Miracle on Slutty 4th Street Ch. 10

Their affair started that night. They were wise enough no to give off any signs of what had happened. He was the boss of their office, and she was one of the office managers, handling customer files and phone calls, so they didn't have to interact together that often. That one night was an anomaly in them working together, but it was all she needed. He was nervous around her at first, and he never made another move, clearly feeling guilty about cheating on his wife with her. It was a while before anything else happened. And it was only when she went along with him to meet a client across the country, and they were at the same hotel that something happened again. They'd never talked once about what had happened, and he was still nervous around her, keeping their chatting to a minimum this whole trip. He did his best to explain that what happened was a mistake and could never happen again.

They had sex again a couple hours later.

They did it multiple times that night, spending the night together in his hotel room. And after that point, his guilt started to fade. They started hooking up more after this, doing it after work, and sometimes, even during work, having her bent over his desk and drilling her from behind, his hands clutching her giant black tits and his driving hips making her full, juicy ass jiggle. They kept doing it, more and more, sneaking off for private time more and more. She took great joy at stealing his attention from his pretty white wife, and she knew that she was well on her way to stealing him away completely.

Like today. It was Christmas day, and she got him to leave his family for a few hours, under the guise of having an international call to make. Instead, he went across town to her house. To her bed. Ready for more. Ready to indulge his new addiction.

Max watched these two, poised for action on the bed, ready to just do it. He stared into the void of lust and sin, and as he watched the black woman lean forward and smoothly taking his thick white cock into her mouth all the way up to the root, her thick lips wrapped around the base... the void stared back. With him looking at the action unfolding in front of him through the window, her eyes went straight to the window, straight to Max, looking right at him as he watched her. And how did she react?

She gave him a little wave.

Her long-nailed fingers twinkled up and down as she waved at the young man watching, clearly unbothered by this intrusion. Then, she got to work, attacking the man's dick with her mouth, her long braids and huge breasts swaying as she did so.

Holy shit!

He'd been caught! He'd stared into the waters of pure sin and lust, and it had simply waved him forward, welcoming him in, telling him the water was fine and he should dive in head first. No. No! He couldn't.

Being caught made it feel so much more real. In a way, the small separation of the window was enough to make it feel like it was not real, that he was watching something that wasn't there. Like watching the TV. But this time, the TV waved back. The TV greeted him, breaking the fourth wall, acknowledging his presence.

Watching was one thing but being caught was something else entirely. Even though he wasn't in trouble, he began to panic, moving at double time to the next house. His blood was pumping and he was painfully erect. From all that he had seen, he couldn't be blamed, but it sent him into a turmoil. He felt strongly in his beliefs, he did, but he was so horny right now. He knew that if Lizzy was next to him right then, he wouldn't be able to resist losing his virginity to her, the promise of waiting till marriage brushed aside. He had never been this horny, and after all that he'd seen, all that wickedness... it simply made him want it more.

All those people seemed to be having the time of their lives. Embracing the waters of sin and lust, drowning in it. For so long, that world had been separate from him, something he was fine with, but seeing all this sex made him think again. Was... was he afraid of sex? No. He wanted to have sex. He did. He just didn't want to waste it with someone he didn't know or care about. He wanted it to mean something. To be definitive. But there was another question. Was he afraid of what sex would turn him into? Did he trust himself to have sex and not enjoy it too much? Was he afraid he couldn't resist becoming a lust-crazed animal? Was that why he was afraid of dipping his toe in those broiling waters, because he wouldn't be able to resist diving in completely. He couldn't say for sure.

But it didn't matter. He had Lizzy. He was happy with her. Maybe something could happen when they saw each other again, but he wasn't about to make a huge mistake with someone else. He just wasn't thinking clearly. His mind was addled by the gallon of cum currently holstered in his bloated nuts, ready to fire. He would just finish his route, head back to grandma's house, sneak up to the bathroom, drain his nuts, and finally start thinking a bit clearly again. After that, he would just try to forget all the incredible sights that had been burned into his memory and proceed on with his life as scheduled. Refocus on Lizzy, and not all the temptations out there trying to lure him into sin. This was a weak moment, and it was in these moments where the strength of his vows needed to shine brightest.

Max marched through the falling snow, head down, laser focused on the job at hand and nothing else. He hummed to himself or sung lightly, trying to drown out any noises he heard from the houses as he got closer. Sometimes there were moans, causing him to hum louder. Sometimes, the house was quiet, and the windows were drawn, but the silence was almost worse, as his mind was coming up with all sorts of things that could be going on that were so much more wicked than whatever he could hear and see. But he did his best not to listen and not look at anything other than what was absolutely necessary for the job he was working on. It required an incredible level of focus to drown out all distractions, but somehow, someway, he got through most of the rest of the neighborhood without incident.

He was finally able to start breathing a little easier when he arrived on Fourth Street. He'd worked out his path through the neighborhood just right so he could finish up right here with his grandma's house being the last one on his sojourn. It was here that he'd hand out the last few gifts left in his bag, and he knew what to expect from these remaining houses, so he figured the worst was behind him. Plus, these houses were all older, so they didn't have the same easy view into the houses here as he did at the other homes. Standing at the end of the street, he paused a bit before continuing.

He crisscrossed the street in order to hit all the houses, so he wouldn't have to backtrack. He hung up gifts on the old guy Bruce's door, despite knowing that he was a bit of a grinch. He hung up a gift on Dr. Wen's door, then the Morris's. He hung a gift on the door of that young couple the Allens, then he hit the Burkhouse's and the Calvorson's.

At last, approaching the final house on his route, he began to breathe easier. Sure, his nerves were still alight, and he could feel that throbbing coming from his groin, but shielding himself from all that stimuli allowed him to cool down somewhat. He felt like this long strange day was finally, blessedly done, and he looked back at his grandma's house, knowing he was so close to some peace and quiet. Gift bag in hand, he approached the door, ready to hang it there and head home. Reaching out calmly to hang up the gift, he jumped as the door he was reaching out towards suddenly opened in front of him. Looking up, he watched as a figure emerged from inside, and as he looked at her, his eyes went wide.

"Well, well, well..." Janet Winston purred with a wicked grin, looking at the young man on her doorstep. "I guess Christmas wishes do come true..."

She stood in front of him in the open doorway, smirking, but what was shocking at first was how she was dressed. She was clad in a thin, silky black robe which went down to her thighs, and it was not tied up in the front, meaning it was wide open. And she was not wearing much beneath it. With her robe parted, she was giving him a view of her body in a lace black lingerie set, a lacy, thin black bra and some shockingly small panties. Now, keep in mind, this was an old lady, a woman who was a lot closer to being a peer to his grandmother than his mother. Every time he ever saw her, he viewed her as an old lady. An old crone who seemed to have fallen victim to the telltale signs of the aging process, namely wrinkles and sagging and greying hair and weight gain. A woman who had lost a step. Whose best years were behind her. And now, here she was, greeting Max in her doorway, standing in her thin, open robe and expensive looking lingerie, giving the young man a view of her exposed body. This should be a gross, disrespectful, disgusting act, an egregious violation of both his personal space and the spirit of Christmas. It should be, except for one little thing:

Janet had the hottest body he'd ever seen.

That wasn't an exaggeration. She had the hottest body he'd ever laid on eyes on, without a doubt. This... this wasn't the woman he knew. He barely recognized her. She was supposed to be an old lady with an aging form. But this... this was someone else, right?

Standing like this, wearing so little, she was showcasing her luscious form to him. Her long, firm legs, completely bare and mouthwateringly smooth and taut. Above that was the small black triangle of lace covering her nether-regions, scooped low to show as much skin as possible. Tiny straps held it to her mature form, riding over her hips and disappearing behind her back. Above the material of her tiny underwear was her flat, taut belly, shockingly fit and sexy despite her age. For a moment, her navel stole his gaze. But his eyes couldn't stay there for long, as her boobs drew his eyes upwards.

They were the size of watermelons.

No joke. Janet's boobs were the size of watermelons, literally. And they were just as firm and ripe, vaulting off her chest, gigantic yet shocking perky at the same time. There was no sag whatsoever. Her slim, fit frame made them appear even bigger. The thin, lacy bra was struggling to contain such massive blimps, straining to keep them in place, the straps digging into her shoulders. Her breasts were packed into the lacy garment, the smooth flesh pouring over the edges ever so slightly. And they pressed into each other as well, giving her a mile of deep, succulent cleavage. And on top of all that, the black lace bra was also partially see-through, allowing an onlooker to see a hint of her round, pink areolas as the hard nubs of her nipples stood out very clearly beneath the thin garment.

Max had never seen bigger boobs in his life. They looked massive, and round, and smooth. With each little shift she made the luscious flesh ripple and jiggle. Damn... they were so big. And firm! How could such massive udders be so firm? It was just... wow. For a few moments, he couldn't look away.

He finally looked up at her smirking face, clearly unbothered by his stare. He could have sworn she had looked older the last time he had seen her, but not now. Those wrinkles were practically gone, same with the crow's feet and the grey in her hair. Her sharp eyes looked youthful and lively, and her lips looked full, plump, and smooth. She looked gorgeous, but a sort of wicked, confident type of beauty that could make a man shiver. And on top of all this, her skin was glowing with a smooth, even tan. It made her body feel like it was emanating with heat, cascading off of her, only adding to the already heated view she was providing him.

How could this be? She looked younger now than he'd ever seen her. Younger than she'd looked when he first met her when he was a kid. And he could have sworn he saw her, like, a day or two prior and she didn't look this. She looked amazing, like a woman 20 years younger than her age, if not more. She didn't look like an old lady any more.

She looked like a total and complete MILF.

If there was any hope that his nerves and tension had left him, he was wrong. His once softening erection had reversed course, turning as hard as steel in his pants. Janet Winston, the neighborhood spinster, had him painfully erect, and he was again awash with nervousness.

"What brings you out here on a morning like this?" she asked confidently, stepping out. Despite being barely clothed and barefoot, she took one step out onto the porch, into the cold. "Oh!" she said, glancing down towards his mid-section, and in a flash, he wondered if she had seen his erection. "Oh I see..." she began, increasing his worry. "This is that silly little Church thing with the gifts!" she said, and for a moment, he was temporarily relieved that she hadn't seemed to notice his predicament. "You're being a little Santa Claus, right?" she said smiling. "Although, you certainly aren't little, are you, Max? You're a man now. I can tell!" She raised her eyebrows and glanced downwards again.

Okay, she had noticed his straining bulge, and that knowledge only made him harder. What was wrong with him?

"Oh, I, uh... here," he stammered, reaching out to hand her the goodie bag. She glanced down at it lazily but made no move to grab it, one arm on the doorknob and the other against the door frame. The silky black robe hung loosely from her shoulders as she made no effort to close it, continuing to present her lingerie clad form to the young man, the grandson of her neighbor.

He knew Janet a little bit, as she'd always been around whenever he'd visit his grandmother. She'd always seemed friendly enough, but it was obvious from the stories his grandmother would tell that she did not like Janet in the slightest. So, Max never really dealt with her much beyond the occasional greeting and listening in as his folks talked to her. And now he was facing her down, one-on-one, the last house on his trek, and he didn't know what to do.

"Are you okay?" she asked with a knowing glint in her eyes, smiling slightly. "You seem... distracted..." He glanced nervously at her tanned, jiggling, bra-clad breasts, his eyes falling into her cleavage and staying there. Trying to ignore his cock throbbing in his pants he spoke up.

"I'm fine..." he croaked out, eyes glued to her chest. What was he doing? This was old Mrs. Winston! Even though the sights he was seeing were shocking, he knew that she was, like... an old lady. Sure, she looked good now... she looked amazing now, like, so hot... but he knew she was a hell of lot closer in age to his grandmother than his mom. Ignoring the incredible view of her body she was presenting him, he tried to keep that fact in mind. He didn't know what she had done, if she had surgery, or some new age healing process that made her look like this, but he tried to keep focused. He tried to ignore her eye-popping body and her succulent, mouthwatering cleavage. God, he could drown in there...

"You sure?" she asked, looking at the top of his head as he was so obviously staring at her chest. "You don't look fine. Well, you DO look fine, but you seem like your struggling with something..."

Finally, he pulled his eyes from her bra-clad boobs, embarrassed by his lack of control. She smiled at him victoriously, knowing she had him on the hook.

"I'm fine," he repeated. "Here," he said again, trying to hand over his gift again. But once more, she made no move to take it.

"I know what's happening here," Janet announced knowingly. "Your grandmother mentioned how you have a girlfriend. It must be so HARD being away from her for so long! You must be tied up in knots so bad you just want to BURST!" As she punctuated these words, a throb coursed through his erect pillar. Looking at her in the eyes, it was clear that she knew exactly what was going on with him. At this, he gulped.

"Um... here," he said nervously, pushing the gift towards her. He wanted to get away right now. Why was she dressed like this? Why was she toying with him? Why couldn't he just get some peace and quiet? Why did he, of all people, have to see all the things he'd seen this morning?

"You know..." she began, again making no move to grab the gift from him. "You hear all these stories about how younger men these days go so crazy over older women. And I have to wonder if you came over here for something else..." she teased, raising her eyebrows and jutting out her chest. His eyes drifted down to her big breasts again, straining to escape, the soft, succulent flesh oozing over the edges of her bra. The way they jiggled... it was hypnotic.

"I... no!" he began, shaking his head. "I've done this job for years. I'm... just trying to help out on Christmas. Nothing more," he tried to say firmly. Again, she regarded him with amusement.

"Oh, honey," she said, almost pitying him, as if she knew how in over his head he was. Poor thing. It was obvious how on edge he was. How badly he was gagging for it. He was a young man. Of course, he was rock hard. And, of course, he was hard for her. She was a babe. "You don't have to be ashamed of it. I know how it is for young guys like you, especially around a woman like me..."

At this, she stepped back slightly and gave him a little spin to show off, causing her thin silk robe to flow outward, revealing her thong-clad ass to the young man. You heard right. Old Ms. Winston was wearing a thong. And even though it was a flash, the image burned itself into his mind.

He couldn't lie. Her ass looked simply incredible. Two round, firm, meaty cheeks, full and juicy and perfect, with a deep crevasse between them. No sag, no cellulite, just premium, firm ass-flesh. The bands of her tiny thong rode along her hips before meeting at the top of her ass-crack in a pronounced triangle of material. The band then traversed between the cleft of the firm cheeks before wrapping back around towards her crotch. Her ass stood out from her slim body, begging to be touched. Slapped. Spanked. How was this possible? How could a woman her age have an ass that immaculate? How could a woman her age look so young and have a body this perfect? What was happening here? The flowing robe fell back in place again as she spun to face him again, her weighty boobs jiggling perfectly as she came to a stop.

"So, go ahead and look. It's what you came over here for..." she teased. Her body was having an effect on him, as his cock was straining to be free from his pants. He was dying with need, and her exposed mature flesh was not helping. He knew she was much older than him, but she sure didn't look it. And his cock did not care in the slightest. It saw titties and ass, and that's all it wanted. It didn't matter that she was an older woman. Her body was perfect, and that was all it took to make him very excited. Her words had Max shaking his head, feeling even more upset as he simply held out the gift again.

"Please..." he said firmly, asking her to take it from him. Again, she smirked, an act that was really beginning to make him mad.

"Max, you've grown up to be so young and fit and handsome. You deserve to loosen up a bit and have a good time, honey. You deserve a little bit of fun, especially..." she began.

"Stop!" he called out firmly, surprising her. All the anger and tension and nerves were finally boiling over. He'd had enough. He was tired of it. "Can you please just take the damn gift? Because all day, I've been going to house after house in the bitter cold and I swear every house I went to, I looked in and saw people just... fucking! I've seen so much shit today... I just wanna go home, okay? I wanna go home and warm up and talk to my girlfriend. So please, Ms. Winston... just take the damn gift!"