“You’re struggling, sweetheart,” she purred, her voice a velvet rumble that sent shivers down your spine. Her fingers traced lazy circles on the back of your head, guiding—but not forcing—your movements. “But I love the effort.” Her words were warm, teasing, and dripping with a confidence that made your cheeks burn. You tried to focus, to take her deeper, but the sheer size of her was overwhelming. Her cock, as long as your forearm and thicker than a soda can, stretched your lips to their limit. Your jaw ached, your throat protested, but you couldn’t stop. Not when she smelled like vanilla and musk, not when her thighs were warm and inviting beneath your trembling hands, and certainly not when you could hear the faint, wet sloshing of her massive testicles, heavy with what felt like gallons of thick, creamy seed. “That’s it,” she murmured, her tone both encouraging and amused. Her hips rocked slightly, not enough to choke you, but enough to remind you who was in control. “Relax your throat. You’re doing so well.” You wanted to argue, to tell her that doing well wasn’t possible when you could barely take half of her, but the sound that escaped your lips was a muffled whimper instead. Her cock pulsed against your tongue, hot and alive, and you could feel her arousal building, her body tensing as she watched you struggle to pleasure her. How had you even gotten here? ---It started innocently enough—or as innocent as these things could be. You’d been at a friend’s party, the kind of gathering where the music was just loud enough to drown out awkward silences but not so loud that you couldn’t hold a conversation. She’d been there, of course. She—the kind of woman who turned heads without even trying. Older, confident, and stunningly beautiful, she’d been perched on the edge of a couch, a glass of wine in her hand and a smirk on her lips. You’d caught her watching you more than once, her eyes dark and unreadable, and each time, you’d felt a jolt of something—excitement, nervousness, desire. When she finally approached you, her heels clicking against the floor, it was like the room had emptied. “You’ve been staring,” she’d said, her voice low and playful. “I could say the same about you,” you’d replied, trying to match her confidence. She’d laughed then, a rich, throaty sound that made your stomach flip. “Touché. But I have a reason.” “And what’s that?” Her smile had been wicked. “You’re exactly my type.” The conversation had flowed easily after that, her charm and wit drawing you in until you’d forgotten about the party altogether. When she’d suggested leaving together, you hadn’t hesitated. Now, here you were, on your knees between her legs, trying—and failing—to handle her massive cock. ---“You’re thinking too much,” she said, her voice pulling you back to the present. Her fingers tightened in your hair, not painfully, but firmly enough to make you look up at her. Her eyes were hooded, her lips slightly parted, and the sight of her—so calm, so in control—made your own arousal spike. “Let me help you,” she whispered, her tone softening. She guided your head back down, her cock pressing against your lips once more. “Open wide for me, sweetheart. That’s it…” You obeyed, your mouth stretching to accommodate her girth, and this time, you managed to take a little more. Her tip brushed the back of your throat, and you gagged instinctively, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she cooed encouragement, her voice low and soothing. “Good girl,” she murmured, her hips rocking gently. “Just like that. Take it slow.” Her praise sent a thrill through you, and you redoubled your efforts, your lips and tongue working tirelessly to please her. You could feel her cock twitching in your mouth, her arousal building, and the sound of her breathing growing heavier. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” she groaned, her fingers tightening in your hair. “I’m close, sweetheart. So close.” You could feel it too—the way her body was tensing, the way her cock was pulsing, the way her massive testicles were drawing up, preparing to unleash their load. Your stomach fluttered with a mix of excitement and apprehension. You wanted this, wanted to feel her cum flooding your throat, but the sheer size of her was intimidating. “That’s it,” she moaned, her voice strained. “Take it all. Take it all.” Her hips bucked once, twice, and then she was cumming, her cock throbbing violently as her seed erupted into your mouth. It was thick, hot, and endless, and you struggled to swallow, your throat working furiously to keep up. “Good girl,” she panted, her fingers rubbing soothing circles on the back of your head. “So good for me.” You could feel her cum filling your stomach, warm and heavy, and your head was spinning with the sheer intensity of it. “Again,” she demanded, her voice firm. “Don’t stop.” You obeyed, your lips and tongue moving eagerly as she groaned above you, her cock already hardening again. “Fuck, you’re incredible,” she breathed, her hips beginning to rock once more. “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart. Not even close.”

You found yourself at a party, caught in a flirtatious conversation with a confident, older woman.  After leaving with her, you ended up on your knees, struggling to accommodate her massive cock, and she encouraged you, guiding your head and praising your efforts.  You managed to take more of her, and she reached climax, filling your mouth with her thick, hot seed, and demanded that you continue.

“You’re *struggling*, sweetheart,” she purred, her voice a velvet rumble that sent shivers down your spine. Her fingers traced lazy circles on the back of your head, guiding—but not forcing—your movements. “But I *love* the effort.”  

Her words were warm, teasing, and dripping with a confidence that made your cheeks burn. You tried to focus, to take her deeper, but the sheer *size* of her was overwhelming. Her cock, as long as your forearm and thicker than a soda can, stretched your lips to their limit. Your jaw ached, your throat protested, but you couldn’t stop. Not when she smelled like vanilla and musk, not when her thighs were warm and inviting beneath your trembling hands, and certainly not when you could hear the faint, wet *sloshing* of her massive testicles, heavy with what felt like gallons of thick, creamy seed.  

“That’s it,” she murmured, her tone both encouraging and amused. Her hips rocked slightly, not enough to choke you, but enough to remind you who was in control. “Relax your throat. You’re doing so *well*.”  

You wanted to argue, to tell her that *doing well* wasn’t possible when you could barely take half of her, but the sound that escaped your lips was a muffled whimper instead. Her cock pulsed against your tongue, hot and alive, and you could feel her arousal building, her body tensing as she watched you struggle to pleasure her.  

How had you even gotten here?  

---

It started innocently enough—or as innocent as these things could be. You’d been at a friend’s party, the kind of gathering where the music was just loud enough to drown out awkward silences but not so loud that you couldn’t hold a conversation. She’d been there, of course. *She*—the kind of woman who turned heads without even trying. Older, confident, and stunningly beautiful, she’d been perched on the edge of a couch, a glass of wine in her hand and a smirk on her lips.  

You’d caught her watching you more than once, her eyes dark and unreadable, and each time, you’d felt a jolt of something—excitement, nervousness, *desire*. When she finally approached you, her heels clicking against the floor, it was like the room had emptied.  

“You’ve been staring,” she’d said, her voice low and playful.  

“I could say the same about you,” you’d replied, trying to match her confidence.  

She’d laughed then, a rich, throaty sound that made your stomach flip. “Touché. But I have a reason.”  

“And what’s that?”  

Her smile had been wicked. “You’re exactly my type.”  

The conversation had flowed easily after that, her charm and wit drawing you in until you’d forgotten about the party altogether. When she’d suggested leaving together, you hadn’t hesitated.  

Now, here you were, on your knees between her legs, trying—and failing—to handle her massive cock.  

---

“You’re thinking too much,” she said, her voice pulling you back to the present. Her fingers tightened in your hair, not painfully, but firmly enough to make you look up at her. Her eyes were hooded, her lips slightly parted, and the sight of her—so calm, so in control—made your own arousal spike.  

“Let me help you,” she whispered, her tone softening. She guided your head back down, her cock pressing against your lips once more. “Open wide for me, sweetheart. That’s it…”  

You obeyed, your mouth stretching to accommodate her girth, and this time, you managed to take a little more. Her tip brushed the back of your throat, and you gagged instinctively, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she cooed encouragement, her voice low and soothing.  

“Good girl,” she murmured, her hips rocking gently. “Just like that. Take it slow.”  

Her praise sent a thrill through you, and you redoubled your efforts, your lips and tongue working tirelessly to please her. You could feel her cock twitching in your mouth, her arousal building, and the sound of her breathing growing heavier.  

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” she groaned, her fingers tightening in your hair. “I’m close, sweetheart. So close.”  

You could feel it too—the way her body was tensing, the way her cock was pulsing, the way her massive testicles were drawing up, preparing to unleash their load. Your stomach fluttered with a mix of excitement and apprehension. You *wanted* this, wanted to feel her cum flooding your throat, but the sheer *size* of her was intimidating.  

“That’s it,” she moaned, her voice strained. “Take it all. **Take it all**.”  

Her hips bucked once, twice, and then she was cumming, her cock throbbing violently as her seed erupted into your mouth. It was thick, hot, and *endless*, and you struggled to swallow, your throat working furiously to keep up.  

“Good girl,” she panted, her fingers rubbing soothing circles on the back of your head. “So good for me.”  

You could feel her cum filling your stomach, warm and heavy, and your head was spinning with the sheer *intensity* of it.  

“Again,” she demanded, her voice firm. “Don’t stop.”  

You obeyed, your lips and tongue moving eagerly as she groaned above you, her cock already hardening again.  

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” she breathed, her hips beginning to rock once more. “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart. **Not even close**.”

A gorgeous, over-endowed futanari MILF seduces a younger partner, who struggles to handle her massive cock and the gallons of thick, creamy seed she has to offer.

The narrative explores themes of size difference, dominance and submission, and the intense pleasure and challenge of pleasing an over-endowed partner.

The story begins at a party, where the MILF approaches the protagonist, leading to an intense and overwhelming sexual encounter.

The protagonist struggles to take the MILF's massive cock, which is as long as their forearm and thicker than a soda can, and is filled with gallons of thick, creamy seed.

The MILF takes control, guiding the protagonist and praising their efforts as she brings them to the brink of ecstasy.

Fucked by Futa Milf

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