Chapter 1: The Invitation
The summer heat clung to my skin as I stood on Lori’s porch, my heart thumping with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Lori was a woman who commanded attention—thick thighs that spoke of strength, curves that could stop traffic, and a gaze that could unravel you in seconds. When she opened the door, her smirk was a weapon, sharp and knowing. 'Why don’t you come in, darling? We can talk. I’m sure it’ll help,' she purred, her voice dripping with promise as she closed the door behind me with a deliberate click.
We sat at her kitchen table, the air between us buzzing with unspoken tension. Small talk danced around us—weather, the neighborhood, trivial nonsense—until Lori leaned forward, her eyes glinting with mischief. 'Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we? I see the way you look at me. And I know about Oeti. The panty lines on your face don’t lie, sweetheart. I know she’s been sitting on you every time you came over. Like mother, like daughter.' Her words sliced through me, but before I could stammer a defense, she continued, her tone velvet over steel. 'Admit it, and I can help you. After all...' Her index finger traced a slow, teasing line down my cheek, sending a shiver through me. 'It’s not every day I get to sit on such a cute young face.'
I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, but she wasn’t done. 'All summer, as much as you like, I’ll park myself right on that pretty face of yours. I *love* sitting on faces.' Her laugh was low, wicked, as she stood, her hand closing around mine with a grip that brooked no argument. 'Come on, don’t play shy now.' She tugged me toward her bedroom, and I followed, helpless under the weight of her confidence.
In her room, the air was thick with the scent of her—womanly, intoxicating. I found myself on my back on her bed, staring up as she stood over me, her dress hugging every curve. With a sly grin, she pulled it off, revealing tight panties that barely contained her. She slid them down her thighs, and my breath caught at the sight of her—full, powerful, unapologetic. Her ass was a masterpiece, a grown woman’s rear, bare and spreading as she straddled me. 'Ready for me?' she teased, her voice a challenge as she slowly lowered herself.
Her soft cheeks brushed my face, then settled, fusing with my skin like we were one. My nose pressed deep into her center, her crack moist and warm, a sloshy kind of wet that made my head spin. Gravity and the slick lubrication from her humid depths pulled her down harder, her ass making a squishy sound as she adjusted. 'That’s it, breathe me in,' she murmured, grinding slowly, her dew sinking into my pores. I wondered, half-dazed, if this was how boys got pimples—fully adult women like Lori grinding their juices into desperate faces like mine.
Her moisture pressed into my nostrils, her scent claiming me, and I knew I’d smell her for hours after. She shifted, bending over to inspect me, her breath hot on my skin. 'You’re beginning to smell just like you should,' she said with a wicked chuckle, her tone dripping with satisfaction. Then she settled back, her weight pinning me for what felt like an eternity of sweaty, panting bliss. I was lost under her, drowning in the raw, dripping heat of her dominance.
When she finally lifted herself off, the outside air felt cold against my wet face. I left her house, the memory of her womanly ass lingering on my skin, her scent branded into me. And now, days later, here I am again, knocking on her door, craving more. It opens, and there she is, her smirk as sharp as ever. 'You’ve come back for more, huh?' she says, stepping aside to let me in. I know what’s coming—hours under her, buried in her heat, her scent, her power. And I can’t wait.
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