"Wait, let me get my laptop." Sarah stood up in a rush, her skirt swishing against her thighs as she hurried to her desk.
The council room felt suddenly too quiet without her warmth next to me. She grabbed the laptop, the screen already glowing faintly from sleep mode, and came back fast.
"Here... open it on this. Bigger screen's better for reading all his sick shit." She set the laptop down on the coffee table right in front of me, close enough that our knees touched when she sat back down.
Her body leaned in immediately, shoulder brushing mine, breasts pressing softly against my arm through her blouse. My cock gave a weak twitch in my pants, reminding me how pathetic I was.
I pulled up the browser on her laptop. My fingers felt clumsy on the keys. The Vault site loaded quickly this time. That dark logo stared back at us like it knew exactly what we were about to see.
My heart hammered so loud I swore she could hear it. The cursor hovered over the link to the newest unread entry. I didn't want to click. But I had to.
"Is that it? Open it already." Sarah's voice came out low and serious, no teasing now. She leaned even closer, her breath warm on my cheek, eyes locked on the screen like she was ready to burn holes through it.
I swallowed hard. My thumb trembled just a little on the trackpad.
I clicked.
The page loaded. Mike's posts filled the screen—bold title at the top, timestamp from the next day of Mike going at Rose's house.
Welcome back, degenerates.
Mike here—your resident pussy-breaker, the guy who turns "untouchable" women into dripping, obedient pets. Quick reminder for the newbies and the forgetful: I don't chase easy lays. I hunt the proud ones—the ice queens, the faithful girlfriends, the perfect mothers and I make them crack, make them beg, make them mine. Then I post every filthy detail here so you losers can live through a real man.
If you read my last post, you already know what went down.
Quick mini-recap: I went to Goddess R's house the day after our little schoolyard standoff. Showed up pretending to need study help. MILF M let me in like the trusting mom she is. Went straight to Rose's room. Pinned her, kissed her deep, got her whimpering and surrendering while her tongue shyly met mine. Was just about to slide my hand under her top when Mommy dearest walks in with snacks. That bitch spills everything. Her mom threatens cops. I backed off… for now.
But last night? That's when the real fun started. After I left, I texted MILF M to meet me at restaurant.
Let's see how she surprises me. I'm sure she wouldn't dare disobey after today. She's going to be tamed today.
After a while, she came.
She is such a pushover. She really came.
Last night when I texted her all this she rejected at first, being a stubborn bitch, and now here she is—dressed up for me like a good girl.
She wore a sleeveless dark green blouse, high neck, the kind that's supposed to look classy and modest. But her massive tits turned it into something obscene.
The silky fabric stretched so tight across those heavy, breasts it looked seconds away from ripping. Every breath she took made them swell and settle, the fat, stiff nipples poking hard against the material like they were desperate to be freed. The high neck couldn't hide the deep valley of cleavage that still spilled out at the sides—creamy skin glowing, inner curves pressing together so erotically it was almost painful to look at.
The buttons strained visibly, fabric pulling tight over every inch of those huge mounds, outlining their perfect roundness, the slight jiggle with each step screaming for hands to grab and squeeze. They bounced softly as she walked—slow, hypnotic, heavy enough to make any man's mouth water. The blouse clung to her like it was painted on, accentuating the dramatic swell from her tiny waist up to those overflowing tits, nipples so erect they created little tents that begged to be pinched.
She paired it with tight jeans, dark , high-waisted, molded to her wide hips and thick thighs like a second skin. The denim cupped her fat, round ass perfectly, the seam disappearing deep between those plush cheeks, outlining every curve and dimple.
Her hips rolled with that natural MILF sway as she walked—powerful, fuckable, built for pounding from behind. Thighs rubbed together audibly with each step, soft flesh pressing and releasing, the faint outline of a high-cut thong visible through the stretched fabric—straps digging into her hips, accentuating the dramatic hourglass dip from narrow waist to breeding-wide hips.
Legs long and toned but thick enough to crush a skull while the owner thanks her.
White hair loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, framing that guilty, flushed face. Makeup on point—red lips glossy and parted, eyeliner sharp but her eyes were glassy with fear and something darker.
She spotted me. Hesitated for half a heartbeat. Then walked over, tits bouncing softly, hips swaying, every step screaming surrender.
She reached the booth, paused, looked around.Then she sat down in front of me and placed her handbag on the table.
To be continued…
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