MILFception

"Thanks for coming over, Johnny. Do you want a Coke or anything?"

The house was exactly as I remembered it, right down to the smell of the potpourri, and the rustling of the new carpet. I recognized Ms. Carter's dress as one she actually wore, the furniture was right, the magnets scattered on the fridge, even the dishes were the right department store print that my family wouldn't have been able to afford. Her appearance also fit my memory. Tall and curvy, long, thick, black, wavy hair with streaks of grey, light olive skin, and a faint smell of vanilla. One thing that seemed new was just how attractive I found her. I didn't really pay much attention to her back when I was a teen, but reliving the memory now that I was her age, she was a knockout.

"I'm okay, but thank you," I replied after a delay to take everything in.

She sat down across the marble kitchen island from me and held her Diet Coke with both hands. "I don't want to be having this conversation."

On a wave of shame and dread, I suddenly remembered this exact moment from my past. I lowered my gaze to break eye contact. By happenstance I looked directly at a folded newspaper. The headline read, "JOHN! SOMETHING IS WRONG!" Below, text trailed on, "We can't disconnect you. Working on a fix. You should be safe, but..."

"Johnny, this is really important, are you here?"

"Uh. Sorry. It's just," I pointed back at the paper, and the headline addressed to me had been replaced with one about George Bush vomiting on a Japanese politician.

"Oh, I know. What a goober." She took a sip of her Diet Coke, leaving a lipstick smear on the rim. "I want to talk to you about our daughter."

"Yeah, I know."

"With your birthday last week, my husband and I don't think it's appropriate for you two to spend time together right now." Even now at 45, reliving this moment from right after I turned 18 hit me like a brick to the gut. I remembered leaving and feeling like I was dirty or inherently a bad person after. Her daughter and had never even done anything, but the shame of that moment lingered in me for a long time.

I lowered my gaze again, and said, "I see."

"I'm really sorry, Johnny." In my memory, that's where the conversation ended. I sullenly left, and after a couple years, found a girlfriend my age and forgot. In the simulation though, she continued, "But so long as you stay away from her, I'm prepared to blow you once a week."

"Wait what?"

She smoothed the lipstick at the corner of her mouth with a fingertip, and said, "Just don't tell my husband."

The cognitive processing device we were working on was meant to be a tool for exposure therapy. It worked from brain scans to find traumatic events, and recreated similar circumstances with positive outcomes using a full sensory override. Basically, it beamed created experiences straight into your brain. You would experience them and interact with them in real time, just as if they were real events. In practice it was meant to highlight with simulated experiences how heavy events can distort perceptions even long after the events end, and to be used as tool in therapy to challenge those distortions after. I wrote code for the device's UI, and didn't fully understand what it did, or it's intended usage, just the boilerplate, "this is what we want it to do," and my small piece of that. At present (and in the present) we were at the, "will this thing even do anything?" stage of its development. I hadn't had an awfully traumatic past, so I was picked to relive a past memory just to test out the sensory override. They hooked me up to it, and shortly after my high school girlfriend's house dropped around me, and now the simulation had gone astray.

Panic flittered in my chest a little. What had gone wrong? Was the device scrambling my brain? Would I be a vegetable when they finally got me out? I silently damned that I hadn't been able to read the entire article warning me of what was happening. It said I was safe, BUT. But what? Maybe they could get another message to me later?

Ms. Carter stood up on the other side of the island, and said, "Don't just sit there blinking, get it out for me hon," while she walked around to my side.

A confused stare was the best I could manage. "What?" `

She stood next to my stool, set down her Coke, and swiveled my stool to face her with a hand on my knee. "Don't worry sweetie." Her hands moved to my belt, "I'll get it for you."

The panic in my chest was replaced with a different feeling entirely. I stared into her face, but she was looking down at her hands working my belt and zipper. I felt her hands work into my boxers, and then the cold air of the kitchen on my dick.

She looked back into my eyes and with a wicked smile said, "my work is cut out here, huh?"

I looked down, and it seemed the situation wasn't the only place the simulation had gone awry. I was averagely endowed in real life. Around 5 inches, and a decent thickness, but the dick she had found in my pants was at least twice the size in every way. She lowered to her knees keeping one hand on the counter and the other on the massive cock that was apparently mine and started slowly stroking it to hard.

"My God," she muttered, "it's beautiful." She looked up at me like a kid looking at an Easter basket. With glee in her voice she said, "thank you for understanding about our daughter," and took me in her mouth.

At that point in my life, I had kissed a couple girls, but that was the furthest I had ever gone. Chronologically though, I was 45, and compared to my past experiences, I never would have known it was a simulation. For the first several minutes my brain searched every stimulus for how it was not actually happening and came up empty. Eventually I gave up on trying to think of it as faked somehow, and just enjoyed it. She didn't take it very deep, but worked her tongue on the underside constantly, and pumped the shaft with her hand. I didn't know how long I would be stuck in the simulation, but as I neared orgasm, I hoped it was more than a week and she kept her word.

Just as I hit the edge, the cordless phone on the island rang. Ms. Carter reached up, picked it up, and clicked the green button with fingertip. She took my cock out of her mouth just long enough to say, "Hello?" She slowed her pace significantly, basically just stroking the length with the head in her mouth. It was enough that my orgasm backed off a little, but it was still right there. She took my dick out of her mouth again to say, "Yes, baby. Talking to Johnny went just fine," and put it right back in. She groaned something like an affirmative sound, then pulled back a little and said, "no, I told him to leave her alone, he understood and was fine with it," with the head of my cock still touching her lips. A steady flow of precum leaked out into her mouth as she talked. "Baby? When you get home, do you think we could mess around? My panties are completely soaked right now." My cock went back in her mouth then she worked her grip and sucked hard to get more precum out. "Please baby. I'm throbbing. I can't get myself off enough. I need a real dick." When she said the word, "dick," she slapped mine gently against her face. "I need it so bad, baby. Please." She sucked gently at my head a little more, and shifting her voice to pleading said, "Please, baby. We can do everything you like. I just need it." She kissed my dick gently as she kept stroking as she starting begging, "I'll shave my pussy bald right now, wear that teddy you like, whatever you want I just need it. You can cum on my tits, or my face. We can go to the strip club. Even anal, baby. I'll get cleaned up and you can fuck my ass, all night." After a pause, she added another, "Please baby?" The phone beeped once signaling that the line had disconnected, and she sighed heavily.

Setting the phone back on the island, she made eye contact with me again and said, "He's pathetic," then took my dick deep in her mouth until she gagged. One of her hands moved to the hem of her dress and worked under the fabric. The other clamped around the base of my cock as she repeatedly tried to swallow it whole, but only succeeded in getting about half of it in. "I am going to get this down." After a couple dozen tries the hand under her dress came up and grabbed at my wrist, smearing wetness all over it. She put my hand on the back of her head and pushed, then both her hands went back to her pussy.

I put my other hand on the back of her head and started pushing her face down on my cock. At first I kept pressure down until she gagged, then let up long enough for her to catch her breath, then back down. Eventually though I was fucking her face at a slow steady pace. Not all the way down, but still deeper than she was getting it before. An orgasm started to build in me again and like last time, just as I reached a good edge we were interrupted.

It was a knock at the door this time, three quick raps. Ms. Carter pulled her face off my dick and looked toward the front door then back to me. "Crap. It's Ginny." She stood up, and quickly wiped her hands and face off on a tea towel, then draped it over my erection, barely concealing it. "I'll get rid of her." I thought about putting my dick back in my pants, but I didn't really think it would fit at full mast.

Ms. Carter answered the door, and said, "Ginny, hi, it's not the best..." but the guest pushed her way in anyway.

"You are not going to believe this, Ronda. I was at the porn shop and..." Ginny's sentence trailed off when she saw me sitting behind the island. "Oh, I didn't know you had someone over."

I waved and smiled halfheartedly, "Hi, Ms. Reed."

At that time, I worked in our town's only video store. It was connected to a convenience store big enough to have a produce department, but still smaller than the actual grocery store. I probably knew almost everyone in town from that job, and as a result, Virginia Reed was no stranger (as well as her husband and son), but I barely knew her except for her taste in video rentals (rom-com, and women led action movies). She was petite, and a natural redhead with a chin length bob cut. Like Ms. Carter she was generally around 40, and she worked at the gym as an aerobics instructor. Today she looked like she had come straight from there. She was wearing spandex shorts that came to her navel, a pair of nylon jogging shorts over them, and a tank top. In short, she was a total fox.

"Hi Johnny." She waved back and looked questioningly at Ms. Carter.

"Rebecca's boyfriend. I was just explaining to him that he's too old for her now that he's legally an adult." Ginny shot an eyebrow up at me. Ms. Carter walked past her and toward me, adding, "I'm just going to grab your book so I can finish our conversation."

She went to a drawer behind me and Ginny followed her into the kitchen, and said, "You know Rhonda, it's okay. If you're busy I can come back tomorrow." She stopped at the corner of the island and leaned against it, looking over at me with a coy grin, mouthing, "Happy birthday."

"Oh nonsense, it's right here, just a sec to find it."

Ms. Reed's eyes had drifted to the tea towel in my lap and bugged out of her head. She made quick eye contact with me, looked back at the tea towel, then reached out and pulled at a corner of it. My dick was still rock hard the point it was throbbing and a little sore. As the towel fell to the floor, she took a sharp breath and said, "Oh... oh wow." I was too embarrassed to even think of hiding it. With the lipstick smeared down most of its length and precum dripping off it, it had to be apparent to her what she had interrupted. Slack jawed, she reached out and caught a drip of precum on her fingertip.

Ms. Carter turned back around with the book in her outstretched hand, and saw her friend staring directly at her afternoon project. "Oh." She turned deep red, and stammered, "I'm just doing what I need to do to keep that thing away from my daughter."

Through an angled smile Ginny asked nobody specifically, "what do I have to do to keep it away from my daughter?" She put her wet fingertip into her mouth and sucked it clean.

"You don't have a daughter."

Ms. Reed and Ms. Carter just stared at each other blankly for a second. "Maybe I can keep it away from your daughter sometime." She took the book. "Like community service." She turned away while digging in her handbag, produced a business card and slid it toward me on the counter. I stared at her manicured nails and massive wedding ring as she gave me the card. She turned and walked away, when she got to the door she said plainly, "have fun you two," before leaving.

"I am so sorry, sweety." Ms. Carter picked up the business card and tucked it in my pants pocket. "Make sure you call her, so she can make up for that embarrassment, okay?"

I didn't know what to say. The whole simulation had escalated in a way I wasn't prepared for, and I just stammered out, "I will."

"I don't think I can suck cock for another minute today, hun," I glanced at the digital clock on the stove, and realized she had been at it more than an hour at that point. She was lowering the shoulders of her dress, "Is a titfuck going to be okay for the rest?"

Still stunned, I said, "Uhm, yeah," as she grabbed a bottle of olive oil and let her dress fall around her feet.

She was fucking beautiful. And not like qualified beautiful. She was in her mod 40's, but even standing next to a younger woman, she would have been the one I was looking at. Her bra and panties were matching black satin, her skin an even shade of light olive and was completely flawless. I swallowed hard and chalked it up to the simulation airbrushing my memory of her like a model on a magazine cover. She dropped her bra, and her breasts were the same kind of impossibly perfect. I honestly was never that interested in big breasts, preferring smaller chested women, but hers were amazing. She poured some of the oil into her cleavage, and said, "Hop up on the counter, sweety." I sat on the counter, and she stripped my pants and underwear to my ankles in one go. While she guided my dick into her cleavage, I kicked off my shoes and let my pants fall to the floor. She set to a slow pace, and I groaned. "Next time we won't be interrupted, and I can get you off with my mouth. Just that took too long, and my jaw is sore. I hope this is okay for you."

"Yeah, it's amazing." I stripped my shirt off too and laid all the way down on the counter while she worked my cock up and down with her tits.

"My pussy is so lonely, Johnny. It wants you in it so bad, but just can't. I want you to fuck me stupid with your monster fucking cock. Pump my cunt full of your young cum." She started to pump my cock faster. "It's dying for attention. I'm the only one that fucks it anymore. I want it so bad but my conscience, sweety. Fucking you, letting cum deep in my pussy, would just make me feel awful. Just a cheater. A filthy fucking slut. A slut going mad for giant young cock."

She sped up again and I don't think she could have gone faster. My cock was throbbing, but in that overstimulated way that I knew meant orgasm was going to be elusive. "A filthy fucking slutty hole for you to use. For you to cum in and go home." She kept spewing dirty talk, degrading herself more and more. "I'm a filthy fucking slut for you. I only exist to make this beautiful cock happy. I need this dick so bad. Everything is this dick. It's all I want. All I need."

I sat up enough to look at the clock again, she had been titfucking me for about 30 minutes. I looked her and said, "Are you sure you don't want to fuck."

Her face went blank and she stopped. Mostly deadpan, she said, "can we?"

"Sure."

"You would fuck a woman twice your age?"

I didn't have the available brainpower to explain the actuality of the situation, and just said, "You? Of course."

Her panties were flung across the kitchen so fast I didn't even clock her taking them off. "Come on," she leaned over the sink, pointing her sizable ass at me, "Before I guilt trip myself out of this."

The thought of a condom crossed my mind, but I remembered pretty quick this was a simulation, and one probably wasn't necessary. I got behind her and guided my dick toward her pussy. She gasped when the head pushed in and squealed when the shaft got about halfway. She felt impossibly tight to me. Groaning, she leaned back into me, one of her hands grasping the back of my head. My face by her ear, she growled, "Destroy my slutty fucking cunt, hun."

I did as she asked.

I bottomed out about two thirds of the way in, and she grunted when I did. I pulled back for another thrust, and she whimpered. "Does it hurt? Are you okay?"

She noticeably panicked a little. "Don't you dare stop." I thrust again and she squealed. "It hurts a little, but I love it." Another trust. "Break my fucking cunt." Another, "ah." Another, "fuck."

I picked up the pace and she kept up making involuntary exclamations with every thrust. I slowed down again and asked, "You're sure you like this?"

"Babe," she looked back over her shoulder at me, hair stuck to her face, and eye makeup streaked with tears. "I have a dildo even bigger. Now stop holding back."

"If you say."

I let her have it. After a couple of minutes of completely pounding her from behind I was getting much more of my length in her until eventually I was getting all of it in. At some point her exclamations stopped and she just groaned and bucked against me constantly while I fucked her. Her knees gave out, and she clung to the sink to stay upright. Breath caught in her throat, and she gasped, her whole body heaving. Her pussy clenched against me, and through clenched teeth and short on breath she muttered, "fuck... fuck... fuck..." over and over until it turned into a scream. After a moment she caught her breath enough to say, "Oh fuck, fuck, fucking thank you." Still trembling, she looked back at me again and said, "Fill me up babe, dump all your cum in me. I need your cum. My slut cunt needs it."

It didn't take much more than that. In no time I was pumping what felt like an endless amount of semen into her as my brain swam in release. I fell backward leaning against the island, and her legs gave out completely, sliding to the floor.

Looking up at me, she laughed. She was beaming, and I imagined I was too. "Jesus," she gestured to the growing puddle of semen leaking from her crotch, "look at all that." She laughed again. "Is once a week enough?" Her face was suddenly concerned, she looked up at me, but wound up staring at my cock again. She leaned forward and caught the last drips of semen from it in her mouth, trailing it back to a quick kiss on the tip. Her hand worked the shaft for a few more drops, and semen still on her lips said, "Okay. Twice a week. Come back on Thursday."

Still half stunned I said, "sure." I immediately doubted I would still be stuck in the simulation on Thursday, but who knew.

After another kiss on the tip of my cock, she said, "You," she pointed at me then the door, "go. I have to clean this up before anyone gets home."

"Okay." I started looking around, collecting my clothes, piece by piece.

She was mopping up the semen puddle with her dress while I put my shoes on. "Oh, and make sure you call Ginny. I'll tell her you deserve a big apology." She winked and made the pantomime for a blowjob, tongue in her cheek. "If you know what I mean."

"I'll call her." Hand on the door I said, "See you Thursday."

"Bye Johnny." Still beaming, she waved goodbye with her panties in her hand.

It was just getting dark outside, and when the door closed behind me it dawned on me that I had no idea what was going on with the simulation, or what I should be doing, and the low panic returned to my chest.