Category: MILF

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

The garden was a kaleidoscope of pastel eggs, yet an unmistakable stench was wafting over the tulips like a mischievous cloud of teen rebellion. “Cory, do you smell that?” Felicity whispered, the same way a detective would whisper about a clue in a noir film. I inhaled deeply, feeling the pungent aroma coil around my nostrils. We both knew that somewhere among the plastic toy eggs hid the source of this olfactory offense.

I never thought an Easter egg hunt could turn into a forensic diaper investigation but there we were. Both Felicity and I were swaddled in our favorite sexy “Mama” dresses and armed with nothing but our noses and an absurdly over‑ambitious sense of duty. We started at the base of the old oak tree and followed the scent trail like a pair of highly trained sleuths. Each step brought us closer to a whiff of something that could only be described as “rotten booty.”

Continue reading “that unmistakable stench almost ruined the Easter egg hunt” →

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It’s no secret that my titties have their own zip code. I’ve learned to live with the constant stares, the unsolicited advice, and even the occasional “Do you need a forklift?” joke from people who assume my back hurts (news flash – only sometimes).

Enter Jake. I met him at a low‑key art opening, where I was pretending to admire a landscape painting but was actually scrolling through memes on my phone. He knocked over a glass of rosé, apologized, and then asked if I’d like to join him for a coffee. He seemed nice enough at first glance and I’m not one to say no to someone who can turn a clumsy moment into a witty one, so I said yes.

Continue reading “It’s no secret that my titties have their own zip code” →

 

Mary – 1844-332-2639 x 350 

I had been spending so much time with my students, teaching them all types of naughty things, that I needed a much-needed break. Since my husband was still away on business, probably slipping his cock in his secretary, I decided to have a spa day and retreat at home. When I arrived back home from the spa, I noticed my new neighbors settling in. Their son, who looks like he’s barely legal, seems to enjoy watching me. Today, as I pulled into the driveway, I could feel someone looking at me. Lo and behold, there he was, in his shorts with a clearly visible erection.

Continue reading “Much Needed Break” →

Mary the MILF Milker

Mary 1844-332-2639 ext 350 

 Volunteering at the library on campus has become my favorite obsession. Milking the fact that I had become all the student’s favorite volunteer. They loved having someone with experience available to them, ready and willing to teach them anything they needed to learn. I was even popular among the girls as well. In fact, I have 2 regulars that cum visit me frequently. They were a little curious about being lesbians because they came from such strict families and needed some private guidance on how to please one another. I booked a private study room on the 5th floor of the library tucked away in the corner. The fifth floor was rarely accessed by students, as it primarily consisted of older books and archived materials. We mostly used the fifth floor for storage as well. We walked in, and I locked the door. The lighting was already dim, so I told the girls to undress, and they obliged. I instructed them on how to touch one another, sensually, intimately. They had been practicing with me for weeks and wanted to show me what they had learned.

Continue reading “Mary The MILF Milker” →

sea men

Posted 3 months ago by Cory

sailors

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

My obsession with sailors and “sea men” began, as all great historical follies do, with a documentary about the Age of Exploration. I found myself utterly mesmerized not by the intrepid captains or the promise of new worlds, but by the burly, salt-crusted men swabbing decks in the background.

There was something about the coiled energy in their forearms and the way their necks met the rough wool of their pea coats. As I’ve always believed, a man who can tie a bowline knot under pressure is a man who could, you know, do a lot of “other” things with equal, competent grace.

Continue reading “sea men” →

Mary – 1844-332-2639 x 350

I decided to volunteer at the campus library last week, and I’m so glad I did. I ended up making new memories. It started out as a quiet evening. I had decided to stay late since my bed is so cold with my husband always gone. The campus library at night has a way of making me feel warm and cozy. I also really love helping the Freshmen find their way around. The library is so big and had so many places to hideaway. Every nook was filled with comfort and privacy. I often found myself daydreaming about doing unspeakable things to some of the college students I met there. Even though I volunteer there, I see how the guys on the football team look at me. They even call me a MILF; I secretly enjoy the playful banter.

Continue reading “Creating Memories that Can’t be Filmed” →

big tits

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

There was a time when I’d try to wear loose-fitting clothes to minimize the attention, but it seemed like the more I tried to hide them, the more my giant tits seemed to, well, bulge out. I’d get comments from strangers, some of whom would be kind enough to offer me “helpful” advice on how to reduce their size (and others who, um, offered to test their firmness as if I couldn’t see their boners growing in their pants).

One of the most memorable experiences I had was during a family vacation to the beach. I opted for a bright pink bikini with a built-in bra, which seemed like a good idea at the time (spoiler alert: it wasn’t). As I was applying sunscreen, I noticed a group of guys staring at me from a nearby beach umbrella. That was when my quick-witted brother jumped in and started doing a play-by-play commentary of the scene, complete with over-the-top sports announcer voice and ridiculous sound effects.

Continue reading “Attention to Titties” →

potty abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Kevin hadn’t “pottied” in three days. THREE DAYS. He claimed he was “saving up for a big one.” I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but let’s just say I know now. And I’d rather not discuss it over dinner. When I finally cornered him in the living room, surrounded by crumpled diapers like a hoarder’s confession, he gave me those big eyes and whispered “I wike diapers, Cory.” Try as I might, he really didn’t want to use the potty.

Changing him was always a challenge. Last time, he flopped dramatically onto the changing mat I laid out and whined that the powder irritated his “tushie sensors.” I’m not kidding. Actual phrase. I tried to stay professional, like a diaper-disposal Navy SEAL, but then he giggled and let one rip simultaneously while I had his legs in the air, and I lost it. I mean, I didn’t get angry or anything. Instead, I laughed like a maniac, which only encouraged him to do it again. Sigh.

Continue reading “Kevin hadn’t “pottied” in three days.” →

upside down abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

It started when the power went out. Flickering lights, the fridge groaning, right as I was tucking Benny into his bed. “Mama Cory, was that thunder?” he whispered, wide-eyed, clutching a stuffed waffle toy. I smoothed his hair, adjusted his thick pull-up, and said, “No, baby. Just the flux capacitor acting up again.” I wasn’t sure what I meant, but it sounded sci-fi enough to soothe him.

As the basement lightbulb popped with a suspicious snap, I told my boy to stay put, kissed him on the forehead, and grabbed my glow-in-the-dark taser (which, admittedly, was just a repurposed sex toy). Armed with maternal instinct, I descended the stairs into the dark, humming the theme song to my favorite show as a way to stay focused.

Continue reading “Flickering lights” →

abdl

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

I came home to the scent of overcooked sugar and something suspiciously like chocolate melted on the stovetop. “Liam?” I called, dropping my keys with a clatter, already bracing myself. What I found in the kitchen stopped me mid-sigh. There was flour dusted on every surface like powdered snowfall, eggshells were floating in a bowl like tiny ceramic rafts, and my grown-up baby, wearing nothing but footed pajamas and a look of proud guilt, was standing knee-deep in spilled sprinkles.

He had clearly attempted to make Christmas cookies. It was a noble effort, really, but whatever recipe he used had devolved into what looked like a science experiment gone rogue. A lopsided dough monster clung to the counter, a measuring cup was stuck on his head like a helmet, and my (VERY EXPENSIVE) mixer lay on its side, still twitching with post-beating aftershocks.

Continue reading “the scent of overcooked sugar” →