Owned by the Divorced MILF Next Door

She caught me staring, paddled my ass raw, then rode me until I forgot my own name

I swear to god, this is the filthiest, most addictive sex story with a milf I’ve ever lived through, and every time I think about it my cock throbs so hard it hurts.

Her name is Deborah, but to me she’ll always be Mrs. D, the divorced next-door goddess who turned forty-five last spring and looks like she’s been carved out of pure, dripping sex. Long platinum-blonde hair that falls in waves down her back, ice-blue eyes that pin you like a butterfly on a board, and a body that should be illegal: heavy, natural tits that spill over every bra she owns, a tiny waist, and the most spankable, heart-shaped ass I’ve ever seen. She’s the kind of woman who walks past in yoga pants and high heels and every guy in a fifty-foot radius forgets how to breathe.

It started the day I came home from work early. My AC was busted, ninety-eight degrees outside, and I was dying for a cold beer. I cut through her backyard like I’ve done a million times since we were kids. The gate was open, music thumping from inside, and there she was, alone by the pool in the tiniest red bikini I’ve ever seen. The triangles barely covered her nipples, and the bottom was nothing but a string disappearing between those perfect ass cheeks. She was bent over, adjusting a lounge chair, and when she straightened up and saw me she didn’t flinch. Just smiled that slow, wicked smile and said, “Well, look who decided to trespass on private property.”

I started stammering some apology, but she cut me off. “Strip. Now. You’re sweating through your shirt and I’m not having you drip on my marble.” I thought she was joking until she arched one perfect eyebrow and pointed at the deck. Something in her voice made my hands move before my brain caught up. Shirt, shoes, jeans, everything gone. I stood there in my boxers, cock already half-hard, and she looked me up and down like she was pricing a new car.

“Boxers too, sweetheart. Don’t make me ask twice.”

I obeyed. My dick sprang out, thick and aching, and she actually licked her lips. “Much better,” she purred. “Now get over here and rub lotion on Mommy’s back.”

I walked over on shaky legs. She handed me the bottle, laid face-down on the lounger, and untied her top. Those gorgeous tits spilled out to the sides, barely contained by gravity. I poured lotion into my palms and started at her shoulders, working down the perfect line of her spine. When I reached the string of her bikini bottom she reached back, hooked a thumb under it, and tugged it down just enough to expose the top of her ass crack.

“Lower, baby. Mommy’s skin burns easy.”

I was shaking. My hands slid over the fullest, smoothest ass I’ve ever touched. She sighed, pushed back against my palms, and spread her legs a little wider. I could smell her, sweet, musky arousal mixed with coconut oil. My cock was dripping precome onto the deck.

“You know,” she said, voice low and dangerous, “I’ve watched you grow up. Watched you stare at these tits every summer when you mowed my lawn. Did you think I didn’t notice you jerking off in my guest bathroom after? I heard you moan my name.”

I froze. She laughed, soft and filthy, and rolled over. The bikini top fell away completely. Her nipples were thick, pink, and rock-hard. She grabbed my wrist, guided my hand between her legs. The fabric there was soaked through.

“Feel that? That’s what you do to me. Been wet for you for years, you little pervert.”

Then she sat up, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked me down to my knees between her thighs. “But good boys who want to play with a woman like me have to earn it. And you, sweetheart, have been very, very bad, staring at a married woman’s body, coming in my house without permission, getting hard just from looking at me.”

Her hand cracked across my ass before I could blink. Hard. The sting shot straight to my balls and I yelped. She did it again, harder, and I felt my cock jerk and leak.

“You’re going to take your punishment like a big boy,” she whispered, “and if you’re very good, Mommy will let you put that young cock somewhere it’s been dreaming about for years.”

She stood up, dragged me by the hair into the house, and bent me over the kitchen island. The marble was cold against my chest. She disappeared for a second and came back with a thick leather paddle. My heart was hammering so hard I could hear it.

The first real hit took my breath away. Fire exploded across my ass. The second made me moan like a slut. By the fifth I was pushing back for more, tears in my eyes, cock dripping onto her perfect hardwood floor. She spanked me until my skin burned crimson, until I was babbling apologies and begging please Mrs. D I’ll be good I’ll do anything.

Only then did she drop the paddle, spread my burning cheeks with both hands, and drag her tongue slow and wet from my balls all the way up to my hole. I nearly came on the spot. She laughed against my skin. “Not yet, baby. Mommy hasn’t had her fun.”

She pushed me to the floor, straddled my face, and lowered that perfect, dripping milf pussy onto my mouth. I ate her like I was dying, tongue fucking her, sucking her swollen clit, drinking every drop while she ground down hard, smothering me in wet heat. She came twice, thighs shaking around my head, screaming my name so loud I was scared the neighbors would hear.

When she finally climbed off, she was glowing, lips swollen, eyes feral. She grabbed my aching cock, stroked once, twice, then sank down onto it in one brutal motion. No condom. Nothing between us. Just raw, hot, divorced-neighbor pussy swallowing me to the root.

We fucked like animals. She rode me on the kitchen floor, tits bouncing in my face, ordering me to suck her nipples hard while she slammed down again and again. Then she bent over the same island where she’d just paddled me and told me to wreck her. I did. Grabbed those red hand-printed hips and pounded her so hard the marble creaked. Every thrust made her moan louder, filthier, begging me to use her harder, to bruise her, to mark her as mine.

I spun her around, lifted her onto the counter, wrapped her legs around my waist and fucked her deep and slow while we kissed like we were trying to devour each other. She clawed my back, bit my shoulder, whispered every dirty secret she’d kept for years: how she fingered herself listening to me mow the lawn, how she wore the skimpiest outfits on purpose, how she’d dreamed of bending me over and spanking me raw before riding me until neither of us could walk.

I came first, couldn’t hold it, exploded so deep inside her I saw stars. She kept rocking, milking every drop, then slid down to her knees and sucked me clean while I was still twitching. The taste of both of us on her tongue made her moan like a whore.

That was just round one.

We spent the entire weekend locked in that house. She kept me naked the whole time, collared with one of her silk robes tied around my neck. She spanked me every morning “to keep me in line,” then fucked me until I couldn’t see straight. Couch, shower, her king-size bed that still smelled faintly of her ex-husband, the staircase, even the backyard at 2 a.m. while the sprinklers soaked us both. She made me eat her ass on the dining table where she used to host book club. Made me beg to come inside her while she edged me for an hour with just her tongue.

By Sunday night my ass was purple, my back scratched to hell, and I’d lost count of how many times I’d filled her. She laid on my chest, tracing the bite marks she left on my shoulder, and whispered, “You’re mine now, baby. Every time you see me watering the flowers in that little sundress, you’ll remember who owns this cock.”

And fuck, she’s right.

This milf didn’t just fuck me. She ruined me for anyone else. And I can’t wait for the next time she decides I’ve been a bad boy who needs his ass beat red before he gets to bury himself balls-deep in mommy’s perfect cunt again.

Best. Sex story. Ever. And it’s only the beginning.