EXTRACT FOR
MILF'n Ain't Easy
(Alana Church)

There was a polite tap at the frosted glass door of the shower. Sylvia could just make out the shadowy figure of Trent. "Can I come in?"



She slid the door open. "It's your bathroom," she smiled, taking in Trent's body with admiring eyes.



"But you're my guest," he countered as he joined her. She gave way as he settled himself under the shower-head. His eyes closed happily as water cascaded through his hair, down his face, and over his body. His next words were a little bit muffled. "And it never hurts to be polite."



Sylvia passed him the soap, and he began to lather up. As suds trickled down towards his groin, she couldn't help but stare. His body was incredible, especially in the eyes of a woman who had been going to bed with the same man for over a dozen years. His shoulders were broad, his chest deep, his belly flat, and he probably topped her husband by a good four inches. And even flaccid, Trent's manhood was?impressive. Fat and thick, his cock hung between his legs. His pubic hair was a sandy brown, a few shades darker than the hair on his head.



He caught her looking and grinned. "Heard rumors?" he asked with a cheeky grin.



"Not about that," she replied.



He almost looked hurt, as if he expected fame to run out ahead of him. In apology, she reached out, fondling his soapy length. Almost immediately he began to harden, and Sylvia sighed. Young men were so easy. So uncomplicated. If they were attracted to you, you barely had to work at all. It was so unlike having sex with her husband, where even the most basic encounter had to be negotiated.



"Feel good?" she smirked.



"Yes."



A terrible thought struck her. "You will be able to?to go more than once, won't you?"



"Oh, yes," Trent agreed.



"Good." It wasn't too late. Sylvia knew that. Even though she had betrayed Martin in her heart, she hadn't with her body. Not yet. She could still leave. Could dash out of the bathroom, throw on her clothes, and speed away. Trent wouldn't pursue her. If her intuition was right, he had a whole line of women on a string, and he probably wouldn't mourn her loss for more than a day or two.



But she didn't want to leave. A terrible excitement had begun to build in her, making her stomach hot and fluttery.



She wanted this. Wanted more than mere revenge. She wanted Trent. Not to make love, but to fuck, wild and primal as a pair of animals.



So she pressed her body close against his, pushed him across the tile floor of the shower, fisted her left hand in the nape of his neck, and while still jacking his cock with her right, kissed him with all the raw, savage hunger of her shattered heart.