Try to Escape

'Pampered by milfs' was what you had been promised, and so far the whole experience had failed to live up to that. Looking back over to Mrs Cook, you suddenly question whether you've chosen wrong. You barely manage to move an inch away from Mrs. Anderson when her hand shoots out like a viper, grabbing you firmly by the lower face.

“Too late for cold feet.." she mutters, as her leg pins you against the front of the sofa. She is still holding you by the jaw, covering your mouth and smothering any protest your stunned brain could attempt to formulate. Moreover she is not letting you breathe, and soon you can feel the desperation spreading from your lungs to your limbs.

You thrash, trying to pull away, get free, but she's practically on top of you. Her other leg has also enveloped your torso, this one more horizontally, under your arm, behind your back and locked in place by her left leg.

Mrs. Anderson squeezes her powerful thighs together, which only makes the constricting feeling all the more intense. You futily grab onto her knee, trying to pull her off you, but she is like a stone and you feel the edges of your vision go black.

Then she suddenly let's go. You gasp, greedily filling you lungs with sweet oxygen and as the pounding in your ears abate, you notice that Rasna is holding a book, but appears to be politely waiting for you to quiet down.

Wait, did they start the poetry reading already.

You don't get much more opportunity to consider, because once more the hand closes around the face and the thighs squeeze you tighter.

And then you finally notice that Mrs. Anderson has used your momentary distraction to modify her lock ever so slightly: a steady hand tangled in your hair and a firm foot pressed against your erection.

Not providing any stimulation beyond a surface, but as you squirm in her grasp, you inevitably rub your straining hardon against her sole.