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Actually I’m hotter in real life!

I may be a gold digger, but at least I’m honest.
Did I marry a 97-year-old billionaire founder of an amusement park empire for his money? Well, it certainly wasn’t for his shriveled-up dick. Max is hooked up to machines most of the time, which means I’m more of a nurse than a wife — except I refuse to bathe him or change his diaper or bring him food.
Let’s put it this way: if I was really his nurse, I would have been fired by now. His spoiled kids and grandkids have been trying to get rid of me since the beginning. Guess why.
On our wedding night, after I slurped down his pathetic cream soda of a load, Max changed his will. Now, I get every last dime of his estate. According to his brilliant team of doctors, I should be a billionaire before my 27th birthday.
The best part is there’s no prenup, so while I’m waiting for him to kick the bucket, I can fuck whoever I want whenever I want. Last Thanksgiving, I fucked my step-granddaughter’s boyfriend under the table during dinner. Twice.
I also fucked every single judge in the county, which is why I’m so confident the current version of Max’s will is going to stand up to his family’s legal challenges.
With all this money, you’d think I’d be traveling around the world fucking Saudi princes, Bollywood movie stars, and power-mad Eastern European dictators, but I prefer to stay home in my mansion and let my conquests wander into my web like a black widow spider.
I’ve fucked all of the landscapers, maids, butlers, nurses, and cooks — most of them in Max’s room; some right in his bed with him. I’m not trying to torture him or anything; this was always part of our arrangement, and these days, I doubt he even knows what’s going on. I suppose I could use any of the other 17 bedrooms in the house, but Max’s room gets the best natural light and his bed is super comfy.
My favorite conquests are the pizza delivery boys. I know it’s a bit of a cliché, but the scenario is a classic for a reason. These are greasy, sad guys who didn’t go to college and do nothing but jerk off and play video games all day. Most of the time, they’re not much to look at and are not very hygienic.
So, what’s the draw?
For one thing, their porn addictions make them game for any kinky situation I throw at them. It doesn’t get much kinkier than fucking a hotwife in bed next to her 97-year-old husband.
The other thing I like about pizza delivery boys is they are almost always younger than I am. I enjoy “first sex teacher” roleplay and feeling like a MILF in general. This isn’t something you normally get to experience when your husband is 70 years older than you.
Sometimes, even the 30-year-old delivery boys are still virgins, which makes it extra fun.

I order pizzas from many different places at various times of the day to make sure I get a variety of delivery boys. Today it’s a late breakfast from Pizza Baron in Jackson County — the other side of the tracks.
The doorbell rings, and I adjust my silk bathrobe so that my perky tits are barely contained.
“Be right there,” I say into the intercom.
When I open the door, I’m disappointed to find this pizza boy is actually a middle-aged man. The angles and lines on his face suggest he could be as old as 40. According to his nametag, his name is Billy, which doesn’t quite fit a man of his maturity.
“That’ll be $23.40,” he says, handing me a hot, grease-soaked box.
I hand him his money, and for a moment, he just stands in the doorway, looking me up and down. By now, word has gotten out about the horny woman in the Brisby Mansion. It’s less fun if they’re expecting to get laid even before they show up.
Plus, if I wanted to fuck a middle-aged guy, I’d bang the butler. At least the butler has a sexy British accent.
I’m about to let him walk away when I notice how firm his ass is and how muscular his back looks in his sweat-stained uniform.
There are some advantages to men of his age. They last longer, for one thing — especially the married ones who are bored of having sex with their wives. Even if they normally have a hard time getting it up, they’re raring to go once they get their hands on my young, supple body.
And obviously compared to my mummy of a husband, Billy here is a young whippersnapper.
He reminds me of a post-Pirates of the Caribbean Johnny Depp with dark, sunken-in eyes and a sexy sadness. I guess he’d have to be sad to be delivering pizzas at his age.
“Hold on!” I say just as he reaches the driveway.
He turns around with a big grin on his face. He’s already on board, which is a relief; it means I don’t have to come up with a bunch of awkward euphemisms to lure him back.
“Are you in a hurry?” I ask.
“I don’t have to be,” he says.
And that’s the extent of our negotiation.
“Aren’t you worried your pizza will get cold?” he asks, as he follows me up the winding staircase.
“Please,” I say. “Do I look like someone who eats pizza? This body’s a temple.”
He takes in the majesty of my swaying ass. “You can say that again.”
One of Max’s nurses is in with him. She flees the room when Billy and I enter.
“Is he in a coma or something?”
“I don’t know the specifics. They tell me he isn’t in any pain, which is all I care about.”
“And we’re just going to — ”
I cut him off with a hard, wet kiss.
“Do you have a problem with that?” I ask.
“I guess not. Does he?”
“Nah, he’s cool with it.”
“Seriously?”
“Trust me, I’ve been doing this since even before we were married. The only times he ever got upset were if my lover and I bounced on the bed too much and woke him up. Then I would just play with his limp cock for a while until he fell back to sleep. But that’s not necessary anymore because he can’t feel anything.”
“Poor bastard.”
“He’s a 97-year-old billionaire who got everything he ever wanted in life. No need to feel sorry for him.”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
Billy grabs my ass and pulls me in for another kiss. Though his hand is firm on my caboose, his lips are soft and his tongue is loose and gentle in my mouth. His breath tastes like anchovies.
I pull away from him just long enough for me to open my robe and for him to take his shirt off. Then I press back into him, skin against skin. It’s like hugging a brick wall. I’m guessing he spends more time at the gym than he does sitting on his couch playing Fortnite.
I sit back on the bed and spread my legs. The image of my husband behind me with all of the tubes and gadgets must look like a sci-fi nightmare, and I can’t blame Billy for his hesitation. I lick my fingers and rub my pussy to bring him back into the moment.
He cracks his knuckles as though he’s about to open a safe, then dives head-first into my hungry snatch. His tongue circles my clit and probes my entrance until I’m warm, then he inserts his middle finger and makes a “come here” motion. He may not work in the kitchen, but he really knows how to stir my sauce.
As amazing as it feels, I need to taste his pepperoni.
“OK, Billy boy. My turn.”
He climbs out of me and stands. I undo his belt, and his oversized pants fall to the ground without me unbuttoning them. Underneath, he’s wearing a pair of worn cotton boxers. I tease his bulge with my fingertips before yanking down his undies.
At half mast, he’s already six inches. After a few strokes and licks, he becomes more of a salami log than pepperoni; a total of 11 inches long and so thick that I can’t get my hand around it. The most impressive part is how hard he is.
With an index finger on his tip, I pull his cock down towards my face as though I’m lowering a bridge, then release him so he snaps back and punches himself in the stomach. It nearly knocks the wind out of him.
“Sorry,” I say. “Was that too much?”
“A little bit. Do it again.”
I oblige. This time he gasps with a smile on his face. As I retract my hand, I see a string of precum connecting his tip to my finger like melted mozzarella. I suck my finger clean before going at his cock with my mouth.
I’ve had a lot of blowjob practice lately, but this is still too much. I settle for sucking on his knob while jacking him off with two hands. Occasionally, I take a break to nuzzle his shaft against my face and play with his balls. His pulsing veins tell me he likes it.
My tits aren’t enormous, but I can give a pretty decent titjob when I’m working with a cock as fat as his. I let some of my drool trickle down my chin, then rub it into my skin for lubrication.
His eyes light up as I sandwich his meat between my fluffy breasts and stroke him up and down. My favorite part of giving a tittyfuck is how easy it is to see his face and watch him enjoy the sensation.
Plus, you can talk dirty, which is something that you can’t do when your mouth is full during a blowjob.
“Do you like the way my soft tits feel wrapped around your big hard cock?”
“They’re like warm, fleshy pillows,” he says.
I drag them to his tip slowly, then slap them down against his body. Fast, then slow. Then I alternate directions as though I’m kneading clay. The sensation overwhelms him quickly, and soon he’s panting like he wants to bust a nut.
I release his cock and rub his stomach to cool him down.
“As much I’d love a nice pearl necklace, I want you to fuck me first.”
He nods his agreement.
I lie down on the bed outside of the covers; gently so as not to disturb my husband’s peaceful ignorance. Billy climbs on top of me, clasps both of my hands, and then pins them down against the pillow next to my head. Using only his hips, he steers his throbbing cock into my wet pussy. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
He brings his lips to mine and kisses me until I’m gasping for air. Part of me thinks he just wants our faces connected so he can’t see Max. I love the way he kisses, so you won’t hear me complaining.
I also love how his huge cock feels inside me. And he knows how to use it, too — yet another advantage of a man his age. The one thing a sex teacher can’t teach is experience.
He mimics what I was doing during the titty fuck by pushing in hard and dragging his cock out. With every thrust, he flexes his abs; with every pull, he clenches his ass.
Feeling his weight on me, hearing the sound of our pelvises colliding, smelling his salty skin — it puts me over the edge.
“I’m coming!” I yell.
He glances at Max, but I turn his face back towards me. “Don’t worry; he’s deaf,” I say. “Just keep fucking me.”
Full disclosure: Max isn’t completely deaf, but I need Billy’s undivided attention right now.
Billy responds by pounding me harder and harder until my pussy begins to quake.
“That’s it, baby, keep going!”
And he does. And just as my body starts to feel weightless, I see that look in Billy’s eyes.
“I’m gonna cum!”
“Yes, baby, cum for — ”
Before I can finish my sentence, he pulls out and blasts his load across my sleeping husband’s neck and face.
Max, of course, is completely oblivious, but you should see the look on poor Billy’s face.
“Oh, my God,” he says. “I can’t believe I just did that. It’s just that I wasn’t wearing a condom, and I didn’t know — ”
I put a finger to his lips. “Shh. It’s fine. Other than the fact that I was supposed to be the one getting a pearl necklace. Seriously, though, it’s my fault for not telling you that I’m on the pill and you could cum inside me.”
He sighs. “Are you sure?”
“Definitely.”
I scoop a glob of jizz off Max’s face and taste it. “Mmm. Salty. Like anchovies.”
Billy laughs and collapses on the pillow next to me.
“I hope this doesn’t ruin the experience for you,” he says, “but I’m not actually a delivery boy. I’m the owner of the restaurant. I own a whole nationwide chain of pizza joints, actually.”
“You don’t say.”
Interesting. So, he’s not actually poor.
“Yep. The other day, I heard some of my guys talking about this lady that invites them into her house and fucks them when they show up to deliver her pizza. I figured, since I’m the boss, I’d like to get in on the action, too.”
“And what did you think of the experience?”
“Your pie is as good as advertised.”
“That’s good to hear, because um… I’m thinking of investing in a chain of pizza restaurants.”
By that, I mean I’ll soon be in the market for a new wealthy sugar daddy.
“Is that so? Because I happen to be looking for some new investors.”
If that’s his way of telling me he’s looking for a new trophy wife, then maybe we can work something out.
As long as he’s willing to let me keep fucking all his employees.