and the Horny BBC

'HORNY BBC needs white c**t.

Looking for a proper dirty fuck with a nice, tight white pussy. I'm looking for a proper rough fuck so girls, only get in touch if you can take a thorough pounding'.

The advert didn't shock her particularly.

She'd seen far more outrageous things these past months. From 'Nappy fun with willing Nanny wanted' to 'Watersports - Pee and leave'

But there was something that intrigued her about this one. Firstly, there were accompanying pictures that appeared to be of dubious-enough quality to believe that they were genuine. He was reasonably athletic and was mouth-wateringly well hung. It also said he was 31 years old. Most alluringly, his location was tantalisingly close.

In a matter of moments, she'd calculated the distance, decided that she would only consider it in a neutral location and wondered which hotel she'd consider for such a tryst.

"What am I thinking?" She said out loud.

Caryn was a 45year old divorcee. Her husband had left her many years ago. Their son, who had been estranged from his father was now living with him having decided to attend a university near to where he lived.

Since her husband had left her for a younger model (and gratifyingly, her ex-husband was now spending what little money he had putting her through a rehabilitation programme for Crack Cocaine addiction) Caryn had enjoyed physical relations with a number of men

There'd been Errol Junior, a 18 year old student-friend of her son.

They had enjoyed months of unadulterated fun until he'd met someone closer to his own age. This would have been very frustrating as he was 'hung' and extremely keen but the void left by him had been filled by an unlikely source.

Errol's father, Errol Snr, had been the focus of her attention for many months afterward and Caryn had enjoyed a much deeper (in more ways than one) relationship with him. She couldn't bring herself to admit it, but she had started to fall in love with him. Their relationship had been sex, sex and more sex and yet they'd enjoyed one another on another level. But Errol Snr had died suddenly. Struck down in his prime by a brain haemorrhage.

Since then, the 'pickings' had been very slim indeed and she was becoming desperate. In fact, she increasingly found herself surfing the internet for risque images or websites. But she was becoming bored of seeing other people having sex online and had turned her attention to the 'Casual Encounters' adverts in Craigslist which was how she'd come across the 'Horny BBC'.

Caryn was a very attractive, petite, living doll of a woman. From top to toe she oozed sex appeal. Her legs had been described as 'traffic-stopping'. Her butt was a perfect peach ('Bubble butt' Errol Snr had called it.) Her stomach was flat and toned thanks to a disciplined attitude to food and regular gym workouts and running. Her enormous tits had absolutely no right adorning such a tiny frame but her 34FF breasts were her own pride and joy and since her husband had left she'd displayed them through tight clothing at all times, amusing herself as men crashed their bikes and walked into lamp posts whilst staring at her. Her blonde hair (not natural but her transition to blonde had been gradual enough so that people hardly noticed) was full with just the right amount of bounce.

She knew women of her age who had no interest in sex. They had started eating and drinking heavily as if trying to use food as a barrier to the men in their lives. Every cream cake that they stuffed into their mouths was like a hastily drawn placard saying 'I have no interest in getting intimate with you.'

For Caryn it was different because, when it really came down to it; when she actually sat down and thought about it; she just loved to be fucked. She loved the anticipation, she loved the raw act and she adored the calm after the storm; her pussy either sore or tingling-hot from the 'abuse' it had just taken. She loved a strong man (or at the moment, any man) pounding his engorged cock into her hungry, ever-wet pussy.

She had asked herself many times whether she thought that she was addicted to sex but didn't really want to know the answer because the thought of a doctor telling her to abstain from sex for a month was a horrifying thought (perhaps this proved her addiction?)

'HORNY BBC needs white c**t.'

"That's me. Except, I'm a horny white piece of ass!" Jilly said out loud.

On impulse, she decided to write a reply.

This would not be as risky as it seemed, she said to herself, as she would use an anonymous email address. Since her husband had dumped her so unceremoniously, she had learned so much about the world wide web. 'Disposable email' was just one of the 'must-haves' for a MILF on the prowl.

'Dear Horny BBC

You sound exactly what I've been looking for. I too am horny as hell and would love the idea of proving that I can keep up with you (and would love you to try and prove me wrong!)

I'm not young but I could be described as a MILF or maybe a Cougar! You don't need to know my age but I am a petite 5ft 2inches, have slender legs and my 34FF tits and bubble butt regularly stop traffic. I always dress in high heels and short skirts and I am someone who now lives her life using the mantra: 'I will try anything once'.

I would rather not accommodate (though I live in the Patterswick area, quite near to where you say you're from) and would feel uneasy about coming to you until we got to know each other but I would be willing to meet somewhere neutral. For a coffee? At a bar? A Hotel?

Write back if you're interested.'

Jilly re-read her message and then considered how he might read between the lines of what she was saying.

For 'Not young' read 'old and wrinkled and probably fat.'

For 'love to dress up' read 'happiest in a twin set and pearls'.

She added to her message.

'I attach some anonymous pictures to prove that I'm in good shape and worth meeting.'

She left her computer on and turned on the application that operated her webcam as a camera. She stepped back and then kept adjusting the screen until she could stand upright in front of the camera, her head 'cut off' to maintain her anonymity.

Once the angles were sorted, she looked at herself. Today had been a boring and tedious day and even though she had to admit she looked pretty good in her skin tight jeans and tight t shirt, it was hardly the clothing of a super MILF.

She pulled off her t shirt. Her bra was quite plain but it accentuated the curves of her breasts. She slid out of her jeans and stood, looking at herself. By turning her lower body, it would reveal her butt, her simple, black thong accentuating the perfection of her peachy ass. Her breasts were enormous for anyone, but for her frame they were spectacular. Some would presume she had bought them but they were all hers.

She stood, proud.

She put her hands on her hips. When she felt she had a pose that would work for her, she pressed the 'record' button and a set of images were captured. She chose two or three.

They showed him the goods, she didn't need to send any more.

Before she could change her mind, she pressed 'send'.

She stared for a few seconds, expecting the screen to do something but it merely confirmed with uninspiring sterility that her message had been delivered.

It was mid morning and outside, a slow, lazy drizzle was settling in for the day. She went to a cupboard and took out a cup, absently flicking the switch for the kettle as she walked by. She opened the tea tin and took out a bag and was about to drop it into the cup when she heard the familiar sound her computer telling her she had an email.

She paused, dropped the tea bag into the cup and turned, bending over the kitchen counter still in her underwear.

She clicked on her email programme and sure enough, there at the top, in bold type, a message from an odd looking sender (displaying all the Craigslist code.) In the title it read 'HORNY BBC needs white c**t' as if she needed confirmation of the sender.

She read.

"Fuck, bitch! Youz 1 fucking hot MILF cock bitch whore. I cud tear youz apart now. Les meet. I need to get my giant nigga cock balls deep in yur tight white pussy, yo fuckin prick tease bitch. I hope yur not fuckn around."

Jilly smiled but felt uneasy. Despite her anxiety, she could feel herself becoming wet at the thought of this stranger thinking of her as a cock hungry whore. And she squirmed at the idea of being taken so roughly by this dangerous-sounding black man.

She began to type.

"Well, Horny BBC, you seem very keen!

I can assure you I'm real and likewise I hope your pictures are authentic.

Meeting up would be a good idea just to make sure we are who we say we are. Let me know your availability."

She sent it without a moment's hesitation. She didn't want him to go elsewhere and be waiting for a reply.

She turned to pour the boiling water into the cup and before she'd finished stirring her computer bleeped once again.

"I'm free now, bitch. Meet yo white ass now. If u cock-hungry as u say, ull take one luk at my sweet meat and want to feel it in yo wherever we meet. I know Patterswick. I can meet u there in 30. Name the fuckin place, bitch + make sure you cum dressed and ready. Yo int gonna wanna hang around talking once yo see me, bitch. And like I said, I hope you like your fucking ruff cos thats how u gon get it."

This was moving way faster than Jilly had anticipated. She paused, staring into the distance and absently stroking the material at the front of her thong.

After a moment she started typing furiously.

"Well, Horny BBC

You must have something very urgent you need to tell (or show) me!

Okay let's meet at Starbucks in the precinct. There are two levels, the main level and a lower level..."

Jilly had enjoyed coffee there before many times, though not too many that she was a regular. The downstairs was a very discrete location and, in her limited experience, was usually deserted and would be even quieter, she surmised, on a wet Tuesday morning.

"...I'll meet you at the lower level. I will get my own drink!!" I'll meet you there at 12pm, midday. Let's see after we've met and spoken whether we will want to meet again for something more intimate."

This gave her over ninety minutes to get ready and get there. Plenty of time.

PING!

"Ok Bitch. Starbucks or Starfucks? Lol. This is how it's gon go. You gon be dripping when we meet and today, YES TODAY, u gon be begging me ta fuck you. THEN wen I get your sweet ass on my dik, youz gon be begging me to stop! See u at 12, Cougar/Milf Bitch"

He was nothing if not confident. She had kept insisting (as much for her own mind as his) that this was a preliminary meeting just to meet and see if they were at least part compatible. She assured herself that she could walk away at any time. Those were the rules.

Shaking with excitement, giddy with anticipation but with a gnawing doubt in her mind, she half ran up the stairs and dived in the shower, discarding her underwear as she went.

In the shower, she started shaking uncontrollably; her stomach cramping as she imagined what she may be letting herself in for. She breathed deeply and the moist, hot air in the shower room calmed her. She lathered soap over her skin and paid special attention to the mound of her pussy. She took her razor and carefully traced it over her pussy area, making sure she was clean and smooth down there.

Next, she turned the shower off and allowed the water to drip from her delicate skin. She unscrewed the head of the shower and laid it on the shelf of the shower. She opened the shower door and leaned out, opening a cupboard under the sink. She grabbed a silver dong. It had small holes in the insertable end and the other end attached to the end of the shower hose where the shower head had just been. She screwed it in and turned the water back on, waiting a few seconds for the pressure and temperature to be just right. She didn't really know why she was about to give her ass a douche but perhaps it was because she wanted to cover all the bases even though she was determined that she would not be 'putting out' today with a complete stranger.

She took some shower oil and applied to her her anus. She took some more and applied a little to the steel of the dong. She turned and manoeuvred it to her waiting ass. She pressed it home and she felt the warm liquid forcing its way inside her. She felt her belly slowly swelling as the water pushed itself deep inside. When she could take no more, she turned off the tap and stood, clenching as hard as she could. Again she opened the shower door and gingerly stepped out, grabbing a towel as she went. She roughly dried herself and before she took her seat on the toilet, she massaged her stomach with her hands. She was in control and decided to get down on all fours, pushing her ass high in the air to let gravity take a turn with the water inside her.

After a few more minutes, she slowly got up and sat on the toilet, finally allowing herself to release the water. It took several minutes for the water to fully leave her. She flushed and repeated this process twice more. By the time she'd finished, she felt truly clean, fresh and ready. Ready for what? Coffee? A chat? Hardcore, scary sex including anal? She shuddered and continued her preparation.

She found some lube on a shelf in her cupboard (she seemed to have lube in every room) and dabbed a pea-sized amount onto her middle finger. She brought her hand to her backside and delicately massaged the gel into her anus, inserting her finger and immediately feeling fresh moisture in her pussy. She applied the gel twice more and her ass felt 'oiled' and a little squelchy.

Finally she made her way to the bedroom.

"...make sure you cum dressed and ready..."

She had every intention of being dressed to kill.

She'd start with her shoes. Ankle boots actually. They were patent shiny with a croc skin pattern. A high, high heel and a big platform. The rest of the clothing came together quickly after that. She decided against knickers...just in case.

Within what seemed like mere minutes since she'd sent the first reply, she found herself pulling on a tight, sexy brown leather jacket and getting in to her car ready to drive to the town centre. It was only a very short distance but her clothing was fairly extreme for the time of day and she wanted to keep the 'tut tutting' to a minimum. Also, her ability to walk in heels was good but she didn't see the need to push herself TOO hard. Besides, it looked like rain.

Within four minutes, she arrived at the town's underground car park and went down two levels and then found a third sub level and decided to go deeper into the belly of the car park; the better, she felt, to be anonymous. There were one or two other cars on this level but otherwise it was perfectly deserted. She found a secluded, dark spot where the lights had failed and not been replaced, gunned the engine and switched off the the ignition.

She turned on the courtesy light and checked her face in the mirror and suddenly had some doubts about herself. She was much older than the man she was about to meet and...she stopped. She knew deep down that she could still hold a roomful of men in the palm of her hand just by wearing a tight top or a short skirt. Who was she kidding, this kid would be a pussycat. She also considered that his talk was bravado. That, if she decided to take the lead, he'd roll over and let her.

She left the car; the clunk of the car door echoing around the empty car park. She pulled down her black latex/leather skirt which barely covered her perfect bubble ass. Her legs were bare (a mistake usually in this drizzly weather but a must today with a Horny BBC to impress!) Her ankle boots click-clacked loudly on the concrete floor. Her massive tits caused the material of her top (a powder blue coloured t shirt with fine mesh lace of the same colour forming a 'V' at the front showing the world her perfectly magnificent cleavage) to strain dangerously.

She found the lift. This was a shopping centre built in the 70s. It had been given cosmetic makeovers through the years but it still possessed the dank and threatening feel of so many underground car parks with dim lighting and a faint smell of urine.

She pushed the button to call the lift but it gave no indication that it recognised that it had been summoned. She waited and was about to leave to find an alternative route when the door slowly opened, accompanied by a worrying screech. She walked in and the smell of urine increased to an alarming and unpleasant degree. She wrinkled her nose and thought of the type of person who would get into a lift and urinate. Then she wondered if the man she was about to meet was that type. She hoped not, of course, but she had no way of knowing. Her initial excitement was starting to turn to genuine fear but she gathered herself, pushed the 'G' button and watched as the door slowly, screeching loudly, closed. She felt the familiar movement and watched the numbers change above the door. After a while (too long, she felt) 'G' appeared in the digital window above the door and it squealed itself aside. She had to wait for it to fully open before she could leave the piss-stained lift and then out she strutted, pushing her tits out, throwing back her blonde mane of hair and showing the world that she was a sexy woman and proud of the fact.

She stayed in the precinct as long as possible to protect her carefully constructed, bouncy hair tresses. At the end of the long row of shops, she saw doors and knew that a short walk across the courtyard followed by a couple of right turns and she'd arrive.

Inside Starbucks the clientele were predictable coffee drinkers. Mostly OAPs who were out shopping for the morning and were rewarding themselves with a coffee and a cake. Her body obsession meant that coffee was the limit of her treats. But, not wanting to have coffee breath (even though today was just a 'meet' she kept telling herself) she decided to order a green tea.

The steaming hot drink was delivered and she found the stairs to the downstairs section. Though she was doing nothing wrong by using the downstairs area, she felt the Barista staring (he probably wasn't, but this was guilt on her part due to the meeting she was about to engage in.)

Downstairs had the faint whiff of damp but, as she'd predicted, no one had found their way down here. The toilets were located in one corner so she chose the opposing corner so that anyone coming to use the facilities would be hard-pressed to see her.

She removed her leather jacket and sat.

After a moment she withdrew the tea bag from the cup and placed it on the saucer. She stared at the pale, green liquid (though it was hard to see any colour so bad was the lighting down in her chosen corner.)

She was acquainting herself with her surroundings; becoming aware of the sounds. She could hear clatter from upstairs as the staff emptied a dishwasher, noisily refilling the cup holders ready for the next customer. After a moment, she heard the door and wondered if this was him. She looked at her watch.

12:01pm.

'Punctual', she thought.

She waited and listened. Cups were being moved and milk was being heated in the steel jugs.

A couple of minutes later, she decided that he hadn't arrived. Determined not to break cover or lose her seat, she waited. She began checking her phone to see if he'd emailed to call it off. Nothing.

She looked at her watch again. It was almost 12.15pm. This was annoying. She had almost drained her cup fully and was deciding that she'd be leaving when she again heard the door. The way that the door had opened and the way that it slammed shut told her that this was him. She heard the sound of small, hard plastic wheels on the tiles above her as though someone were pushing a trolley. Again, she heard the coffee machine and cups whirring into life. She heard the till 'ping' open and money deposited.