MILF Realtor's Hung Young Home Buyer

I never meant for it to happen. Not in the middle of an open house on a sleepy Tuesday afternoon in suburbia. But the moment Tyler walked through the front door alone, everything changed.

I’m forty-two, married for nineteen years, and the mother of two college freshmen. As a realtor, I’ve perfected the polished smile, the confident stride in my pencil skirts, and the way my silk blouses strain just enough across my heavy D-cup breasts to be tasteful but still make men look twice. My husband Mark hasn’t looked twice in years. Our sex life had dwindled to polite, obligatory encounters every six weeks that left me more frustrated than satisfied. I told myself I was fine. I told myself I was professional.

Then Tyler stepped inside.

He was twenty-two, a junior at the state university and a starting tight end on the football team. Six-foot-three, broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the kind of easy, athletic confidence that made the air feel thinner. His tight gray athletic shorts and sleeveless compression shirt did nothing to hide the fact that he was built like a Greek statue. The moment his eyes locked on mine, a slow, knowing grin spread across his handsome face.

“Damn,” he said, voice low and appreciative as he looked me up and down. “You’re the realtor?”

“Lauren,” I managed, extending my hand. His palm was huge and warm. “Welcome to the open house.”

He didn’t let go of my hand right away. “Tyler. And I have to say, Lauren, this house just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”

I laughed, the sound a little too breathy, and began the standard tour. But Tyler wasn’t interested in standard. He stayed close—too close—his body heat brushing against my back as I led him from room to room. By the time we reached the master bedroom, the tension was so thick I could barely breathe.

The bedroom was spacious, with a large king bed staged with crisp white linens and too many decorative pillows. Late afternoon sunlight poured through the tall windows, catching on the diamond of my wedding ring as I gestured toward the walk-in closet.

“Plenty of room for his-and-hers everything,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Tyler stepped up behind me, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest. “I’m not really looking for ‘his-and-hers,’” he murmured. His fingertips grazed the curve of my hip, light as a whisper. “I prefer a woman who knows exactly what she wants… even if she’s not supposed to want it.”

I should have stepped away. Instead I turned to face him. He was towering over me, and my eyes betrayed me by dropping straight to the massive, unmistakable bulge straining against the front of his shorts. It was obscene. Thick, long, and clearly not wearing underwear. My neglected pussy clenched hard at the sight.

“It’s… been a while,” I confessed before I could stop myself, my voice barely above a whisper. “Since I’ve been properly fucked, I mean. My husband… he doesn’t really see me anymore.”

Tyler’s eyes darkened with pure lust. He reached out and boldly cupped one of my heavy breasts through my blouse, thumb brushing over my instantly-hard nipple.

“I love seducing hot, neglected MILFs like you, Lauren,” he said, voice rough. “There’s nothing better than watching a married woman lose her mind on young cock. Especially when it’s as big as mine.”

His other hand slid up my thigh, pushing under the tight hem of my black pencil skirt until his fingers found the soaked lace of my panties. I gasped, trembling. The last thread of my professionalism snapped like a rubber band.

I walked to the bedroom door, locked it, and pulled the blinds.

When I turned back around, Tyler had already shoved his shorts down. His cock sprang free—nine inches of thick, veiny, upward-curving perfection, the fat head already glistening with pre-cum. My mouth watered instantly.

“On your knees, hungry MILF slut,” he growled.

I dropped so fast my knees thudded against the carpet. I didn’t even pretend to be shy. I wrapped both hands around his massive shaft—my fingers didn’t meet—and sucked the fat head into my mouth with a greedy moan. Tyler groaned above me, one big hand tangling in my perfectly styled hair as I began to worship him. I took him deeper, gagging wetly as I forced more of that young meat into my throat. Saliva poured from the corners of my mouth, dripping onto my cleavage as I bobbed and slurped like a woman possessed.

“Fuck yes,” he praised, hips rocking. “That’s it. Choke on it. I knew the second I saw you that you’d be a sloppy little cocksucker.”

I moaned around his thickness, my pussy absolutely flooding. I’d never been this wet in my life. My wedding ring glinted obscenely as I pumped the part of his shaft I couldn’t swallow, twisting my hands while I nursed the head with my tongue.

After several minutes of me desperately trying to fit every inch down my throat, Tyler pulled me up, spun me around, and bent me over the seller’s pristine bed. He yanked my pencil skirt up to my waist, ripped my soaked panties to the side, and notched that huge cock against my married entrance.

“Tell me you want it,” he demanded.

“I want it,” I whimpered. “Please, Tyler. Ruin my pussy. I need to feel young cock again.”

He drove in.

The stretch was exquisite and overwhelming. I cried out into the duvet as he sank every thick inch into me in one long, powerful stroke. My walls fluttered and clenched around him, trying to adjust to a girth I hadn’t felt in two decades. Then he started moving—deep, punishing thrusts that made my huge tits bounce heavily inside my bra.

“God, your married cunt is so fucking tight,” he groaned, gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks. “Gripping me like it never wants to let go.”

I came within the first two minutes, biting the comforter to muffle my scream as my neglected pussy spasmed wildly around his pistoning cock. He didn’t slow down. He fucked me straight through it, turning my first orgasm into a second before I’d even stopped shaking.

Then he flipped me onto my back, pushed my knees to my shoulders, and slid back inside me in missionary. The new angle let him grind against my clit with every thrust while his heavy balls slapped my ass. I stared up at his young, sculpted body, mesmerized by the sight of his thick cock disappearing into my stretched pussy again and again.

“Look at those fat tits bounce,” he panted, eyes locked on my chest. “Pull them out. I want to watch them while I wreck you.”

I frantically unbuttoned my blouse and yanked my bra down, letting my heavy, full breasts spill free. Tyler leaned down and sucked one stiff nipple into his mouth while pounding me senseless. I was babbling now—begging, cursing, telling him to ruin my married pussy, to make me his slut, to give me what my husband never could.

“Gonna cum,” he finally growled, pulling out and climbing up my body. “Open your mouth, Lauren. Take it all over that pretty face and those big tits.”

I opened wide, tongue out like a porn star. The first thick rope of cum blasted across my tongue, then another across my cheek, then powerful jets painted my heaving breasts and diamond necklace. He kept stroking that massive young cock, milking every drop onto my skin until I was glazed and dripping with him. The smell of his cum filled the staged bedroom like pure sin.

We stayed there panting for a long moment, the only sound our ragged breathing and the wet drip of his cum sliding down my tits onto the duvet.

Finally I sat up, wiped a thick strand of semen from my eyebrow with one manicured finger, and sucked it clean with a wicked little smile. Then I reached into my folder, pulled out the purchase contract, and scribbled my personal cell number across the top in big, looping numbers.

I handed it to him, still half-naked and covered in his load.

“Sign wherever you’d like, Tyler,” I said, voice husky. “And once escrow closes… I’d be more than happy to personally show you the house again. Multiple times. As many times as that big cock needs.”

Tyler smirked, tucking his still-impressive dick back into his shorts. He looked at the cum-splattered contract, then at my thoroughly fucked face, and let out a low chuckle.

“Sounds good,” he said, already heading for the door. “Just do me one favor, Lauren.”

I raised an eyebrow, still catching my breath.

“Next time,” he called over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, “maybe we don’t use the seller’s good sheets. I think I just ruined these ones with about a pint of ‘welcome to the neighborhood.’”

I looked down at the enormous wet spot beneath me, the streaks of cum all over the white duvet, and started laughing so hard my shaky legs nearly gave out.

God help me, I couldn’t wait to show him the guest room.