Business Milf

This is purely fictional. ALL relevant participants are over 18.

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Friday, Feb. 10, 2024.

As the snow was falling on this Winter day in February, the boisterous activity occurring in room 1 was about to reach its' normal conclusion. "Unh! Unh! Unh! Unh!Unh! Unh! Unh! Ohhhh baby, yes!! Unh! Unh! Unh!"

With my legs pointing to the ceiling and one of my white high heels dangling off my foot, caused by each violent thrust in my aching tunnel, and my dress bunched over my waist, the end was near. Having been fucking me the whole hour and five minutes, he'd been between my legs, the sweat that built up on his face, dripping onto my tits, and hitched up hemline, showed jost how exhausted we were. As the obvious vaginal bruising affected my reactions, he finally let loose inside of my quim.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!" Slamming his hips foward and holding himself locked against me, he deposited another batch of cum deep in my sore cunt. With my my left hand running through his bushy mop, he expelled any remaining droplets before lifting his overweight, 5'10 255 lb. frame off of my petite body.

Pulling out of my messy pussy and with him dismounting me, I lowered my nylon clad legs. Seeing the combined juices from our actions, matted on his snake, he grabbed my hair, and I took him fully down my throat. After cleaning him completely off, he pushed me off him. Beginning to dress, the silence in the nasty motel room, that we routinely use every Monday through Friday, was deafening. For an hour or so, the moans, grunts, panting, the headboard hitting the wall or the bedsprings giving me a headache, had echoed throughout the hidden, "hole in the wall" motel, 5 miles from my office. Being a cluster of just 6 single standing rooms, it is not a place a woman, like myself, should ever frequent.

Being a Jr. Vice President at a major Financial institution, I clear my schedule from 11:30-1:30, daily. Making sure I am ready, legs spread, nylons at my hips and my tits out by 11:50 am, I am filled, balls deep, by 9" of flagpole.

Pulling my bra back over my abused breasts, and pulling my pantyhose over my hips, laden with a long run down my inner thigh, I smoothed my dress over my legs, buttoning the top of it. Knowing my nylons were about to saturate the cum knotted in my pussy hair, I made sure the hosiery were taut. Dressing in silence, the shame I have, every time we part ways, is exemplified on my face. Per our routine, we only have missionary sex.

Seeing the door open, the 21 year old turns and reminds me with the bitter, hateful way I've now become accustomed to, "Rest up. We're going to be quite busy during your business trip." As my flight leaves in 2 days, I plan on doing just that. And with that, he leaves the room. Hearing his dilapidated car drive off, I step into my high heels, collect my bag, put my wedding ring back on my left after removing his promise ring he bought me a couple Christmas' ago, and head back to work. Before arriving, I change into a clean pair of nylons, as I'm not allowed to change them in the motel.

Returning to my office, I return my husbands calls, telling him I was stuck in meetings at that time everyday.

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My name is Clara Cole and I am 40 years old. I am 5'3 112 lbs. blonde hair, green eyes and 34b breasts. I have 3 children, 2, under 3 years of age. I've been married to my husband, Roger, 54, for almost 2 years. Being a single mother of a, then 1 year old, I married out of convenience. Hoping to hide my lifestyle from my bosses at the firm, I ended up ruining another relationship.

Living here in Virginia Beach, Virginia, I am a VP in Finance. Receiving my Masters from the University of Virginia, I was elated when I was finally elevated to my current position 5 years earlier.

Learning I had a 3 day business trip in Toronto around my birthday, I purchased a second ticket, using my trust fund I've had since I was 17 years old. Not being able to explain the purchase to my bosses, that was how I always secured it, for the past 15 months.

Walking into my office my Assistant, Shelly, gave me the rest of my course for the day. Seeing the normal gait in my step, my young assistant is the only one who knows I never meet my husband for lunch at those times.

"God, you look exhausted, Clara," She quietly said. "He must be a great fuck for you to keep going back, daily, just to get pounded."

Not knowing who "he" is, I answer back discreetly, "Yes, he is. And he IS worth it. But my God, he's so aggressive." Changing the subject, we try to finish our work day.

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After picking my daughters up from my mother-in-law, I stopped at the grocery store to buy a rotisserie chicken, as I was too tired to cook. Arriving home, Roger waited outside to get the girls out of their car seats. Right on cue, my cell buzzes. Putting it on speakerphone, so that my husband hears everything, I proceed to take the call.

"Hey there Shel, what's up?"

"I just got the final OK from the CEO. We are good to go for the business trip," She replied, as we had this previously worked out. "12 days of meetings and conventions. Yay us!," my 26 yr old assistant snarkily quipped, making sure to dispel ANY possible suspicion from my husband. Explaining my itinerary, flight and hotel info, etc, I ended the call.

"I don't know what I would do without you Shelly. I'll see you Sunday at the airport," I added, knowing she is leaving tomorrow, and will be covering me at my meetings.

Feeling relieved, I prepare dinner for my family.

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Sunday morning, Feb 12, 2024.

"Clara! Your Uber is here!" My mother-in-law shouted.

"I'll be right down mom, let them know I'm coming please!" I returned, making sure I had everything.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I was dressed how I was expected. Wearing a black and white pinstripe dress, adorned with little white "flowers" on each shoulder, 4" black, pointy toe stiletto pumps, sun beige pantyhose, and a white lace bra, I spun around. "Not bad looking for a 40 year old woman, Clara," I said outloud, to myself. Seeing my hair, nails and make up perfect, I put his promise ring in my purse. With that I headed downstairs.

As my sister-in-law was trying to pry Gracie, my almost 2 yr old, off my leg, I grabbed my cases and bag. "Thank you both so much for watching the girls while Roger and I are at our respective trips. He will be home before me. We owe you dearly." Since Roger left the day before, I was grateful he didn't notice the suit bag I was bringing with me. After kissing my girls, I left for the airport.

Finally on my way, I unlocked my cellphone. Taking my wedding ring off of my left finger, I replaced it with the other ring, and placed my wedding ring in the box in my purse. Noticing several texts, I began opening them.

Seeing the first one, it reminded me of the predicament I find myself in.

"Oh yes baby, fuck me." I could hear through my earbud. Seeing my legs pointing upward, in my bed, the night before my wedding, I cringed. Seeing 3 other quick clips, I opened the 5th text.

"Thought you needed a refresher on who has the leverage, bitch. I cannot wait to get to Toronto." Closing my phone, I just stared out the window.

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Arriving at the airport, an airport steward met my Uber and helped take my cases for early check-in. Since my flight wasn't for over 2 hours, It worked perfectly. "Please preboard the blue suit bag," I said. "I don't want to wrinkle what's in it." Satisfied, I proceeded into the lobby.

Pulling out my Business Class ticket, I made my to the security line. Receiving a text, I opened it. "There's a coffee shop before our gate, I'm sitting in the back. Hurry the fuck up."

Quickly responding, I sent a reply. "Just trying to get past security, I'll be there shortly." After texting Shelly, making sure she settled in, I reminded her that I will look for her If I have a free moment and not to interrupt me, unless any emergency occurs at the convention.

Getting past security, I put my trench coat on over my tiny frame. Walking down the corridor looking for the coffeeshop, I check my ticket. Seeing "Gate 18" on it, I return it back in my bag.

Arriving at the coffeeshop at gate 16, I stand outside, shaking inside. Knowing our "visits" are never of the respectful or cordial manner, I take a deep, cleansing breath and step

inside. Looking around, I notice him in, alone, at a table in the very back of the room.

Seeing his cold, empty eyes staring at me, the clear disgust, anger, hatred, and pain I inadvertently caused, I slowly walk towards him.

Standing in front of him, he turns his head to the left, acknowledging my presence. "Show me," he quietly, but powerfully ordered. With me pausing, desperately wanting to speak, he added, "NOW!"

Looking around the relatively busy coffeeshop, I untied the sash on my trench coat and slowly undid each button. When the last button released, my coat opened. Seeing this, an evil smirk quickly appeared, then disappeared, from his face. Reaching over, he put his big hand on my nylon clad leg. As I shamefully looked away, he slid his hand under my dress and inched his way upward, moving it slowly along my inner thigh. I instinctively put my left hand on his. "Tyler, not here honey. Please," I pleaded, knowing my words had no authority behind them.

Playing tug-o-war for a brief instant as I was trying to stifle his progress, he quietly, yet forcefully, rebutted, "Release my hand... MOTHER, or I'll bend you over this fucking table right now and show everyone what a wanton cock whore you are."

Aghast at the vileness of what he just said, I released my grip, and instead, began raking my manicured finger nails over the top of his hand. Having already put the promise ring on my left finger, and my wedding ring in my purse, I proceeded to run my other hand through his hair.

"Don't you ever fucking stop me from what is mine, do you understand!" The venom in voice, clear.

"Yes, I understand," I submissively replied.

"Sit," he bluntly stated.

Sitting next to him, he put his hand, again on my leg, flicking my pantyhose with his fingers. "I don't know what your fucking problem is mom. Just 2 days ago, you were moaning like a whore, when I was fucking you. Don't act shy now." he quipped, as his jaw was now clenched.

Softly, I tried to reason with him, "Baby, that's because we were in that motel room. So its' just us. I don't ever turn you down in there."

"Anywhere, anytime, remember? You fucking begged me to talk to you after you chose that mother fucker over me," he jested, reminding me of the "understanding" I agreed to, in order for him to even be in my presence. "If you would have not married him, I would never have forced you!"

Feeling my phone buzz, I saw it was from my husband. "Honey, I need to take this." Answering it, I hesitantly spoke. "He..hello?"

"Hey, just making sure you got to the airport safely," my husband, Roger, inquired.

Confirming that I did, and that I was in a coffee shop, having tea and a danish, we talked for a couple minutes. Telling me how his trip began, and that he will be home to the girls Wednesday, I felt Tyler's hand grip my knee.

"Umm honey, I need to go, Shelly's trying to reach me," I quickly said, seeing the angry look on my son's face. Hanging up, I once again felt Tyler's wrath.

"I wanted a life with you mom," he reminisced. "When you gave birth to Gracie, I was the happiest man on Earth." Pausing, and with a fiery, bitter look in his eyes, he stated, "Then you fucked it up. You took my daughter from me. That mother fucker isn't her father, neither is Katie."

Knowing this all to be true, I just let him vent.

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Before I met my husband, Tyler and I had been in an extremely torrid sexual relationship, six months after he turned 18. Having been held back in 1st grade, he was a 19 yr old senior in high school, when I became pregnant with our daughter, Gracie. Having conceived the night of his graduation, at almost 20, he was going to be a father.

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Seeing how haggard he looked, he had turned to drugs, almost immediately after abruptly running out on me after my wedding ceremony.

"Sweetheart, you can't even provide for yourself. The girls are loved and cared for, ok?"

Removing his hand from my sultry caress, he snapped back. "But not by me! I'm their father!" As people turned their heads. I caressed his hand again.

Having conceived my 4 month old, Sarah, on a business trip I took with him in January of last year, 3 months after I married, Roger, I passed her off as being my husbands child.

"Tyler, I married him for us, I wish you understood." Continuing, I added, "When I got pregnant with Gracie the night you graduated high school, the suspicion began building at the office. Remember, I hadn't dated anyone in years, until we started what we have."

Turning away from me, I caressed his face. "Honey, please. Listen to me." I begged. "I was afraid of society learning that the person who pumped a child into my womb, was my own son."

"So you're fucking ashamed it was me!" He again yelled, as heads turned once again.

"No, no. Not at all. What we had honey, not many ever realize. You're the one who put our daughters into me. Do you understand what the consequences would have been, had we ever got caught. Honey I lov..."

Clearly not wanting to hear my annoying voice, as he calls it, he put a hand up. "Shut up, OK! I don't believe you!" Sarcastically chuckling, he continued, "You love me. Yet, you share a bed with that old bastard, AND he's fucked you!"

"Sweetie, since our marriage, I can count the number of times he and I have been intimate ok? 6 times to he exact," I counted, using my nailed fingers.

The one time we needed, was after my business trip to Singapore. He believes Sarah is his, so it clears the way for us," I whispered, slowly running my nails over his hand.

"I said shut up... Clara."

Knowing I don't like him using my name, I ended the argument.

***********

As our flight wasn't set to depart until 1:15, I cupped my hand on my sons crotch and whispered in his ear, "Give me 2 minutes, and come to the family bathroom at Gate 15." Taking his hand and placing it on the gusset of my nylons, I breathlessly said, "Momma needs a pre flight fucking baby. AGAINST THE WALL." Picking my bag, I sauntered out of the coffeeshop.

Entering the family bathroom, I locked the door. Hitching my dress over my waist I took my nylons down to my hips. Quickly unbuttoning the top of my dress, I freed my tits from their prison. Texting my son, "I'm ready." I waited.

Hearing a knock, I stood behind the door, opening it a crack, Tyler walked in. Closing it immediately, I locked it. Seeing the picture in front of him. I didn't have to say much. As he was taking his pants down, I said in husky voice, "Fuck your mother young man. Make me sit on that plane with your cum swirling in me."

Pushing me against the wall, he lifted me. Wrapping my legs, as best I could, around his fat body, he pushed into me in one stroke. "Ohhhhhhh Tyler," I silently moaned.

When he bottomed out, I whispered again seductively, "Fuck me baby."

With that, his hips began moving. Developing a rhythm, we could hear passengers making their way around the airport. Looking in the mirror above the sink, I witnessed his butt clench every thrust in me. With the acne on his butt and back as the only ick I'd like to see cured, he continued moving in and out of me. In his arms like a ragdoll, all I could was hold on to him and encourage.

"Oh honey, yes, yes," I silent mewled.

Hearing the handle of the door jiggle, a voice called out, "Someone is using this one, mommy."

Looking at each other, I gave him a wry smile. Pumping away, he was focused on fucking me. Beginning to speed up, I could tell he was close to orgasming. Putting my head in his chest, I mumbled Incoherently, "Harder baby, pump your cum into me."

His breathing beginning to labor, my eyes rolled behind my head. "Ba..baby.. cum.. cum in me...c'mon."

Two more hard pumps into my quivering vagina, he slammed his hips into me, locking me, helpless, against the wall. Feel the initial pulse, I felt warm goo evacuate his, still hard, cock. Pulse after pulse, 3 pulses in all, and his hips stop. Kissing him on the lips, I hoped I hear the words I was desperate to hear.

Backing away, my legs dropped to the floor. Grabbing my hair, I knelt on my trench coat lying on the ground. Enveloping his deflating pipe, I quickly slurped the remnants of our joint spend into my waiting belly. Pulling me off, "Fix yourself up, bitch," was all he said.

Slowly standing, I looked away. Putting my boobs back into my bra, I proceeded to button the top buttons. Once complete, I pulled my pantyhose snug over my waist, them proceeded to smooth the hemline back over waist. Quickly reapplying my lipstick, we grabbed our belongings and wentbto open the door. Nonchalantly walking out, several eyes locked onto us. Holding my sons arm, we proceeded to our Gate 18.

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Part 2 is currently being written.