Suburban Milf's Transformation

Okay so because I am asked constantly, yes, what I am about to share is true. It really happened only the names are changed. I'll go by Brittany.

For years I was what most people would consider the stereotypical, conservative, career mom. My husband was a professional, my son did well in school. I have a semi-public career in education. It was perfect; right up until it wasn't. Right up until the divorce. Maybe it was a mid-life crisis, maybe it was just that he is a male, but in cringeworthy conventional manner, he fell for a younger woman. Suddenly I was alone at 37.

I don't know why I did it. It was certainly a reaction. I don't like to admit that maybe I was changing myself to look more like "her" but whatever the reason I decided that a complete makeover would make everything right. I changed my hair color. Being of half Italian heritage, I went from light brunette to stark blonde. I changed the style to something fuller and let it grow longer. And I visited a plastic surgeon. Without going into too many details I had decided to go... big. I could blame the surgeon a little for the magnitude, but ultimately the decision was mine. Oh sure, he did mention that with the slight weight gain since my son -- I am 116 -- and even being short -- I'm 5-3 -- I could carry off going quite big, that is going from a small c cup to a DD/E was something I didn't oppose. It was only after I had undergone the whole transformation and returned to work and saw the reaction of both men -- think very long psychologically undressing stares -- and women -- judgment and catty smirks -- that I realized the mistake I had made. By then, though, it was already done.

In a matter of weeks, I went from the sort of drunken headiness of reshaping my looks to being self-conscious that I looked like "Maybe she's contemplating a career change that involves dancing on a pole or popping out of a cake" as one secretary said when she didn't know I could hear. Suddenly, I was actually trying to downplay my "makeover" by buying suppressing and minimizing blouses and bras.

At the same time I was also starting back into the world of online dating. I spent a lot of time swiping right and left and found to my surprise that in the 14 years since I got married, how people interacted romantically had changed a lot. For the longest time I was hesitant. I chatted with a few men. I met a couple, but for the most part I found that I was being extremely safe in terms of challenging romance and the feelings I had were very fairly neutral and placid. Then I met Rod.

It was his expression in his online picture that did it. It had a look of, I don't know, mischievousness, I guess that piqued my interest. I sent him a message and to my surprise and delight, less than 5 minutes later, he replied or so I thought. When I looked at it though I realized that it wasn't a response. He had simultaneously, electively reached out to me too. It was immediately flattered, delighted, and hooked. I mean, I thought it just had to be more than a coincidence, right. So we started to chat and even through the impersonal mechanism of a screen, something very intriguing happened. I became, despite my denial, instantly infatuated.

Within days we were talking on the phone, and by the end of the week, we had a real date. It was amazing. He was exactly as I had hoped, charming, attractive, funny, imaginative, and just obvious enough as he couldn't stop sneaking glances at my chest that I felt a red hot arousal that I had forgotten as even possible. Still, to his credit, when we did kiss, despite a very obvious erection he didn't try anything more. I'll confess I was a little disappointed, but to his greater credit -- as I would soon learn -- he was playing a longer game.

Another date and a week later, I was at home watching a football game. I am a huge fan of UGA. I mean why shouldn't I be? It is my alma mater. The Dawgs were winning, of course, Rod and I were talking on the phone when he made a suggestion that ultimately would change everything. He suggested a bet on the outcome. I lost I would do exactly what he said, and if he lost he would do exactly what I said. I never in my wildest dreams thought it would be anything more than loser cooks dinner, or maybe one of us would get naked in front of the other, something as benign as that.

I was so wrong.

The end came and we lost and with a chuckle he said, "Okay time to pay up."

I looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight.

"Now?" I said.

"Mmm hmmm," he crooned.

I sighed. "Okay what do you want me to do?" In a kind of concerned way I felt like some suggestive selfie might be in my future. I readied myself to protest.

That's when he dropped the bomb on me.

"Okay, here's what you have to do. Meet me out on front of your house in 30 minutes, wearing"--he paused for effect--"just a sweatsuit, running shoes, and socks. That's it."

So I am going to have to flash him or something, I thought. I was okay with that.

Still, I protested a little. I sputtered and argued. I mean, really, outside? It wasn't completely without some risk of embarrassment.

He laughed at my futile response and in a simultaneously unnerving and irresistible way, just said, "do it, Brittany." Then he hung up.

I'll confess, getting naked -- I mean I guess I should describe what I saw in the mirror- all 5-3 116 of me, blonde and hazel eyed, with my 32E boobs and their medium large slightly tannish areolas and thick knobby nipples, slight tummy, full hips and fluffy, dark brown, very trimmed bush (shave under) and REDface -- I felt a sense of complete surrender of my façade of control. By the time I was out in the driveway of my nice gated community neighborhood home, I was feeling a sense of both indecency and embarrassment. And yet, my nipples were standing out from my big, heavy, obviously braless tits under the pink cotton warm up top.

I didn't have too long to think about it, because just about the second that I was ready to run back into the house and call him to say I couldn't do it, whatever it was, he pulled up in his car. He looked me over and grinned.

"Well done," he said with a kind of musically delighted enthusiasm.

I blushed even more furiously.

"Get in," he said.

As much to be out of the public eye, even though it was almost 1 am now -- I did as he said.

He looked right at my chest and smirked. "Oh my God," he half groaned.

A surge of embarrassment went through me and I reflexively folded my arms across my boobs.

"Uh uh, don't do that," he chided.

I almost involuntarily uncrossed. Already it was like I was losing control or something.

"You know, I dated a woman once who had implants. She got them big, just like you, under the muscle," he said.

I looked shocked.

"You know how I know you did too?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"When they are that big... they tend to settle and hang some."

He had used the same term my surgeon had and he was right It had been a year and an half and they had slightly sagged from sheer weight so that they moved and wobble when I didn't have a bra on.

"I love that look," he said and the sudden bulge in his pants affirmed his comment. I blushed furiously.

That was when I noticed the football between the two front seats. I frowned, but before I could ask anything he turned into the parking lot of a local high school's football practice field. It was completely abandoned and dark but still close enough to a main thoroughfare that it wasn't completely privacy-assured. He parked and switched off the engine.

"Get out," he said. "And bring the football."

I did as he said with confused apprehension. We walked out to the field and while this was the South, it was a bit chilly out there, and considering how little I had on, my nipples tightened even more.

"Okay," he said when we reached midfield. "All you have to do, is run 5 little pass patterns and catch 5 passes in a row and we will be done."

I hadn't really realized how the tension that had built up during the whole loss and payoff from the bet period, but that simple tasking made me gasp suddenly.

"I can do that," I said with obvious relief.

I tossed him the ball.

"Okay," he said readying to throw.

I bent down ready to sprint.

"Oh, one more thing," he said. "You have to do it without the sweat suit."

At first, the words didn't register. Then I blinked and stood back up.

"Wh... what?" I asked.

"You heard me. Lose the sweat suit... run 5 patterns....catch 5 balls...and you are done."

I looked around in a wild-eyed outrage. Out there, anyone could see if they were passing close enough by. It was so risky.

"No way," I said. "I am NOT running around in my birthday suit out here! Anyone could see me!"

"Ah, just like I suspected," he said with a mocking tone. " All talk. Typical of a bulldog grad. A total welcher."

I know reading this it sounds stupid. In reality it was, but at that moment, for whatever reason, I felt challenged, like I had to defend UGA or something. I hesitated, like I was on the edge of some threshold I could never cross back over, and then, fatefully, I said as he started to walk off the field shaking his head, "Wait."

He paused with that same light smirk that made me want to slap him suddenly.

"I... I'll do it."

"Okay," he said and again, to his credit, he was extremely subdued in his presentation.

I honestly think if he had acted the least bit triumphant or laughed at me just then I would not have gone through with it. He seemed to somehow know that and watched quietly as I awkwardly reached down and grasped the bottom of my sweat top. Looking around nervously I hauled it up and over my tawney blonde head and dropped it on the ground.

The bulge in his pants increased impressively.

Blinking with a look of complete vulnerability and embarrassment I untied my sweat bottoms. Being topless, even out there, was one thing but showing my pussy was a whole bigger thing emotionally. Taking a fortifying breath, I dragged them down bending over. In a futile and stupid attempt at some last effort of modesty I had turned away from Rod to do it. What I didn't consider was that I was giving him a completely unobstructed view of my shaved labia and anal area. I had also not considered that leaving my shoes on made for a kind of hobbling that prevented me from standing back up quickly.

I struggled to lift one foot and work the pants off over that shoe. The result was a totally exposed, semi spread look at my nether area for Rod, and I was just getting one foot free when I heard him say, "Oh God, I love how you groom."

I just died at that. Staying bent over with my big tits hanging and swaying obscenely I frantically lifted the other foot and yanked the pants free. When I stood back up with my dark brown pubic hair displayed, my face was crimson with humiliation. It also occurred to me that this was the first time he had seen me naked. In spite of the nervousness and shame and indecency of it all...or maybe because of it, I don't know, I was also quite... warm and a tiny bit... damp.

Rod looked me over not even bothering to hide his smirk, he said "I would have guessed the carpet doesn't match the drapes."

I wanted to curl up in the fetal position, but there was no time for that.

"Okay, ready to run your pattern?" he asked with a really impish tone.

Realizing I had to, I bent over in a starting position. I knew what I was showing but I was too far into this now to go back. All I had to do was catch 5 passes so I could get out of there.

"Hut Hut," he said and I took off...

Now, you probably already know, but I am NOT built for sprinting, especially naked. The sight was beyond ridiculous and obscene, and what I felt was beyond humiliation. My big tits bounced and banged against each other, and my buns jiggled as I ran out and reached up for the ball arcing through the air. I looked up hopefully. The ball passed a few inches over my hands and bounced away across the dry grass. I slowed and then jogged over to pick it up. Even that slight exertion had me breathing hard and I jogged back, wobbling and bumping as I ran back to him with the football in my hands.

Rod was laughing and the full outline of his cock was showing in detail through his pants now. To my shock, it was huge. Easily an inch bigger than any I had ever experienced.

"You know maybe it would be better, if you hiked the ball to me and then just ran out about 10 yards. Let's try that," he said with a dirty grin.

I closed my eyes in shame momentarily, but I knew, if that was what it would take to end this very public display, I would do it. So, I turned and bent over, legs apart right in front of him and placed both hands on the football.

"Ohhhhh yes," he groaned.

I wanted to run off the field. I wanted to crawl under the grass. Instead I just stayed in position and waited until I heard him say, "Hut hut."

I hiked the ball and ran up the field then turned, extending my arms. Again, the ball sailed high. Even leaping up as high as I could, I couldn't get it and as I landed, my big tits dropped heavily and banged into each other.

"Aww good try," encouraged Rod.

The grin on his face said he did it on purpose. I experienced a sinking feeling that I was going to get played like this a lot more. I was right. And so it went. Forget 5 passes or even 10. By the time I had run 15 patterns, I was sweating slightly and panting, tummy pooching slightly as I tried to get my breath. I looked at Rod as a car's lights out on the main street sent a surge of panic through me.

"Rod please, I... I can't do this," I said. "I'm going to get caught."

He grinned. "You want an alternative option?"

"God yes," I said. "Please."

"I don't know..." He looked around. "I guess you are right. Anyone could come by."

"Come on, Rod. Please. Anything."

He acted like he was thinking and then he grinned like he had won the sexual lottery.

"Okay... tell you what, you, uh, kneel down here on the 50 yard line and give me a blowjob and we will be all done."

I just stared at him at first, feeling betrayed and played, offended and angry with myself and him. Just then, far off an emergency vehicle started to wail. In a panic I ran over and kneeled down.

Rod looked down at me and almost ceremonially unzipped his pants. He nodded,

I reached in and my palm encircled the shockingly thick fleshy rod. I hauled it out and my eyes widened as it swelled and stood up unrestrained. Without the restriction of his pants, it actually got a little larger.

"Oh my God," I gasped.

Rod grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Yes, I have heard that before," he said. Then he reached out and put his hand on top of my head and guided my face toward it. "The sooner you get to sucking, the sooner we can get you dressed and back in the car."

Pathetically enough, I knew he was right. I grasped the base of his big dick. Feeling the smooth texture of his shaved balls, I turned my head, extended my tongue and lickkkkkkked the length of the shaft up to the fat head on one side. Then I did the same on the other side.

"Oh yes," he groaned.

Opening wide, I leaned up and engulfed the head in my warm, velvety soft mouth and began a medium tempo bobbing. With each stroke of my lips I took a little more of it. Rod's hand was still insistently on my head and I felt a slight pressure that meant he wanted me to go deeper. I complied.

Forcing myself to relax, I felt the big head hit that back of my mouth and my eyes watered furiously as I struggled to suppress my gag reflex. Just when I couldn't take much more, I came up and caught a breath. I looked up at him as I did and found him looking down at me with a lusty expression.

"Go all the way down this time," he demanded.

Swallowing the leftover lumpy sensation from where his cockhead had hit my throat, I opened wide and started to suck again. I bobbed a couple of times to mid shaft and then...

Like I said, his was the biggest cock I had ever sucked and I wasn't sure I could actually get it all down. I did know I would have to try so I placed my hands on his thighs and slid my mouth down so that his cock was right back at the opening to my throat. I took a breath through my nose and... almost convulsing from my gag reflex, I forced it in. My eyes bugged and watered tremendously. Then I felt the pressure of his hand on the back of my head and my throat literally bulged. It was all so overwhelming, but the most profound aspect of all was the coarse feeling of his pubic hair billowing from under my nose.

I had deep throated him.

Rod groaned deeply and grabbed my hair in his hand and lifted my face up and off his cock.

"Oh my God, you are amazing," he said. "Now...make me cum."

Holding my hair like a handle he started guiding the motion of my head, the speed and the depth. I bobbed and sucked and a slurping,sucking sound rose as I felt not just his arousal intensifying, but mine too. I loved sucking his cock even as I sort of hated him and I was finding this treatment, the disrespect and public use shockingly hot. Even so, I knew that not being caught was only a matter of time. It went on for another couple of minutes until he tensed and groaned and I felt that unmistakable spasm of his hard cock in my mouth followed immediately by a flood of salty tangy blast of his exploding orgasm.

Now, I don't swallow. At least not usually, but he had my hair in his hand and so my choice right then was apparent, either swallow or choke. So, I swallowed. And swallowed. And swallowed.

Finally he sighed and let me come up.

His cock flopped out half-hard and flagging. I stared at it, feeling a sense of submission and shame and arousal that I hadn't experienced before in my life. To his credit, he didn't say anything. He just helped me get dressed and escorted me back to the car. We got in and started to drive away.

When we got to my house he leaned over and kissed me.

"How about dinner tomorrow?" he said.

"Yes... Sir," I said.

If I only knew what I was ultimately agreeing to, but that is another story.