A bimboi MILF that loves playing mommy.

You decided upon reading Mrs. Loverly's file that you would absolutely take her on as a client. Ella even offered to give you a blowjob as a trade, then remembering who she was talking to, offered to let you give her a blowjob, but there was no way you were going to turn down some lovey dovey dommy mommy after the week you've had.

Her house is much more modest than you expected. A quaint cozy cottage style out towards the edge of town. You have had enough surprises lately, so you make Becca drop you off and wait down the block to hear from you or else she'll bust the door in and 'bust heads that needs bustin' as she puts it. You've got a good feeling about this one, and you are learning to trust your feelings. You are wearing a costume that read Alust in Wonderland on the tag in Becca's chest. It's a tea dress with a top cut low enough to give a peek at your pert tits and the tops of your nipples over the intricate lace lined cups and a skirt high enough to show off your entire rhumba panty covered ass.

You ring the door bell and sway back and forth, trying to remember what innocence looks like. "Oh, hello, darling. Let's get you inside before you freeze to **** in that silly costume. You know you don't have to dress like that to look like a Disney princess." She boops your nose and you almost cum. She has long, ravishing red hair, ocean deep blue green eyes, features like a Madonna, and a body bursting at her casual turtleneck sweater and lazy day sweats. You expected some tarted up tramp in a mom cosplay. Instead, she looks like a stunning creature that only the heft of her hips and almost imperceptible wrinkles hint at her motherliness. You think you might be in love...

"Come on in, silly. We'll get you dressed in something a little more comfortable and get some hot cookies in you." Yep. You are definitely in love. Mrs. Loverly leads you into her house and you are half expecting delicate lingerie or luscious leather to be carefully laid out for you. Instead you find a cotton nightdress and a fluffy robe hanging off the side of a well worn, but extremely comfy couch. "I'll get the cookies while you get changed...if you want." You realize with a blush that she means literal cookies and you almost swoon. You change into the clothes she has laid out for you and feel so comfortable you almost fall asleep on her couch which seems to sink forever.

You look around her place while you wait for her to come back. There are no paddles or pervy paraphernalia. Instead you see knick knacks, curios, tchotchkes, and collectibles. You struggle to find any theme or unifying thread and you can't fathom any other than a life well lived, and well loved. "Well, you look a lot cozier. No offense, the Alust in Wonderland outfit is a classic, and you can probably tell I love magic wherever I can find it and celebrate Halloween as often as I can, but I cannot abide **** frivolity, even when it's displayed as fetchingly as you were." Mrs. Lovingly says as she sets a soft hand on your shoulder and a plate of cookies on the coffee table.

The motherly minx sits down kitty corner from you and takes a cookie for herself. It's strange, you were expecting to be sitting on her lap or getting a spanking by now, but this is downright homey. Oddly, that is only adding to the eroticism, and you catch yourself licking your lips as you stare at her eating her cookie. She catches you too, and you blush and look away quickly, shoving a cookie in your mouth. It's warm and moist and the chocolate is still melty and gooey and before you know it, you have to cover your crotch so she doesn't see you getting a hard on from eating a cookie. "Relax, sweetie. It's okay. I get it. It's hard to be comfortable in your own skin when you're horny half the time and absolutely dying to get fucked the other half."

You nod nervously and squirm in your seat, somewhat comforted but still self conscious. Mrs. Loverly sees your discomfort and rises to join you on the couch. You can't help but notice, because you are staring right at it, that she has a hefty hard on in her sweats as well. She slides in beside you and puts her arm behind you on the sofa. You are instinctively drawn in by her warmth and you rest your head on her shoulder unbidden. She doesn't feel like a client right now, she feels like a comfort. "Aww. Someone's feeling cuddly. That's good...so am I." She strokes your hair softly and you wait, holding back your whimpers, for her to make a move, but she just sits there cuddling, eating cookies, and making your cock drool.

"Uhmm, Mrs. Loverly...should I start to...you know...do...stuff to you?" You blush bright as can be, suddenly so shy and uncomfortable talking about sex. Then again, you suppose that hasn't changed since your transformation. It's just you've been hanging out with bimbois and studs that just assumed you were going to be sucking their shafts in one or both of your hungry holes. To he fair, they are always right, but it has left your ability to talk about what you want sexually stilted and sophomoric.

"Well, I didn't invite you over to JUST eat cookies and cuddle, but I'm at a stage in my life that what I'm really looking for is companionship. I lost my family when they couldn't accept me for who I am, and I suppose I'm looking for a new family...with benefits. So call you can call me Joy, or mommy if you're more into that, but I do hope you'll relax and stop calling me Mrs. Loverly, and we'll see where the night takes us." You smile broadly and snuggle in closer, wanting to get fucked more than ever but not wanting to ruin the moment. Besides, you're discovering that the tension and titillation of delaying your desires without denying them makes for a heady cocktail of lust and longing without the usual loopiness.

"That sounds nice, Joy, but if you want me to call you 'mommy', then you are definitely going to have to fuck me first." Joy laughs loudly...like embarrassingly loudly with weird little wheezy gasps in between. It's such an unguarded moment, that you don't even feel your usual pang of mortification you get when talking about sex. If Joy can let her guard down, you suppose you can as well. "Can I ask how you can be so normal while still being a walking hard on that everyone is either afraid of, despises, wants to fuck...or all three at once?"

Joy cocks her head as if it hasn't really ever occured to her and then smiles, saying, "Well, first off, I am not normal and probably never will be. I just...after fucking up a lot and making every wrong decision you can make, often more than once, I finally learned that I'm just going to keep on fucking up forever and to be okay with that." Your face scrunches up like you sucked on a lemon while getting an ice cream headache and Joy correctly guesses that her answer didn't satisfy you. "I'm sorry. I know. I wish I had it all figured out too. The truth is that if you can forgive your fuck ups, you can actually learn just enough from them to make slightly less catastrophic mistakes. In the meantime, you can learn a little mindfulness, and I hate sounding so instagram, but more gratitude. You can even start making some good decisions. The hardest part is loving yourself, trying to fix the things you aren't okay with, and learning to live with the rest."

You are torn between wanting to crawl in her lap and cuddle up like a kitten and wanting to crawl in her lap and get fucked like a sex kitten. Instead you both just sit for awhile, she strokes your hair and you nuzzle her neck. There is a terrible thought nagging at your calm the whole time, and eventually you have to get it off your chest. "Okay, but what if what I want is so gross and vile that I don't deserve love? Like...the thing that gets me off the most is being treated like shit. I get a hard on from being humiliated and drop to my knees for the biggest dirtbags. I thought once I transformed that my ideal me would be better than that. Sure, here and there I have stood up for myself and fought back, but I know...I mean I fucking KNOW that the next stud or bully bimboi would have me on my knees by snapping my fingers. I can't even tell my dad what I am because I'm worried he'll bust my jaw and I'll get a boner."

You are trembling and fighting back tears by the time you finish, and Joy seems on the verge of crying herself. You lie your head on her chest and she calmly coos, "Me too, Amy, me too. Growing up doesn't always mean changing who you are, and even so called normal folks have kinks where their formative experiences wired them this way or that. I will always have that drive too, but...and I am talking a nice big juicy but...that doesn't stop me from being everything else I want to be in addition to that. You can have kinks and still just have regular old sex too. You can have things about yourself you don't like or understand and can't change. Love means accepting all of it, even when it's hard."

You look up with loving, lusty eyes. "You know, it's actually been a pretty hectic week for me. I know it's your dime and all, but maybe we could go to bed early?" Your tone is the most suggestive you've ever been without blushing. You are flushed as all hell, almost feverish, but for the first time, you aren't the slightest bit embarrassed.

"Wanda didn't tell you? I'm not the client tonight. You are. Wanda is a bossy brat, and she is too reckless for her own good, and often everyone else's, but she does the best she can and sends girls my way when she realizes that bimbabysitting isn't the right life for them. I'm kind of a way station for wayward sissies. You can stay here as long as you like, and when you're ready to start out on your own path, I'll set you up with whatever support system you need. But we can talk more about that in the morning. Let's get you to bed."