Novel & Cerita Mature Mistress

“I’m your mistress tonight. My master and I have come to play. Are you ready?” “Yes, Mistress,” he replies, voice heavy with longing. I bend forward, displaying my cleavage, smiling as Adam growls softly at the sight of my bare pussy beneath my short skirt. Both males become noticeably aroused, heightening my own excitement. I take a seat facing my slave, intentionally exposing my soaked pussy, tracing my fingers teasingly along my thighs. “Your paperwork says you enjoy sensation play and bondage. Is that correct?” “Yes, Mistress,” he breathes, eyes fixed on my movements.

.Adam wondered if there was a place in this damned place where there was no act of carnality going on. He almost groaned in frustration and weariness as he stepped into the large room where Priscillia was leisurely reclining on a leather chair. The Mistress as she wished to be called was not the only one in the room. There were other men who were collared and naked with sweat dripping off their bodies as they pounded several young women with their cocks from the back.

She assumed what could be called a display position, except she put her hands on her hips instead of behind her head. "Ladies and gentlemen," I began the auction, "up for sale first is a young black woman, forged on the mean streets of Fresno, a Mistress herself, owner of a male slave, Sean, but wishing to experience what it would be like to be sold to service others, has offered herself for one sex act per hole this evening under the usual rules, fifteen minutes or orgasm, whichever comes last. As you can see for yourself, she's a prime female in excellent condition who is relatively new to sex for pleasure, only having willingly offered her body for sex since January, when she acquired her

he said, sternly. My smile disappeared. I looked at him with great contempt. "What's that, please?" I didn't like the suspense. I just wish he could notice and talk quicker. I pray it won't be too bad. He grinned from ear to ear and then looked intently at me. "You'll be my mistress." He dropped the bombshell. 'Well, not too bad,' I thought. After all, I knew how to do all a mistress does. I could wash, I could clean, I could… But then, does he really need a mistress?

I clenched my fists, the memory igniting my anger afresh. “He offered to ‘settle’ my debts with Victor. Said he would make them disappear if I agreed to be his mistress for a year.” The word burned on my tongue. “Like I’m some whore he can buy.” Lila whistled, leaning back against the counter, her robe slipping to reveal more of her thigh. “Damn, girl. That’s a bold move, even for him.” She sipped her whiskey, her eyes narrowing. “You should take it.” I stared at her, stunned. “What?”

How dare he think he could control me again? I was not going to be a mistress for the second time! I was Aria Jenn…the designer. I was not thesame pitiful secretary from years ago. I was back, and I was better. “Stay the hell away from me.” I finally warned after a moment of silence, blinking away my tears. I was not going to cry in front of him. Silence reigned, I could tell he was surprised by my sudden lash out. I did not even bother to look at him–I just turned and left. I did not know where I had gotten the courage from, perhaps from the alcohol?

The wet sounds of my mouth on her, the slap of my hips, her nails digging into my back while she moaned like a dirty slut for me. My fist pumped faster. Pre-cum poured from the slit, dripping onto the bathroom floor in thick strings. I spat into my palm and stroked harder, the slick, sound of it filling the small room. I thought about how her pussy used to grip me, hot and already soaked, clenching every time I bottomed out. How she’d beg for it deeper, harder, while those perfect tits bounced with every thrust. I wanted to paint them. Wanted to come all over those soft mounds, watch my cum drip down the valley between them, smear it into her skin until she was shiny and marked.

“Now ride him. His face. While he’s still soaked.” Liane dropped, mounted Gabriel’s face, and cried out as his tongue found her again. Mistress sat back on the throne and spread her legs. “All of you. Watch me cum.” They did. Her fingers circled her clit, slow, precise. She watched Liane tremble, watched Eren sag, watched Gabriel give every last bit of himself. Then Mistress threw her head back and moaned — low, guttural, victorious. Her orgasm rolled through the room like thunder.

“Fill my coffee with your sweet mommy milk like the filthy leaking whore you are. Fuck, you’re gushing so much.” My pussy clenched hard with every pull and squeeze, dripping onto the chair beneath me. The moans tore out of me uncontrollably—raw, high-pitched, desperate. “Harder! Suck it—drink my milk while you make your coffee dirty. Oh god, I’m leaking so much for you! Use my tits… milk them dry!” My hips rocked wildly in the chair, seeking any friction as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter.

I’d been stuck in this bloody Bolt car since early morning, and my pussy was already throbbing with frustration. At 41 years old, I’m a proper thick British MILF — curvy hips, a fat juicy arse, and a massive pair of 36DD tits that were barely contained by my tight white tank top. Every time I hit the brakes, my hard nipples rubbed against the fabric, making me even wetter. The app pinged. New passenger waiting outside Covent Garden Market. When she climbed into the back seat, my mouth went dry.