She sat down in front of me and placed her handbag on the table like it was some kind of peace treaty. Fuck, from every angle she looked smoking hot. Those massive tits resting heavy on the edge of the table, squishing together and spilling slightly from the side of that green blouse. The high neck was useless.
Jeans so tight they looked painted on, hugging every inch of those wide hips and thick thighs, the seam digging right into her fat ass cheeks. When she shifted to get comfortable, her ass jiggled just enough to make my cock throb under the table.
White hair loose, red lips parted, eyes glassy with fear and something she was trying to hide. I wanted to drag her into the bathroom right then, bend her over the sink, and fuck her until she screamed my name. But patience is key with these proud ones. I had to take it slow. Make her break herself.
MILF M finally looked up, voice low but edged with that protective-mom steel.
"What do you want? Why did you call me here?"
She leaned forward slightly—big mistake. Those huge tits pressed harder against the table, underboobs flattening out on the wood, soft flesh spilling forward like an offering.
"Stay away from my daughter. She told me everything."
I smirked, crossing my legs casually under the table.
"Relax, Mommy. Why are you so tense? Order something. You look like you could use a drink."
She glared, cheeks flushing deeper.
"I didn't come here for dinner. I came to tell you to leave Rose alone."
I leaned back, arms draped over the backrest, letting her stew for a second.
"Look… you want me to stay away from your daughter? And that loser boyfriend of hers? I'll do it."
She frowned instantly like she already knew I was full of shit. And to be honest? I really was.
I just want one thing in return."
Her eyes narrowed. Voice tight.
"What? You want money?"
I laughed low.
"Nah. I've got plenty."
"Then what?"
I let my gaze drop deliberately to her tits, then back up to her face.
"You know what I want. You saw me and your daughter in her room. If you do what I say… it's a deal."
Her face paled. Then flushed angry red.
"What? No way. That's not possible."
I shrugged like it was nothing.
"Alright then. If you don't… your daughter will."
Her breath hitched.
"Maybe I should threaten her again. Tell her I'll break her boyfriend's arms again this time. Both of them."
She flinched visibly.
"Or maybe I should really beat him up. Make it believable. Send him to the hospital again so she knows I'm serious."
Her expression shattered instantly. Eyes wide, pleading.
"No… please don't do that."
I leaned forward again, voice dropping to a whisper.
"So you agree to the deal?"
She looked jumbled. Hands twisting in her lap. Eyes darting around the restaurant like she was searching for an escape. She thought for a long minute, long enough that I could see her chest rising and falling faster.
Finally, voice barely above a whisper:
"O-okay… if I do whatever you say… will you stay away from them?"
"Of course."
She swallowed hard. Still trying to hold onto some dignity.
"Okay. I'll do whatever you say… but only once. After today, never show your face again."
She still had guts. Trying to set terms like she had any power left.
I grinned wide.
"Well then… let's order something."
We called the waiter. I got steak and another whiskey. She ordered a salad. Hands shaking so bad the menu rattled.
Food came quick. We ate in silence at first. She picked at her plate, barely touching it. Every time she leaned forward to take a bite, those massive tits rested fully on the table—underboobs flattening out, soft flesh spreading across the wood until it looked like her blouse might actually tear. Nipples scraping against the fabric with every small movement.
Time to test if she was really going to listen.
I lifted one leg under the table. Slowly. Casually. Like I was just stretching.
My foot found her knee first. She froze mid-bite, fork halfway to her mouth.
I didn't stop. Pressed forward. Up her inner thigh.
She gasped a little, soft, choked sound she tried to cover with a cough. Eyes darted to mine, wide and panicked.
I kept going. The toe of my shoe slid higher, tracing the seam of her jeans until it pressed right against her pussy.
Heat poured through the denim. Soaked. The fabric was already dark and clinging at the crotch.
She jolted. Fork clattered against the plate.
"Mike…" she whispered, voice trembling. "Please… not here."
I pressed harder. Slow circles. Rubbing her clit through the jeans with my foot.
Her thighs clenched instinctively, trapping my leg but that only ground her pussy harder against my foot.
"Eat your salad, Mommy," I said calmly. "Act normal."
She stared at me, eyes glassy. Breathing shallow and fast. Nipples now painfully obvious, poking like bullets through the blouse.
I kept the pressure steady. Rubbing in slow, firm circles. Her hips twitched once, tiny, involuntary buck. She bit her lip hard to stop a moan.
Around us, people talked. Laughed. Clinked glasses. No one noticed the elegant MILF across from me was getting her cunt teased under the table while she tried to pretend everything was fine.
Her salad sat untouched now. Hands gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white.
I sped up just a little. Pressed the toe directly against her clit and dragged it up and down.
She whimpered—barely audible—but her body betrayed her. Hips rocked forward once. Twice. Chasing the friction.
"Mike… stop… someone will see…"
I grinned.
"Then be quiet."
I pressed harder. Rubbed faster.
Her breathing turned ragged. Chest heaving. Tits rising and falling so fast the buttons on her blouse strained even more. One looked ready to pop.
She was soaked now. I could feel the wetness seeping through the denim onto my leg. Her thighs trembled around my leg.
I leaned forward, voice low.
"You're dripping all over my foot. You like this, don't you?"
She shook her head frantically but her hips said yes. Another small buck. Another stifled whimper.
I kept going. Steady rhythm. Rubbing her swollen clit through the jeans until her eyes fluttered shut for a second.
She was close. I could tell. Body tensing. Breathing hitching.
Then I stopped.
Pulled my foot back.
She gasped, half relief, half frustration. Eyes snapping open, glassy and confused.
I wiped my shoe casually on the carpet under the table. Smirked at her.
"Finish your food. We're not done yet."
To be continued…
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