In the sultry haze of a late summer morning, I, Tiffani, stood before my full-length mirror adjusting the thin white tank top that clung to my generous curves like a second skin. My bodacious figure—full, heavy breasts that swayed with every breath, a narrow waist flaring into wide hips and a plump, juicy ass that turned heads—had always been my greatest weapon. At forty-two, I knew exactly what I wanted: the raw, untamed energy of a younger man to fill the quiet emptiness of my home. My best friend's son, Elias, had been lingering in my fantasies for over a year. He was twenty now, freshly muscled from college sports, with an innocent charm that made my core ache with hunger. Today, I would finally claim him under the guise of needing a handyman.
I sent the text that morning: "Hey Elias, the faucet in my kitchen is leaking again and that shelf in the living room is sagging. Any chance you could swing by and fix it for your favorite auntie? I'll pay you in cash… and maybe lunch." His reply came quick: "Sure thing, Tiffani! Be there in 30." My pulse fluttered. This was it—the perfect excuse to get him alone, shirtless, and vulnerable to my slow, deliberate seduction.
When the doorbell rang, I opened it with a warm smile, the scent of my vanilla-coconut body lotion wafting toward him. Elias stood there in a simple gray T-shirt stretched across his broad chest and faded jeans that hugged his long legs. His dark hair was tousled, green eyes bright and eager. "Morning," he said, voice still carrying that boyish lilt that made my thighs clench. "Where's the damage?"
I led him into the kitchen, hips swaying deliberately in my tiny denim cutoffs that rode high on my thick thighs, the hem barely covering the lower curve of my ass. The leaky faucet was my first prop. As he knelt to inspect it, I leaned over the counter beside him, my massive tits pressing forward so the deep V of my tank top revealed the lacy edge of my bra and the soft, tanned swell of cleavage. "It drips all night," I murmured, voice low and husky. "Keeps me up… tossing and turning." His gaze flicked up, lingering a second too long on my chest before snapping back to the pipes. A faint blush crept up his neck. Good.
The air grew warmer as he worked, tools clinking softly. Sweat beaded on his forehead, darkening the collar of his shirt. "It's getting stuffy in here," I said casually, fanning myself so my breasts jiggled. "Why don't you take that shirt off, honey? No point ruining it. I won't bite… unless you ask nicely." He hesitated only a moment, then pulled the fabric over his head in one smooth motion. His torso was a masterpiece—lean, defined abs, smooth chest with just a hint of dark hair trailing downward, biceps flexing as he reached for the wrench. The sight sent a rush of heat straight to my core; I could smell the clean, slightly salty musk of his young skin mixed with my own sweet perfume. My nipples tightened into hard peaks, visible through the thin cotton.
I didn't stop there. While he tightened fittings, I "helped" by handing him tools, brushing my soft fingers against his calloused ones, letting my hip graze his side. Each contact was electric—his skin warm and velvet-smooth under my touch. I bent low to point out a stubborn bolt, my ass pushing out invitingly, the shorts riding up to expose the lower cheeks. I felt his stare like a physical caress, heard his breathing deepen. "You're so strong," I purred, straightening slowly so my tits bounced. "A real man around the house is exactly what I've been craving."
By the time we moved to the living room shelf, the tension hummed between us like live wire. He reached overhead to secure the bracket, muscles rippling, a thin sheen of sweat making his skin glow. I stood close—too close—my body heat mingling with his. The faint scent of his exertion, earthy and masculine, filled my nostrils, making my mouth water. I imagined tasting the salt on his collarbone. "Here, let me steady you," I whispered, placing a hand on his lower back, fingers splaying across warm, firm flesh. He stiffened, but didn't pull away. His cock—already half-hard, I could see the bulge straining his jeans—twitched visibly.
We took a break on the oversized couch, the leather cool against my thighs as I sat mere inches from him. My heart pounded. This was the moment. "You've been such a good help," I said softly, turning toward him so my knee pressed against his. Our eyes locked—his wide with uncertainty and raw hunger, mine heavy-lidded with intent. Slowly, deliberately, I reached under the hem of my tank top. "It's so warm… mind if I get more comfortable?" With a teasing smile, I unhooked my bra, sliding the straps down my arms and pulling it free through one sleeve. The thin fabric of my top now clung directly to my bare, heavy breasts, nipples stiff and dark against the white material. I arched my back slightly, letting them sway. "Much better."
Elias's breath caught audibly, a low, involuntary groan escaping his throat. His gaze dropped to my chest, pupils dilated. "Tiffani… I…" he started, voice rough. I leaned in, my vanilla scent enveloping him, and placed a hand on his thigh, fingers tracing the hard muscle through denim. "Shh, sweetie. I've seen how you look at me. I've wanted this too—for so long. Just relax and let me show you how a real woman takes care of a man like you."
The dam broke. He reached for me hesitantly at first, large hands cupping my tits through the fabric, thumbs circling my aching nipples. The touch sent jolts straight to my clit; I gasped, arching into his palms. "God, they're so soft… so big," he murmured, voice thick with awe. I pulled my tank top off completely, exposing myself fully—full, pendulous breasts with wide, rosy areolas and stiff peaks begging for attention. He dove in, mouth hot and wet, sucking one nipple deep while his hand kneaded the other. The wet suction sounds filled the room, mixed with my soft moans and the slick pop as he switched sides. His tongue swirled, teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver. I could feel my pussy growing slick, juices soaking my panties.
My hands roamed his chest, nails lightly scratching down to his belt. I unbuckled it slowly, savoring the metallic clink and the way his abs tensed under my touch. "Let me see you," I whispered, freeing his cock. It sprang out—thick, veined, and rock-hard, the head already glistening with precum. At twenty, he was impressively endowed, longer and girthier than I'd imagined, the musky scent of his arousal hitting me like an aphrodisiac. I wrapped my fingers around the hot, velvet shaft, stroking slowly from base to tip, feeling it pulse and twitch in my grip. He groaned loudly, hips bucking. "Fuck… Tiffani…"
I pushed him back against the cushions and straddled his lap, grinding my soaked core against his length through my shorts. The friction made my clit throb; I could hear the wet sounds of my arousal as I rocked. We kissed deeply—his mouth eager and inexperienced but passionate, tongues tangling with the faint taste of his mint gum and my cherry lip gloss. His hands gripped my ass, squeezing the juicy flesh, fingers digging in as he pulled me harder against him.
I stood briefly to shimmy out of my shorts and panties, revealing my smooth, shaved pussy—lips plump and glistening with creamy wetness, clit swollen and peeking out. The cool air kissed my heated folds as I spread my thighs. Elias stared, mesmerized, his cock jerking. "You're so wet… for me?" I nodded, guiding his hand between my legs. His fingers explored tentatively at first, then with growing confidence—sliding through my slick folds, circling my clit until I moaned and bucked. The obscene squelch of my juices filled the air, my musky-sweet scent mixing with his. "Inside," I demanded breathily. Two thick fingers plunged into my tight, velvety cunt, curling to stroke my G-spot. Pleasure coiled hot and fast; I rode his hand, tits bouncing, the wet slapping sounds echoing.
But I needed more. I sank down onto his cock slowly, savoring every inch as my pussy stretched around his girth. The burn was exquisite—fullness bordering on too much, walls fluttering and gripping him like a vice. "So big… filling me up," I gasped. He thrust up instinctively, burying himself to the hilt with a groan. We moved together at first in a slow, grinding rhythm: my hips rolling, his hands on my waist guiding me. Sensory overload consumed me—the slick, obscene sounds of his cock plunging into my dripping cunt, the slap of my ass against his thighs, the salty taste of sweat as I licked his neck, the scent of sex heavy in the room, the sight of my tits jiggling wildly with each bounce.
I rode him harder, faster, leaning back so he could watch his thick shaft disappear into my pink, stretched lips again and again. My juices coated him, dripping down his balls. "Harder, Elias—fuck me like you mean it," I urged. He flipped us suddenly, young strength surging as he pinned me to the couch and drove in deep. The new angle hit my G-spot perfectly; each powerful thrust made my walls clench and pulse. I wrapped my legs around him, heels digging into his ass, nails raking his back. The room filled with my cries—"Yes, right there!"—and his grunts, skin slapping wetly.
Tension built like a coiled spring. His cock swelled inside me, veins rubbing my sensitive walls. I reached down to rub my clit in frantic circles, the dual stimulation pushing me over. "I'm gonna cum—don't stop!" My orgasm crashed through me in waves—pussy convulsing, squirting clear fluid that dripped down his shaft and soaked the couch. I screamed his name, body shaking, vision blurring as pleasure ripped through every nerve. Elias followed seconds later, burying deep with a guttural moan, hot spurts of cum flooding my spasming cunt, overflowing and mixing with my cream to drip messily between us.
We collapsed together, panting, bodies slick with sweat. His softening cock slipped out with a wet pop, followed by a thick trickle of our combined release down my thigh. I smiled, running fingers through his hair. "That was just the beginning, handsome. Next time, we'll take even longer."