MILF fantasy

I wait in anticipation, my foot tapping nervously. When Simone reappears fifteen minutes later, her mouth is slightly creased downward in a frown and her eyes look at me in judgment. "Congratulations. We've got the perfect experience lined up, perfectly tailored to your...proclivities. If you could just follow Emma here, she will take you to your room." She gestures at a girl who appears from behind another door a few meters away.

Emma can't be more than a couple of years older than me. She waves impatiently, and I follow her through the door. She leads me silently up a couple of flights of steps and down a bare corridor.

"Are... Are you part of my experience?" I ask.

"God, no!" I can't see her face, but I can hear the disgust dripping from her tone. Inwardly, I cringe. Hell, I probably cringe outwardly as well.

Finally, we reach a plain wooden door. "This is for you," says Emma promptly before turning on her heels and marching back down the corridor. Tentatively, I push open the door and enter the room beyond.

It's a bedroom, nicely carpeted, low recessed lighting casting gentle shadows everywhere. There's a king-sized bed against the far wall and sitting at the foot of the bed--a voluptuous woman in her late thirties or early forties. She's dressed in a sky blue nightgown, her curly black hair tumbling over her shoulders. She has a beautiful face, but--more than that--it's a kind face.

"Hello, sweetie," she says, patting the space on the bed beside her. "Come. Sit."

I obey, and she wraps her arms around me. "Er, hi," I say a little awkwardly. "I'm Jake. What about you?"

"Just call me...Mommy," she whispers. I do notice that her hair color matches my real mom's, though it's quite a bit longer. Also, this woman is much more...well-endowed. She presses my face against the upper slope of her boob, and my cock immediately hardens, struggling to escape from my boxers.

"I know those girls have been so mean to you, so nasty," she says. "And I want you to know...it's okay, Jake. There's one girl who'll love you no matter what, who'll always be there when you come home. She can give you everything you'll ever need."

With one hand, she loosens the belt on her nightgown, letting the two halves fall apart. A giant tit swings into view, heavy and firm, dark red areola surrounding a puckering nipple. And from that nipple, a drop of white coalesces before dripping down her boob, leaving a trail against her smooth skin.

"Come, Jake," she breathes out. "Drink from Mommy. You know it always makes you feel better." Her other hand gently pats the back of my head, pushes me forward. I couldn't resist even if I wanted to. My lips latch on to the nipple, sucking with an instinct borne from birth. Her milk is creamy, tasty, filling--unlike any I can remember drinking before. My cock could not be harder; it threatens to rip through the fabric constraining it. I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them again I'm blinking back tears. I can't stop the crying, the sniffling, even as I continue to suck down her lifegiving cream.

"Shh, shh," she soothes me, running her fingers through my hair. "It's alright, Jake. I love you. You're safe here. Just keep drinking. That's it."

When her boob finally runs dry, I fall back, running one hand over my face to wipe away any remaining tears or traces of milk. The woman smiles at me and lowers her forehead to touch mine.

"I hope that made Jake feel happy," she coos. "Now maybe Jake can make Mommy feel happy. I gave you my cream, and I'd like some in return."