Cabin Handyman Rails the Milf Author

Elena Voss stood on the wraparound porch of the rented mountain cabin, the crisp pine air doing nothing to cool the low throb between her thighs. At forty-two, the bestselling erotica author had escaped to this remote Colorado peak for one reason only: to finish Filthy Surrender, the nastiest book she’d written yet. What she hadn’t counted on was the distraction currently splitting logs twenty yards away.

Jake.

Twenty-one, shirtless, sweat gleaming on every carved muscle of his back and shoulders. The local handyman had come highly recommended for repairs, maintenance, and general heavy lifting. He was living in the small guest cabin fifty feet behind the main house. Elena had told herself it was practical. She hadn’t admitted, even to herself, how many times she’d already touched herself thinking about those thick arms pinning her down.

She watched him swing the axe again, biceps flexing, the sharp crack of wood echoing through the trees. Her silk robe—barely long enough to cover the bottom curve of her ass—fluttered against her bare thighs. No panties. She rarely wore them when she wrote. The cool air kissed her slick pussy as she leaned on the railing, nipples stiff against the thin fabric.

Jake paused, sensing her stare. He turned, chest heaving, and their eyes locked. Even from this distance she could see the heat in his gaze as it dropped shamelessly down her body. Elena didn’t cover up. Instead she let the robe slip open another inch, revealing the heavy inner curve of one bare breast.

He swallowed hard, adjusted the growing bulge in his worn jeans, and went back to chopping wood with renewed violence.

That night, Elena left her laptop open on the kitchen island while she took a long bath. On the screen was the roughest scene she’d written that day: a mature woman on her knees, throat-fucking herself on a younger man’s massive cock while begging him to ruin her married cunt.

She made sure the screen faced the door.

When she padded back downstairs in nothing but the tiny black silk robe, she found exactly what she’d hoped for.

Jake stood in the dim kitchen light, one hand braced on the counter, the other wrapped around a truly enormous cock. The thick shaft glistened with spit and pre-cum as he stroked it in long, hungry pulls. His jeans were shoved down to mid-thigh. In his other hand he held her paperback—The MILF Next Door—opened to one of the filthiest chapters. His lips moved silently as he read, eyes glassy with lust.

Elena’s pussy clenched so hard she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

The young stud was completely lost in it, fisting that fat dick faster, veins standing out along his forearm. The head of his cock was swollen and purple, leaking steadily. He looked every bit the obsessed young bull she’d always fantasized about.

She stepped into the light.

Jake’s head snapped up. For a split second pure panic flashed across his handsome face. Then his gaze raked over her—tousled auburn hair, full heavy tits barely contained by silk, long legs, bare pussy lips already shining with arousal—and something primal took over.

“Fuck… Mrs. Voss,” he rasped, still holding his massive erection. “I—I can explain—”

“Don’t.” Elena’s voice was husky, dripping with need. She walked closer until she could smell his sweat and the faint musk of his cock. “You like my books, Jake?”