Mrs. Cleft's milk and cookies

"I'm so glad to hear you say that," Mrs. Cleft whispers, stroking your cheek.

She cradles the back of your head in her hand and moves her lips to your ear.

"Just this once," she says, her breath hot against your cheek, "I will keep your filthy little secret, Joy."

Her fingers lace through your hair and she yanks your head back painfully.

"But only," she says, looking down at your face, "if you do exactly as I say. Will you obey me, Joy?"

"Y-yes," you reply. "Yes, Mrs. Cleft."

"Good," she releases your hair. "Now, on your knees then, my little whore. It's time for your punishment."

You swallow hard and resign yourself to whatever punishment Mrs. Cleft has in mind. You fall to your knees at Mrs. Cleft's feet.

Mrs. Cleft turns her back on you and takes a few steps away. When she turns to face you she has an evil smile on her usually kind face.

"I know what a dirty little girl like you wants, Joy," Mrs. Cleft explains. "I know why you were snooping through my things."

Mrs. Cleft reaches down to the hem of her sweater and pulls it up over her huge breasts and over her head. Beneath the sweater she is wearing a white support bra that still barely contains her swollen double d cups. Her skin is tan, but the tops of her bulging tits are pale white, suggesting she spends a great deal of her time poolside in a bathing suit.

Mrs. Cleft squeezes her huge tits through the padded fabric of the bra.

"I bet you can't wait to see these," she mocks. "A dirty little girl like you."

She releases her breasts and her hands rove down her tan skin to the waist of her blue jeans. She unbuttons and unzips them, then turns around and bends so you have a good view of her ample ass as she shucks the jeans down over it. You are surprised to see she is wearing a thong today. The expanse of her ass appears stark white in contrast to her tanned legs and back. Her big cheeks are certainly those of a middle-aged woman like Mrs. Cleft, but there is only a touch of cellulite.

Mrs. Cleft turns back to you and grins.

"I see you can't tear your eyes off me," she discards the jeans and walks towards you. "I'll let you choose. I'm feeling kind."

"Y-yes, Mrs. Cleft," you reply as the older woman strokes your cheek and gazes down at you.

"I can let you see everything," she says, "or you can let me see everything."

She bends down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"So which is it, dear?"