My hubby and I share one great passion, making love to other people. But whereas he likes women his own age, I like fit, young men who appreciate what an older woman can give them. According to popular culture that makes me a MILF. I like being a MILF.
“I can only have you over during the day .. if you want to be of service to me.”
I could almost hear his mind ticking as he wondered if this was some kind of elaborate wind up by his immature friends or a genuinely mad-for-it older woman.
“Give me your address, I’ll be over tomorrow at three,” he said with a faint croak in his voice.
He’s due in ten minutes and I’ll let you know what happens.
I am not one of those women who hides her lusts or tries to disguise them behind a reaction to an uncaring husband. I am a healthy woman who revels in my sexuality and am perfectly aware of how desirable I am. I know that lots of young men want me and sometimes I give myself to them. I offer no excuses and I seek no absolution, when I get horny some young guy is going to get it and get it good. Most appreciate it and are very grateful for what I give them.
Carl and I have had an open marriage almost since we got married and have no regrets about the lifestyle we have chosen. My name is Nicole, I am a 38 years old Englishwoman and I have two children, Bea (10) and Christopher (12). I am 5’ 6” tall with light brown hair and grey eyes. I have a good body, slim with a decent pair of boobs, a nice bum and long legs.
Strictly speaking MILFS appeal to teenage boys but, though I’m not totally averse to them, I prefer my lovers to be in their 20s, so perhaps I am a cougar or a yummy mummy, rather than a MILF. I don’t care, as long as I get my pussy fucked plenty.
So, this diary. It’s for Carl, partly because he wants to know what I get up to, but also because he’s in digital publishing looking for book ideas and also because I’ve always wanted to write. Carl told me I should write about things I have knowledge about, so the obvious subject is my sex life.
What Carl really wants to know is the thought processes that lie behind my lust for younger men, the drives behind being a MILF, but I think that would make for pretty dry reading, so you’ll be getting some description of events along with the analysis. Carl tends to have one-night stands with his lovers but I like to make a fling last a little longer. At least a week or two and maybe half a dozen sexual encounters, so I can get to know my sexual partners properly. I understand the excitement that a one-off engagement can generate and am not averse to a quickie, which can actually get me off, but given the option I’d prefer a nice, long. relaxed encounter where I can indulge myself.
I don’t expect this to be a best-seller or anything, so don’t expect great literature, but I’ll try my best.
I plan to have this diary cover a chunk of my life and I’ll release it in instalments so you can judge if it’s worth reading about my adventures.
Okay, deep breath, here goes.
My current target is Derek and I met him yesterday. He was working in the PC store when I took my laptop in to be looked at. I’m well used to being stared at by horny guys but Derek took it a stage further by trying to look up my skirt as he was bending down to get parts from a cupboard. I knew right away that he was a naughty boy, but I wasn’t really out cock hunting as I’d just broken up with Frank and it usually took me a week or two before I started getting the itch again. I wondered about whether I should give him a smile of encouragement or just forget about it, but deep in my heart knew that I couldn’t resist. Was this the sluttish part of my make-up, that I could never say no to a man if he made his intentions clear? His eyes, gazing at my legs had been very appreciative and as he stood up I saw that he had the most gorgeous eyelashes. If I’d been younger my heart would have fluttered, instead I felt my pussy twitch.
“I have a bunch of computers at home that are always giving me trouble and I’m looking for somebody to look after them for me. Would you be interested?”
He looked wary, so I added, “I’d pay you well.”
“The company can give you a maintenance plan,” he answered, glancing over at an older guy I assumed was his boss.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, scribbling down my phone number and passing it to him with a wink. He got the message and phoned me a couple of hours later.
“It would have to be after work,” he said, “maybe about seven.”
“That wouldn’t be convenient, my children will be home then.” Was he a fool? Did he think I needed computers fixed?
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