Layla and the Professor
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“Lingerie Loving” Extract: Layla And The Housewife free porn video
an hour later I was standing outside the cottage door in an ill-fitting grey girl scout uniform complete with hat, carrying a Tupperware box. The door opened: Mrs Robertson stood there. Up close she looked really attractive: perhaps a little younger than fifty after all, with large breasts, short hair done up in a bob and very white skin but with two lovely blushing cheeks. She wore a dressing gown: beneath I saw she was in lingerie but she pulled the robe together, folding her arms and looking nervously up and down the lane.
“What are YOU doing here? Where’s Marnie?”
“She had to go somewhere,” I smiled. This was true: I’d played a similar trick on Marnie to the one she’d played on me, and about now she was probably being spanked to climax by Sister Mary. Mrs Robertson brightened as it dawned on her why I was there.
“So she – sent you instead?”
I smiled, deciding to act innocent.
“Actually, I came to see if you needed any jobs doing. For bob-a-job week. Or maybe you’d like some cookies?”
I held out the Tupperware box. She looked down, confused, then back at me. She looked round the lane again and beckoned me inside. I followed her down the hall to the lounge, my eyes on her tight ass, where she sat on the sofa, crossing her legs, her robe falling open. Now I saw properly what she wore: a red basque, slutty red fishnets, red spiked heels - and no panties. Mrs Robertson patted the sofa and I went to sit beside her, my knees closed, acting innocent.
“You seem – very well developed for a girl scout,” she said at last, touching my hair.
I shrugged.
“What do you mean?”
She looked down to my chest, which was practically popping the buttons off my uniform.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl scout with such huge tits,” she said at last. It sounded funny, in her posh accent, and I laughed, pulling up my socks to my knees, her eyes following every move.
“How old are you again?” she asked.
“Nineteen. Why? How old would you like me to be?”
She blushed then, and I wondered if I’d gone too far.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered.
Then I remembered the Tupperware box and held it out.
“Would you like one of my treats miss?”
Puzzled, Mrs Robertson uncrossed her legs and set down the box on her lap. She removed the lid – and her eyes bulged. There inside, instead of home-made brownies, was a selection of sexy toys: a pink vibrator, a huge black strapon-dildo, and some fur-lined handcuffs. She swallowed, blushing: she seemed lost for words. I removed the black strapon from the box and kissed it primly, staring deep into her eyes. She was breathing heavily: shrugging off the gown she touched her own breast through the tight basque. I licked the dildo and took it into my mouth. She pinched her nipple hard then put her arm round my shaking shoulders and pulled me close. Turning up my face she looked deep into my eyes and we kissed. It was heavenly: Mrs Robertson in her slutty MILF outfit, me as her sweet girl scout. She put her hand on my calf, then slowly up along my sock, over my knee, and up my bare thigh. I put down the dildo and touched her huge breast: she shivered.
I whispered in her ear, my fingers on her nipple.
“How can I earn a bob, miss?”
Mrs Robertson pulled my face down to her satin-covered breasts and squashed me between them so I could hear her heart pound. Now she stroked my hair, taking care not to remove my cap. Slowly I eased her breast over the top of her corset and took a huge nipple into my mouth, suckling and licking for all I was worth as I looked up.
“Oh my baby…” she whispered. “Oh my God…”
Mrs Robertson lay back on the sofa and I curled up in her lap, suckling her breast as she slid her hand up my pleated skirt to my little cotton panties. I opened my knees so she could touch me through them, feel how damp I was to be in her arms devouring her breasts. I rested my head in the crook of her arm. She slid her other hand beneath the waistband of my knickers and touched my clit softly, making me groan and suckle even more feverishly. Then her fingers were inside my slimy cunt: two, then three fingers, frigging me urgently as I suckled.
“Oh my baby… Oh sweet baby…”
I looked up into Mrs Robertson’s eyes lovingly, and saw love reflected in her own. She was almost crying, she seemed so happy. I touched her cheek as she fingered my cunt and she lowered her face to kiss my lips.
“I’m yours,” I whispered. “I’ll do anything you wish…”
“A-anything?”
“Anything. Do you want to lick me? Shall I lick your cunt? Your bum? What do you want most?”
She blushed now, stroking my cheeks.
“I’m embarrassed to tell you my love.”
I kissed her mouth again.
“I don’t mind. Anything to earn my bob, miss.”
Mrs Robertson appeared to have reached a decision. Removing her hand from my panties she stood over me in her heels, hands on hips. I wanted desperately to savour her cunt, to taste her, to drink her hot piss and have it gush all over my uniform, but I was to be disappointed.
Mrs Robertson leaned forward and kissed me again.
“Wait here a moment will you?”
She went up the exposed wooden stairs. From the sofa I could see her stocking-tops and shaven cunt and lay with my legs apart and a hand in my knickers, waiting. Finally she cleared her throat.
“Come up here a minute, will you?”
She sounded nervous. I walked up the stairs, smoothing my uniform, wondering what it was she had in mind. At the top of the stairs I saw her at the entrance to a bathroom and walked towards her. She actually seemed sheepish, shy: so unlike the bossy MILF persona she usually presented when fucking Marnie. In the bathroom I saw a plastic baby’s changing mat spread on the floor and a small pile of clothes. To my disappointment Mrs Robertson had removed her basque and fishnets and again had the gown clutched across her breast.
“There’s something I’ve never done with Marnie,” she said nervously. “Something I’ve always wanted. Have you ever heard of ABDL?”
I shook my head, puzzled.
Sitting on the toilet seat Mrs Robertson produced a magazine from a bag and patted her lap. I sat down, enjoying the feeling of her warm flesh. She opened the magazine and showed me the contents, and now I understood what she meant by ABDL: the magazine featured bright glossy pictures of women, some in baby outfits, some in corsets, adult babies suckling and being changed into nappies, flooding their rubber pull-ups with piss. I turned and put my arms around her shoulders, snuggling in.
“Do you want me to be your baby, miss?”
She blushed, bright red.
“No, my dear. That’s not it at all. I want YOU to mummy ME.”
This is an extract of “Lingerie Loving,” my first erotic novel, available now on Kindle.
Trisha
- 12.02.2022
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