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  • Ms. Mia and Me Ch. 01

Ms. Mia and Me Ch. 01

12

Just a quickie, probably first in a series. Contains femdom, cheating, foot fetish and CFNM. If these elements are not to your taste, please don't waste your time telling me as much.

That said, enjoy!

*****

You see, the thing was - staring down at my laptop all the time was kinking up my neck something fierce.

That summer, my girlfriend Kara and I had decided to stagger our vacations such that her time off and mine only overlapped by a week. This arrangement was ostensibly so that I could get around to doing some stuff around the house that I'd been promising to get to - repaint some of the baseboards, clean out behind the stove, refinish a table - but in practice, the first thing I was doing every morning after the door shut behind my girlfriend was opening up my laptop for a nice, long, lazy wank.

It's not that Kara couldn't keep me satisfied or that we didn't have sex often enough or anything; it was just that I was 25, and had some time to myself, one thing led to another, and nature took its course. Consequently, I was probably masturbating a few hours a day, staring at porn on my laptop as it whirred away in the summer heat. The bottom of the computer would get uncomfortable, especially as the July days blazed away outside, but it was really when I started to notice my neck hurting that I decided to do something about it.

"Something" turned out to be a fairly kluge-y solution whereby I'd torrent a selection of porn movies overnight while Kara and I slept in the next room, put the most promising of them on a USB stick, jam that into the game console under our TV, and enjoy myself at full HD on our 55-inch TV.

On that particular day, I was two or three movies deep into my queue, shirtless and sprawled out on the couch, shorts around my ankles while I stroked my cock. On the TV, a luscious blonde was kneeling between the legs of some faceless porn stud, quietly moaning and enthusiastically describing what she was going to do to his cock. Sweaty and rock-hard, I didn't dare any full strokes, lest the party ended too soon; instead, I held the base between thumb and forefinger and lightly slapped my cock against my bare stomach, plum head bouncing off my abs.

The blonde was just wrapping her lips around her co-stars thickness when somebody knocked on the front door. Three sharp raps. I froze, heart in my throat. Maybe if I just stayed *very* still, they'd go away of their own accord. The knocking came again, and the sickening realization that I could hear the sound coming from both inside and outside the house stole over me. Eyes wide, I glanced over at the windows; a single breath of hot summer wind stirred the curtains, then petered out.

"Holy shit!" I scrambled for the remote, trying to yank my shorts up with one hand and jam on the 'MUTE' button with the other. Whoever was at the door knocked again.

"Hang on! I'm coming!" TV safely muted, I hit pause on the console just for that extra layer of security, and stood up, struggling with my belt as I did. Outside, a dog barked. "Hang on, hang on!" I got it buckled through the first hole I found, rushing for the door, heart pounding in my chest. "I'm coming, I'm com-"

A tall woman stood on the other side of the door, an equally long-limbed Great Dane seated beside her. Her jet-black hair was pulled through a bright white ballcap, cascading down her back in a long, straight, shimmery curtain, dusting around slim, olive-skinned shoulders that showed every sign of having been sculpted in a gym somewhere. Her turquoise halter-top contrasted with the deep colour of her skin, bright technical fabric skimming closely along her trim form, compressing her breasts into a uniform bulge above her taut stomach; the hem came to just above her navel, where a silver ring sparkled in the sun. From there, it was a long hop to the zebra-striped compression shorts that were stretched tightly across the broad sweep of her hips, the inseam only fractionally long enough to make them shorts and not simply panties. Though she stood with her legs together, a shaft of light shone through a keyhole gap between her thighs, where lean, sculpted muscle bunched on down to her knees, past which the plates of her calves rippled beneath smooth dark skin. On her feet, she wore a pair of flip-flops, revealing a bright nail polish that matched her top, and a tattoo of an intricate Aztec lizard, its head biting her left ankle, the tail sliding down between her big toe and the next.

From under the brim of the hat, cool green eyes took me in, and I was very aware that I wasn't wearing a shirt.

I recognized her almost immediately; after all, we saw her practically every day, walking her dog, going for a run, or both. Kara noticed because of the dog, I noticed because of her penchant for day-glo running outfits and brightly-printed compression leggings. She was older than us, we'd decided, maybe early forties ,though it didn't show much except in some creases around her mouth, and the crinkled smile-lines around her eyes.

"Um- hi?" I offered.

"What's going on in here?" She asked, crossing her arms under her breasts, pushing them up. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, nothing?" I said. "Nothing at all, just hanging out, trying to ignore the heat." I tried a friendly smile but it didn't quite work out.

"Nonsense," the woman said, putting one foot inside the door. I stretched my arms across the doorframe in a clumsy attempt to block entry. "I'm sure I heard a woman being slapped in here."

"Whoa, wow." My eyebrows shot up, and I could feel the blood draining from my face. "Definitely nothing like that going on, I promise you."

"Well, I don't think you'd tell me if you *were* beating up your girlfriend in here, would you?" Her eyebrows furrowed, and she set her mouth in a line, which was a difficult feat for such pillowy lips.

"Trust me," I said, emphatically. "I am definitely *not* beating anybody up in here." She stepped inside my arms and suddenly her face was very close to mine. She smelled faintly floral; Kara used the same deodorant.

"Prove it," she insisted.

"Prove it? How am I gonna prove-"

"Let me in and I'll see for myself." The hand that wasn't holding the leash pressed against my chest. Her nails were long and colored to match her toes. "Or I can call the cops, I guess."

"Lady, there's nothing going on in here, I swear."

"Brutus," she said in a low voice. Two hundred pounds of canine unfolded itself on my front step and set up a growl that was so deep it was almost subsonic.

"Okay. Fine," I said, relenting. She swept past me into the house; Brutus stopped growling and trotted after her, nails clicking on the laminate floor. Seconds later, it dawned on me that she was heading straight for the living room.

"Hey! Wait! Wait!" I rushed after this imperious woman, only to find her standing in the middle of the living room, eyes on the TV as a bemused look crossed her face. Brutus sat at her feet, panting in the summer swelter. On-screen, the image of the blonde hung frozen, lips drawn outward as she slurped on somebody's fat cock.

"I see," she said.

"Exactly," I said, with a nervous laugh. "Nobody getting slapped. Just me and-"

"-and your hand." The woman laughed. "Is this what you get up to when your girlfriend's at work? She must not be very satisfactory in the bedroom."

"Hey," I said, puffing up my chest. "That's not what it's about."

"No?" She asked, arching an eyebrow. "Tell me: how long did you wait to put on this...filth...after your girlfriend left for work? Was it 'about' five minutes? Less?" I didn't reply, but the heat rising in my face spoke on my behalf, and she laughed again. "I thought as much. You young men are all the same: just looking for the next five minute break when you can touch yourself. Especially if your partner doesn't quite do it for you. You've got to find release somewhere, don't you?"

"I think it's time for you to go," I said. "I showed you what was happening, there's nobody in trouble here, you should definitely leave. Now."

"Wrong on all counts," she swept off her ball cap, tossing it into a nearby armchair. "You haven't shown me anything, *some*body is very much in trouble, and I decide when I come and go, thank you very much."

"Lady," I began, and took a single step in her direction. Brutus' bass tone rumble stopped me mid-stride.

"See?" She said. "Brutus agrees with me, don't you honey?" The Dane barked, once.

"I don't understand any of this," I said. "I don't even know your name! What do you want?"

"For the moment," she said, seating herself in the armchair. "You may call me Ms. Mia, or Ms. for short." Mia crossed her legs at the knee, letting her flip-flop dance on her toes. "As for what I want, I think I was very clear on that point: I want to know what you were doing in here. Show me."

"What?" I said, incredulous. "You want me to-" I gestured vaguely with my hand.

"You heard me. I want to see exactly what you were doing."

"And if I don't?"

Mia shrugged. "Then we can sit here and wait until your girlfriend comes home and explain this all to her. I'm sure that will be a *lot* of fun for you. Otherwise, I don't think trying to kick us out is a particularly good idea." Brutus walked around in a circle, then laid down next to the chair. Mia rested one hand on the dog's head.

I looked at them both, feeling helpless. She waved her hand at me. "Go on. Show me."

I sat back down on the couch. Picking up the remote, I unmuted the TV, then unpaused the movie. The blonde carried on with her work, and the room filled up with the obscene wet sounds of her head bobbing up and down the veiny shaft onscreen.

"I'm waiting," Mia said.

Reluctantly, I slid my hand under the waistband of my shorts and-

"Wait!" I pulled it out again. "I'm *sure*," she said, "that you were not wearing *those*. Lose the shorts, please."

"Lady. Mia." She scowled. "*Ms.* Mia, I can't just sit here naked with you-"

"You can and you will," she said with an imperious toss of her head, paying little attention to the action onscreen. "I know how much you young men like letting it all hang out. Now, do as I say: shorts. Off."

With a resigned sigh, I unbuckled the belt, and undid the catch. I could feel her gaze on me as I did, eyeing my naked form.

"See?" She said. "That wasn't so hard, was it? And I must say - your little girlfriend is quite the lucky lady. Strapping young men like you don't settle for girls like that every day. Now. Begin."

I thought about saying something in Kayla's defense, but decided against it. Better to just get this done and over with, fast. I grabbed the base of my flaccid cock, and began to stroke, trying to keep my eyes on the TV, and not let them stray to the attractive older woman seated not five feet away.

"That's better," Mia cooed. "Slow it down. You don't want to hurt yourself, do you?" Despite myself, my hand slowed down some as I felt some of the blood begin to flow back into it, swelling up in my fist. "Good. Good. Just like that. Lean back so I can see it, now." In the corner of my vision, her foot bobbed up and down. I grunted, and refocused on the movie.

On screen, the plush blonde was rubbing a spitslick cock over her face, smearing her artfully-done makeup. She purred and grinned for the camera.

"Oh my," Mia said, "somebody's certainly enjoying herself, isn't she? Has your little girlf-"

"Kara," I corrected her.

"Your little girlfriend ever done that for you? Given you a sloppy, wet blowjob? Worshipped your thick young cock with her mouth? Rubbed it all over her face while telling you how much she loves it?" I didn't answer. In my hand, my cock had swollen back up to full hardness. "No, I bet she hasn't. I've seen your girlfriend, leaving for work in the morning, she looks very...prim. I bet there's not a nasty bone in her body, and it looks like her body is mostly bone. Not like our friend here," Mia gestured at the TV.

"She looks a bit more, shall we say, ripe to me? Mature." The blonde was slapping the cock against her pursed lips, now, whispering encouragement to her co star. "What is this movie?"

I grunted, then in a ragged voice, "Moth- Mother Blows Best. Five."

Mia laughed and clapped her hands. "Oh my. You have a taste for MILFs? You poor boy." On the TV the woman was standing, all thick, ripe curves. She turned around, presenting her booty to the camera; she slapped her ass with the cock.

"What- what do you mean?" I asked.

"You'll never be satisfied with your little Kayla now," Mia said, laughing.

"Kara," I corrected her.

"Whatever." She waved a dismissive hand. "Once a young man like yourself has a taste for MILFs, there's no getting over it. It's addictive, for a cock like yours. You'll never stop wondering what a woman like that," she waved at the TV, "could do to you that a girl like Kayla can't. Look at her. A woman, a real woman in her sexual prime is a machine, designed and refined by nature for one purpose: fucking. A mature pussy is ripe and ready in ways that some young slip of a thing simply isn't."

"That's not true," I argued. "Kara's perfect. I love her."

"Of course you do, honey." She laughed. "That's what makes it all the worse. You love her, but you'll never be able to get mature women out of your head, you'll never stop thinking about them, filling up your fantasies with them, making yourself so weak for the advances of the first lucky cougar who decides to take you away from her. You'll hate yourself for it, but your cock won't let you enjoy her the same way ever again."

"Stop talking about her!" I insisted, fisting my cock faster now.

"Sure," Mia said with a shrug. "But shouldn't you be watching your movie instead of looking at me?" During her speech, I realized I'd been staring at her, eyes locked onto the vast expanse of smooth brown skin left exposed by her tiny booty shorts. "After all, I'm not the one sucking cock with such enthusiasm; I'm not the one who's ass is riding some thick pornstar cock; I'm just sitting here, enjoying the show. Aren't you?"

I didn't reply, just turned back towards the TV, where the blonde's meaty asscheeks were rippling with the impact of each thrust as she fucked herself into her costar. The smack of flesh on flesh filled the room.

"That's not the sound you were making up here," she said, after a moment. "What were you doing to make it?"

"Slapping it," I grunted. "Slapping my cock against my stomach."

"Do it," Mia said. "Show me." Leaning further back into the couch, I began lightly tapping my throbbing cockhead against my rigid abdominals, keeping time with the porn on the television. "Harder." The bitten command sent a thrill through me that I scarcely dared to admit; being told what to do, having this older woman watching me, instructing me, was thrilling. It felt so taboo, so forbidden.

"That's it," Mia said. "That's what I heard." She recrossed her legs. "You can stop now if you want. Do you want to stop?" Some part of my brain wanted to scream out 'yes!' and tell her to get the hell out of my house, our house. But each time my cockhead smacked against my stomach, that voice got pushed further and further back.

"No," I grunted. "Please don't make me stop."

"It's addictive, isn't it?" She said, laughing. "Doing what you're told is addictive. Obeying a superior, mature woman is addictive."

"It feels good," the words rushed out of me. "So fucking good."

"I was right," Mia said. "You *are* in trouble." I shuddered and slapped my cock harder. "Come here," she said, beckoning me with a curled finger. I fairly leapt off the couch, crossing the space between us in a bound.

"My. That does look hard, doesn't it?" My cock was on a level with her cool green gaze. "Has Kayla ever made you this hard before?" I shook my head, and she said. "No, I thought not. If she knew it got as big as this, I doubt she'd even let it near her, would she? Little thing like that, I'm sure she finds it intimidating." Mia leaned in close, inspecting my quivering rod. I could feel her breath, cool against my heated skin.

"You must be simply *aching* to cum, aren't you?" I nodded, frantic, half thinking the breeze from her mouth might pull my trigger. "Well. I don't think you're going to fuck anybody today. You haven't earned that privilege yet, especially after your behaviour at the door." The frustrated groan her words pulled out of my throat felt like it came from the very depths of my libido. "But I *do* want to see how hard that thing is. Kneel."

"What?" I said, dazed with arousal and excitement and the thrill of the forbidden.

"Please don't make me repeat myself," she gestured at the floor in front of her chair. Brutus looked on, not particularly interested, content to wait until Mia had finished her business in my living room. Looking back at this strange woman who'd taken over my life for the moment, I did as she asked, and got down on my knees in front of her. "Hands behind your back, please. You haven't earned the right to touch me, not after lying to me in the porch, and I'm afraid I don't much trust your sense of self-control." I folded my arms behind the small of my back, grasping each elbow in the opposite hand; I suddenly felt more vulnerable than ever here, naked, kneeling, this imperious older woman directing me with hardly any resistance on my part. Brutus was an obvious, unspoken threat, but more than that I was more excited than I'd ever been, harder than I'd ever been.

"See?" She said. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?" With a flick of one ankle, a flip-flop clattered to the floor.

In all honesty, I'd never been a foot guy. Foot guys are kind of weird. But kneeling there, looking at Mia's tattooed foot, skin looking so utterly buttery, smooth, watching her wriggle and flex her turquoise-painted toes, her wrinkled soles so sweetly pink and fleshy, I had to admit I found it searingly fucking hot. I assumed it was the heat of the moment. And so, when she raised her foot and pressed her big toe against the tip of my cock, pressing against my hardness like she was working a clutch, I couldn't bite back the gasp or repress the shudder that thrilled through me.

"Mmm yes," Mia said, as though she were inspecting a piece of furniture. "That *is* quite hard, isn't it?" She dragged her big toe down the head until it slid off, snapping up again as she let the top of her foot slide in underneath the shaft. "You must be simply *aching*. Would you like Ms. Mia to make you cum, darling boy?" She pulled her velvety-soft foot upwards against my cock, letting her nails scratch lightly against the skin.

"Yes," I mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that?" She leaned forward, cupping an ear. "Remember to ask nicely, dear." Her big toe pressed hard against my leaky cock.

"Please make me cum, M- *Ms.* Mia," I said, remembering to call her by the right name.

"Oh I don't know," she said, scrunching her toes, clasping my cock tight. The dragon on her foot flexed its muscles. "Are you sure you shouldn't just wait 'til what's her name - Karla? - gets home?" The tip of my shaft slipped easily in between her toes as she teased around the crown. At her feet, my body quivered.

"Please," I said, as she twisted her foot and I struggled to stay upright. "Please make me cum, Ms. Mia."

"You're sure?" She said, kicking off her other flip-flop. Mia's other foot rose up under my shaft, holding it steady. "You'll have to do something for me in return, and you might not like it." She sandwiched my cock between her feet and began to stroke, little light movements.

"Ah!" I gasped. "Yes, yes I'm sure! Anything. Just please let me cum."

"Young men," Mia sighed and shook her head. "Always so impatient." Her toes scrunched over the head again, squeezing it against the nails of her other foot, and I poured every ounce of energy I had into resisting the urge to grab her smooth leg. Her top foot started making tiny circles. "Of course if you're sure, I certainly don't mind doing you the favour. I mean, it's not as if little Kayla would be up to the task anyway; we already established that she simply wouldn't know what to do with you when you're *this* hard, haven't we?" Her toenails looked like little blue chiclets, bobbing on my cock. "No, I suppose it's just as well that a real woman do the job." Mia held one foot steady while the other slid back and forth, grinding my glans.

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