Sublimilfinals — part 2
When I walked into that meeting room as a MILF for the first time, I knew I’d be fucked. My young studly colleague was there, and he turned and stared as I walked in. Hah, I knew it. He didn’t have any experience with mature, experienced women like me. My dress was tight in all the right places, and when I “dropped” my notebook and had to bend over, away from him, I actually heard him gasp. We pretended to meet, but only for a minute. Then I walked over, to sit next to him and help. I helped him stare into my cleavage. Then I accidentally put my hand on his thigh, and brushed his crotch. He stopped pretending to have a meeting. He stood up, and pulled down his jeans. His cock was glorious...
Amanda was home alone on Saturday afternoon, sitting cross-legged on the guest bed, wearing only a t-shirt, reading erotic MILF story after erotic MILF story, and playing with her pussy. James was gone, and she’d given up her feeble attempts to do housework. She was confused and distracted, she was horny all the time, she sucked her thumb whenever she could, and she couldn’t stop thinking about MILFs. Everything pulled—or pushed—her thoughts in that direction.
The living room table—a MILF could be fucked pretty well there. Kitchen sink—a MILF could wear high heels, an apron and nothing else, and her husband’s young colleague could accidentally walk into the kitchen asking for a glass of water... Not to mention the garden, where a MILF could be on all fours, weeding, when the 19-old neighbor boy saw her and climbed over the fence... All these, and more, were in the collection of stories, and they swirled in her mind. She was floating in a daze of confused arousal, almost as if she was having an sexy dream. Her house seemed to be turning into one huge stage for erotic MILF scenes, and she finally gave up and stopped picking up different objects only to find herself, a bit later, just standing there, holding a water can or something, but reading a story, rubbing herself through her tights, and sucking her thumb. She’d made her way somehow down to the guest room, and shed everything but her t-shirt. Then she sank back into the sex-drenched bliss from last night.
Or, almost the sex-drenched bliss from last night. It was great, but not fantastic. She didn’t enjoy her masturbating as much today, which drove her frustration through the roof. Sure, she still came, but the orgasms felt... weaker, somehow. Until she got to the last story, and saw—the image.
At the end of the story was a photo, taken in a conference room in an office. A woman in high heels standing up, facing a window, one hand against the wall, the other in her hair. She was looking back over her shoulder, at the young man behind her. He had his hands on her hips, and had hiked her skirt up to reveal her panty-less ass, and her bare legs. And her pussy. Which was filled by the young man’s cock.
Amanda stared, and toppled backwards, her legs spreading. Her right hand went to her pussy, her left to her mouth. She held her phone awkwardly with a few fingers, as her thumb plunged deep into her mouth. The screen was just in front of her, and she had to stare cross-eyed at it. She moaned around her thumb and drove all four fingers into her pussy, as her thumb flicked at her clit. Her eyes slowly scanned the picture. The woman, her heels, her skirt, the man, his cock, his hands, his muscled biceps. And then the caption. Someone had added a cartoon-style text bubble.
“Good milf,” the young man said to the woman. To the MILF.
Amanda came, in a whole cascade of orgasms. She didn’t notice that she dropped her phone, and of course she couldn’t see her eyes rolling up. She did feel her pussy squeezing her hand, and her tongue trying to wrap itself around her thumb. She was vaguely aware she was thrashing on the bed, her legs flailing as they tried to wrap themselves around her non-existent lover.
She only stopped cumming when she fell off the bed, and crashed to the floor with a thud.
She shot up from the floor, and had to steady herself against the wall. She was panting, her head spinning. Her heart was racing, and she staggered back to the bed and sank down it, feeling dizzy. This is insane, she thought. I’m insane. She fought to slow her breathing, to calm down. She put her thumb in her mouth, and it worked—she just melted backwards onto the bed, her body and mind somehow calming and relaxing instantly. She took deep, slow, breaths, and sucked her thumb, and began to feel better. Something really weird was going on, she could see that. This was not normal at all, and even though it felt good—good? She’d never had that kind of orgasm before, never—she was clearly losing control. Of herself. She was too horny, too fixated on MILFs. Too... fixated on being a MILF. No, this wasn’t normal.
Once she was calmer, she got up, and took a cold shower. She dressed, in the most normal, unsexy clothes she could find, and sat down at their home office desk, hands on the table. It was good James wasn’t home. Trying to keep her breathing calm, she focused her thoughts.
Okay, she thought. What’s going on? I’m completely... crazy. Sex-crazy. I want to be a MILF. I want to be fucked, by a young, strong, man, with a big—NO! Stop that. She dragged her mind back to the office, the desk, the view of the neighbor’s garden shed. Something’s happened to me. We talked about—about the M-word, at the office party, and I sure wasn’t going to do what stupid Andy said. He’s too smug and arrogant, even if he’s young, and looks pretty nicely muscled, and I don’t know how big his cock is...
She pinched herself, hard. Stop. It. She couldn’t believe she was thinking about Andy in that way. Okay. Calm down. Could it be—the subliminals? She didn’t want to think that, to believe that. She’d researched them. There’d been experiments showing they didn’t work. Showing people very quick pictures and words just didn’t work. It didn’t change any behavior. It didn’t work. It couldn’t work! Not on her. Especially not on her. She was—she was good at thinking, she was good at controlling her thoughts... Except the last few days, but...
With a deep breath, she forced herself to think it. Something is going on with my thoughts and feelings, and it started when Andy installed his program. To help her think of herself as a—MILF. The word seemed to hang in her mind, right in the center, and shine, bright like a beacon, and tainting everything. Everything she saw, and did, and thought, seemed to be pulled in by—that word. She’d felt her thoughts drawn to it before, like fluttering moths drawn to a light. Now it felt more like they’d been trapped in a web, by the, eh, MILF spider. It was so hard to break away from it, to think about anything without some association popping up—this is how a MILF would think, what a MILF would do. And if she couldn’t break free, then what?
No! She forced herself back to the room, back to the office. She slapped her palm against the desk. It felt good, solid. It hurt. She wanted to cry, but more from the confusion than the pain. She needed help.
Staring around, she saw her work laptop, lying on the desk. She was struggling to stay calm, so she just pulled it over and booted it up. She opened a web browser, and did another search for “subliminal messages.” Lots of hits—Wikipedia, which she’d already read, psychological-sounding pages. None of it felt like what she was looking for. She scanned page after page, site after site, and found herself growing desperate. They all talked about how they worked, or did not work. She wanted to know how to resist them. She needed a method.
When she searched for that instead, she got a different list of hits. Nothing was useful though. Dammit, I need to know how to resist Andy’s messages, she thought. He’s doing something to me. Subliminal messages don’t work, but I’m thinking about—she slapped the desk again. That word still hung in her mind. Resist, she thought. Find a way to get back control of your thoughts.
She went to more sites and read more pages, but found nothing she could use. What did you do when you were being manipulated by subliminal messages? What could she do? What should she do? As she read, she almost felt claustrophobic, trapped in her own mind. The MILF word seemed to grow bigger, or maybe she was being drawn in. She was very aware of herself, sitting on the office chair wearing only a t-shirt, her pussy leaking onto the chair. Helplessly, she let her hand go down between her legs. One hand clicked and scrolled, the other went back and forth between her pussy and her nipples. She kept her eyes locked on the screen. If she looked away, she knew, she’d see all those possibilities for hot MILF sex in the room, in the garden, everywhere, and she’d be—lost.
She fought against it, but that just made it stronger. She could feel it, feel that spider-web in her mind growing stronger. She was paralyzed, reading and scrolling and clicking frantically, fingering herself, not daring to move for fear of giving in completely.
Finally, she jumped up, screamed out loud and slapped herself in the face. The pain shocked her, and she stared at her hand. I’m crazy, she thought, and began to cry softly. She sat down again, with her face in her hands, for a moment. Then, tears running down her cheeks, she typed in a new search, asking Google “what should i do”.
In response, the computer showed a popup. “Recommended action”, it said, with a block of text.
Subliminal messages only work if the subject is not aware of them. If the subject is aware of the messages, she can choose to act on them, or not. The way to resist subliminal messages is therefore to become aware of them. The only way to do that is to immerse yourself in them, and to watch for anything that seems off. In this way, it is possible to gradually become aware of the messages, and let them rise into consciousness.
She read it over and over. It seemed simple, but... There was something about it, but she didn’t dare thinking about it. She sat perfectly still, feeling like a trapped animal, unable to do anything. She had no choice. There was only one thing to do. Only one way to resist. She—she had to try.
Slowly, she leaned back in the chair, her pussy tingling as her breasts shifted, and put her hands on the armrests. Taking a deep breath, she fixed her eyes on the center of the screen, and tried to force all thoughts out of her mind. The messages. She stared at the screen, keeping her eyes wide open, and immersed herself in the subliminal messages, watching for anything that seeemed off.
Hours later, she got up, feeling cold, stiff, and badly needing to pee. She’d stared at the screen, forcing herself not to think. As she walked to the bathroom, she found herself wishing she’d taken her cousin up on the offer to meditate, that time. She’d said no, but maybe it would have helped now. As it was, she’d tried to watch her thoughts, to see what came up. If, that is, there were any messages there at all.
The first thing she’d thought about was resisting. She’d thought a lot about that—but that was her own thought, right? She’d decided to do it herself, and had found a method. It seemed strange that Andy wanted her to fight him. The next thing—well, that was being a MILF, of course. There was so much of that, she couldn’t track it all. On a couple of occasions, she’d gotten drawn in, and actually thought about it, thought about all the young men at work and imagined herself... pleasing them. She shuddered. The fantasies had been pretty explicit, and even now, as a memory, they made her pussy heat up. And even when she’d managed to push them away, they’d seemed to swirl and drift through her mind.
Perhaps it had been a mistake. She’d just sat down and let herself daydream idly about being a MILF for several hours. Some resistance, she thought.
After another cold shower she made herself busy. There were chores to do, and she could always invent something, just so she kept herself busy. She did sit down at her laptop again in the evening, with an alarm, and stared at it for forty-five minutes. If the resistance idea worked, she needed to get a clearer idea of what she was being—subjected to.
She was pretty miserable that Sunday. She kept herself busy, with several episodes of laptop-watching mixed in. Luckily, James got called in to work and had to go to the office. Whenever he smiled at her, she smiled back but felt awful, like a cheat, or a fake. How could she tell him what she was thinking and feeling?
Towards the evening, she lay down on the guest bed again, naked. Trembling slightly, she held up her phone, and scrolled through the MILF stories. Her fingers went right down to her pussy, and she let herself sink back into her sex-haze. When she reached the end image this time, the orgasm was different. It wasn’t as intense, but it was longer. She spread her legs and stared at her phone, with as much of her thumb in her mouth as she could, and just floated on slow wave after slow wave of orgasm. It was wonderful.
When it ended, she felt much better. Relaxed, and rested, and just plain... good. She took a bath, and shaved her legs, and then her pussy. She didn’t normally do that, but—she could see that image in her mind, see that woman with her shaved pussy. Resist or not resist, the afterglow of that last session simply seduced her. She wanted to look like her, as much as she could.
And then it was Monday and a new working week. Amanda felt—okay. She’d dug into her wardrobe and found something to wear that both matched the woman in the image, and that was acceptable at work. A loose, lavender-colored blouse, but subtly cut so that it strained in just the right places. A pleated black skirt. Silver shoes, with just enough heel to give her a high-heel look, but not too hard to walk in. Different from her normal style, yes, but she wouldn’t react if she saw somebody wearing this. The big secret was, of course—no panties. Her skirt was long, so nobody should notice. It felt wrong, and bad, and stupid—and way too hot. The woman in the picture wasn’t wearing panties and none of the women in the stories did either. Her body ached for more pleasure, and it knew that she’d get that if she was a—good MILF. She got a small, light orgasm every time she whispered those words to herself. And good MILFs didn’t wear panties.
There was no way she could wear panties.
People noticed her new style, and she got several compliments. But not from Linda.
“Amanda, what are you wearing?” Linda stared at her, then beckoned her towards an empty meeting room. “Come on girl, what are you doing?” she said, as she closed the door behind them.
“It’s... I just wanted to try something new,” she began, but faltered under Linda’s incredulous stare. “Do you think it’s... inappropriate?”
Linda took a deep breath and looked away for a moment.
“No, it’s not inappropriate. But it’s totally different from anything you’ve worn to work for the last five years. You look nice, definitely—nice skirt, that. But it rings a lot of alarm bells that you start wearing them now.”
“Eh. How... so?”
“Hello, world to Amanda! Have you forgotten about that stupid program?”
“Oh, that. No, of course not!” Amanda shook her head vigorously. “It’s... come on Linda, subliminal messages don’t work. Everyone knows that!”
“Ok, fine. Then explain why you wanted to try something new, a month after you and I went shopping and you bought a whole new suit. Remember how happy you were with it?”
“Y-y-yesss...” Amanda stared at her feet. Her high-heeled feet.
“I’m suspicious,” Linda declared. Amanda kept staring down. Then she looked up.
“Linda,” she said in small voice. “I.. think I’m being affected. I’m feeling... confused. A-a-and...” She closed her eyes. “I’m so horny.”
When she opened her eyes Linda was frowning at her, but smiled.
“Okay,” she said. “Thanks for telling me that. Can you describe it more?”
“Oh god, this is so... embarrassing.”
“I won’t tell anyone, you know that.”
Amanda nodded, and blinked back tears. “It started last week. I think. I... put my thumb in my mouth. I sucked my thumb like a baby. And I... masturbated. An-Andy sent me stories. Erotic stories. About... MILFs. And I... they were so... So sexy.” Tears ran down her cheeks now, but her pussy began to heat up as well.
“Okay, girl,” Linda said. “Here, come here.” She put her arms around Amanda in a hug. Amanda cried silently into her friend’s shoulder for a while.
“This is not good,” Linda said. “What I know, is that subliminal messages were invented in the fifties or so, and didn’t work. But of course people kept trying, and I’ve heard... rumors, that there’s been advances. But. It’s not mind control. You’re not helpless Amanda.” Linda held her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. “We can beat this.”
Amanda nodded, and wiped some of her tears on her sleeve. “God, I feel like... I don’t know. Like an idiot. Like I’m crazy. I’m sorry, Linda.”
“Hush, silly. Nothing to be sorry about. Here.” Linda handed her a napkin, and she dabbed around her eyes. Her make-up was shot, she’d have to fix it up.
“I.. have an idea how to resist it,” she said.
“Okay,” Linda said. “That’s good. Tell me.”
Right then, someone knocked, and opened the door an inch. “I’ve booked this room, ladies.”
“We’ll talk later,” Linda said. “We’ll deal with this, Amanda. I’ll help.”
Amanda put on a smile and followed Linda out the door. She paused.
“I need to go... get presentable.”
Linda nodded.
“Talk to you later. Okay?”
“Yes. Linda... thanks.” It came out in a whisper.
Linda smiled at her, and walked off.
In the afternoon, she booked a small meeting room for three hours. She held several meetings from there, all remote so she could stare at the laptop screen for long periods of time. In between, she went to the bathroom where she stared at the image at her phone, fingered her pussy, and sucked her thumb. Her bare pussy felt different, and great. The frequent trips kept her horniness down to reasonable levels, to a low background throb of arousal.
The next day she felt bold. When she had an hour between meetings, she headed off to the other end of the office, to one of the team areas. Andy was sitting at a desk, talking to a young female colleague, who was laughing. Amanda walked up to him and cleared her throat.
“I’d like to speak with you, please,” she said, and turned without waiting for an answer. She walked in behind one of the screens around the area, over to a corner.
“I’m resisting,” she told him, in a low voice. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.” It wouldn’t, either. She felt she had it under control this week—her thoughts were much calmer.
“I understand,” he said, but his lip curled up as he glanced down at her. “That’s good.”
She frowned and crossed her arms. She shouldn’t have worn these clothes for this meeting.
“I want you to stop. Remove the program. I know what you’re doing, and I’m resisting it.”
“You can remove it yourself, Amanda,” he said, with that superior smile of his. “Whenever you want. But maybe it’s working, eh? Maybe you like it? Maybe—it feels good to be a MILF?” He drew himself up and put his hands on his hips. Amanda swallowed. She recognized that pose from one of the stories, and it made her pussy spark with pleasure. The contours of his chest were pretty clear through his shirt...
“No,” she said, controlling herself with an effort. She was aroused—too aroused—but annoyed. “It’s not working. I will resist you. You’ll see.” She pushed past him and walked back to her desk, keeping her head down. With every step, she could feel the air on her hairless pussy, and—without panties—she felt drops of wetness on her thighs.
Later that afternoon, she got a message from Linda. “Sorry, I need to deal with a family emergency and have to take a few days off. Talk to you as soon as I can!”
Damn, Amanda thought. I need you, Linda.
Wednesday morning, and she itched. All over. She was wearing her old, normal clothes—including panties—and she wanted to crawl out of them, right there and then. She would not give in to Andy.
As she came out of a meeting, where she’d almost snapped at several of her colleagues, she met Andy.
“Amanda,” he said, nodding at her. “Can I talk to you?” He motioned towards one of the small booths they had in the office, for quick meetings.
She hesitated. Her mood was lousy, and she wanted to go home, not talk to Andy... But maybe he’d changed his mind. She nodded, and followed him into the booth. She glared at him, arms crossed.
“So, yesterday,” he said, nodding at her. “Seems you’re resisting pretty well.”
“Yes,” she almost growled. She wanted to hit him.
“Why?” he said, and took that pose again. Amanda’s pussy was already in an uproar, since she’d ignored it all day, and now, seeing him, it sent a burst of pleasure through her. Her eyes widened, and she forced them closed. Then opened them, narrowly.
“Because,” she said, trying to hide her panting, “I am not a MILF. I don’t want to be a MILF. MILF is just a another stupid way for horny men to to control women and use them for sex.” It felt good to say it, and defy that inner voice that kept whispering I want to be a MILF, it’s great to be a MILF, MILFs get great sex, I love sex.
“I think you’re lying to yourself, Amanda. All women want to be MILFs. You want to be a MILF.”
She glared at him, said nothing. He smiled that superior smile, and then, slowly, held out his tongue. He held it in front of her—and her mouth opened. Automatically. She couldn’t close it, either. She hadn’t sucked her thumb that day, and now, with a thumb there, her mouth seemed desperate. It opened wide and round, and her head bent forward. With all her strength, she forced herself still, but she was still standing an inch from his thumb, her mouth wide open, trembling. She stared at his thumb, then up at his face. His superior smile was even wider now.
“You’ll see,” he said, and left the booth.
Amanda had to sit down. Her legs were shaking, her heart was pounding, and her head was spinning. That had been... close? Ridiculously erotic? Humiliating as all...? Completely inappropriate? All of that? With an enormous effort, she calmed herself down, without sucking her thumb. Slowly, methodically, ignoring the burning fire in her pussy, she walked back to her desk, sat down, and created a support request to reinstall her computer. Then she went home, and went right to the gym for a really hard workout.
She couldn’t put on her normal clothes the next day. Her body revolted at the idea, making her hands shake so hard she dropped them on the floor. She put on the other clothes instead. Without panties. In the office, she got through two meetings before IT support wanted to reinstall her laptop. Finally, she thought. I should have done that long ago.
Restless, she got up and walked around the office. She kept away from Andy, but ran into him on her third pass through the kitchen.
“Hi,” he said, and pointedly glanced across her body.
She shook her head and smiled. “Right now, my laptop is being reinstalled. Your program will be gone forever.”
He opened his mouth and closed it. “Really. That was... unexpected.”
“Good,” she said. “Don’t try anything else. I am fed up with you messing around.”
He simply nodded, frowning.
She went back to her desk. Still reinstalling. She was still restless, and spent a while talking to various colleagues. She really wanted to go to the bathroom and, well. She was not going to the bathroom. Instead, she stared out the window, until somebody said her name.
“Amanda?”
She turned. One of the young women in Andy’s team—Melissa?
“Yes?”
“Um, Andy said he wanted to see you. In room 424, I think.”
“Oh. Thank you. Thanks.”
Now what? She wanted nothing to do with him. But... She should stay away from him, but, dammit, maybe he wanted to... apologize? He had seemed a bit shaken. Her laptop was only at 75%. With a sigh, she headed for room 424.
It was a big room, with a rectangular table, a large screen at one end and a row of windows. Andy was sitting at the table, and had connected his laptop to the screen.
“Turn that off,” Amanda said, stopping in the doorway. “I mean it.”
“No, no, I mean, there’s nothing in there. The program isn’t running on my laptop. Please Amanda, come in and close the door?” He smiled at her, a much less confident and superior smile.
She did, and walked up to stand at the far end of the table.
“What do you want?” she said, in the flattest voice she had.
“Well, it’s just... you said you’re removing the program. I just wanted to check.”
Check what, she didn’t say, because Andy clicked on his computer and the image filled the large screen. Amanda stared, and moaned aloud. She almost came, and shuddered at the sudden fire between her legs.
“No,” she moaned. “No... turn... it off...”
“You don’t want that,” he said. “I can see it’s been running for long enough.” Amanda couldn’t take her eyes off the screen, and her arousal just grew. She saw Andy get up and walk toward her.
“I knew it, you want to be a MILF,” he said, and reached out and put his thumb in her mouth.
Her mind just swirled. She couldn’t think. She stared at Andy, at the screen, at Andy, and her mouth sucked on his thumb. Her pussy felt like it was melting, blazing hot and dripping wet.
“Fuck, Amanda,” he laughed, “that wide-eyed look really suits you.” He pulled at her with his thumb. “Come,” he said, and helplessly, she followed, step by step, led by his thumb in her mouth.
He led her up to the screen and stepped around her.
“Look,” he said, “look at the picture.” She couldn’t do anything else, it was huge on the screen in front of her, filling it, filling her mind. When Andy began moving her, arranging her, turning her head to face backwards, gently steering her to the window and putting one hand on the wall and the other in her hair, she just went along with it. Her body slid into the pose from the image, settling in. When his thumb left her mouth she swayed, but couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. She watched, feeling dull and slow, as Andy took her skirt and lifted it up, stuffing the fabric behind the waistband.
“Wow,” he said, and ran his hands over her ass. She shuddered. Then he dropped his pants, and held her hips. Her heels helped, putting her at a good height.
His cock touched her pussy lips, and she moaned again. She was completely dazed, and insanely horny. His cock slid into her, into her burning, melting wetness, all the way in. Then he stood still, holding her hips, his cock buried in her, and she was the woman in the image.
“Good milf,” Andy said.
Amanda came. It wasn’t a lightweight quickie this time, it was a full-blown earthquake of an orgasm. She didn’t move, she was still frozen into her pose, but her body trembled. It subsided, but Andy began to fuck her, and she came again, over and over, in smaller, lighter orgasms in the same rhythm that he was fucking her. His cock going all the way in—bam, she came. Out, and in—bam. Bam. Bam.
“Good milf,” he said again—and another mega-orgasm exploded through her body. “Good milf.” Another. And in between—bam, bam, bam.
She had no idea how long it went on. Later, she remembered it dimly. It was mostly just a never-ending orgasm, that blew everything else out of her mind. When it cleared, she realized she was alone, and half-sitting on the floor. She stumbled up, and sank into a chair. Her head spun. Her pussy was still burning, and she knew that if Andy came back, she wouldn’t resist at all. She wanted to be fucked, so badly...
Amanda closed her eyes and fought tears. She was so crazily horny. It had been the best fuck of her life. She felt fantastic. And she felt like a total slut.
There was no way she could work any more. Somehow she managed to get her things and skulk out of the office without meeting anyone. She drove home and hid in the guestroom, closing the door, closing the blinds. It didn’t take long, though, for her fingers to find their way down to her pussy. Lying on the bed, eyes closed, she sucked her thumb, masturbated, and whispered to herself.
“Good milf. Good milf. Good milf.” Each time, a small but utterly delicious orgasm shot through her body.
When she stepped into the office the next day, she felt almost normal. Except she was so horny it nearly itched. She was wearing her normal work clothes, and she thought her small talk around the coffee machine sounded normal. The first meeting of the day went well, and she didn’t even let her eyes linger on any of the young men in the room. They wanted to, but she kept them on the screen or on her laptop.
As the day wore on, she began to feel brittle. After a few hours, she’d had to go to the bathroom, for a thumb-and-pussy session, which just made the urge stronger. She felt like a shell of a manager, smiling and nodding in the right places, saying the right things.
“Yes,” she said to a colleague, “I’ll have a look at that on Monday. We really should look over those documents.” As she spoke, a young male developer walked past in the corridor, and she had to squeeze her legs together.
Just after lunch, she got an email from Andy. A meeting invite, and a link. The link was for installing that subliminal program. She just felt numb. She knew she should do something. Decline the meeting, delete the email, talk to Linda, go home. There were lots of options, and she could see them all in her mind. See them hanging there, trapped in that spider-web. She could see them, but couldn’t think them. Instead, she slumped in her chair and stared at her computer. She could only think of one thing to do. Her pussy agreed.
When the meeting started, she was there, with her computer. Andy was a few minutes late.
“There you are,” he said as he walked into the room. “Good milf.”
Amanda gasped as she orgasmed. It was even better when he said it.
“I think you know why we’re here,” he said. “But first, I want you to install my program again. If you don’t—you won’t get what you want.”
Amanda nodded mutely. She still felt numb—except for that burning bit between her legs. Shaking slightly, she opened up her laptop, turned it so Andy could see, clicked on the link, clicked on the dialog boxes, and got the program installed again.
“Good milf,” Andy said. Amanda shuddered with another orgasm.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s for later. Here’s what I want you to do now. Stand over there.” He pointed at the far end of the table. She stood and walked over.
“Good milf. Now, take off your jacket and drop it on the floor.” She obeyed. “Good milf.” She came. “Unbutton your blouse. Good milf.” Amanda stared fixedly at the wall rather than at Andy, as she stripped off her clothes, piece by piece. Her cheeks burned. Andy was filming with his phone, every step, until she was naked.
“Lie down on the table, on your back.” The conference table was cool against her butt and back as she sat down and leaned back. “Play with yourself.” She stuck one thumb in her mouth and put the other hand on her pussy, and masturbated while Andy moved around.
“Good milf,” he said, and appeared between her legs. “Spread your legs.” He was naked, and as she spread wide he moved in. She stared at his cock hungrily, her pussy on fire with her need. “Good milf,” he said, and guided his cock into her.
Amanda moaned as he slid into her wet, hot pussy, leaning in over her. He pushed her arms down and out with his elbows, and stopped with his face just above hers. He leered down at her, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. She knew. She was trapped—but she was also willing. Right then, she was exactly where she wanted to be.
Andy fucked her, slowly, fucked her until the numbness in her mind was entirely gone, leaving only her arousal. She’d never felt so good. Never felt so alive.
He leaned in closer. “Good milf,” he said. Her pussy squeezed around his cock, and her eyelids fluttered. When she felt his lips on hers, she knew she was lost. Her mouth opened to his tongue, but she wasn’t passive. She kissed him back, eagerly.
“Yes,” she mumbled in between the kisses, “I am a good milf.” She came again, and it felt wonderful to say it, to accept it. She knew, somewhere deep in her mind, that she should be annoyed, angry, that she should hate him. But she couldn’t. Not when he was fucking her like this.
At some point, he pulled out of her. She whimpered, she wasn’t done yet. But he picked up his shirt and held it in front of him as he walked over to the door and knocked on it, twice. Somebody responded with three knocks. Amanda sat up as the door opened and three men came in.
“Here she is,” Andy said, “our good milf.” Amanda moaned with her orgasm. Her cheeks were burning again—one of the young men, Peter, was her direct report. She was his manager. She recognized, but didn’t know, the others.
“Just call her a good milf, and she’ll do anything. Amanda, be a good milf and get down on the floor on all fours.” She complied, and stood on hands and knees beside the table, holding her head up and arching her back while the men got undressed.
“She’s not bad,” one of them said.
“No, she’s hot as fuck. Peter, she’s your boss, right?”
“Yep,” Peter said. He’d always been one of the surlier ones, and they hadn’t really connected.
“Then I think you should go first back here.” Andy smacked her butt. “There’s a hole over here too—Rob?” Andy leaned in and put his thumb in her mouth, while one of the other men got down on his knees in front of her.
“Guys, wait,” Andy said. “Look over here.” He was over on Amanda’s right, with his phone. “Amanda, look here. Good milf.” She looked at the camera as she came, with the men’s hands on her head and hips.
“Great,” Andy said. “Off you go, fuck the boss!”
“Good milf,” both guys said, and Amanda trembled from her orgasm as she opened her mouth and took Rob’s cock into it. At her rear, she felt Peter’s hand roam across her ass, and then he pressed his cock against her pussy, and inside. Off to the side, she heard Andy talk to the third guy, about that software, but then Peter said “good milf”, and she forgot to listen as she came.
Peter began fucking her from behind, while she started to slowly slide her mouth up and down Rob’s cock. She felt great.
Yes, indeed, she thought. I am Amanda, and I am a very good milf.
She smiled around the cock in her mouth as she came again.