Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 656: Freya’s Filthy Grip: Foreskin Stretched

Emily didn’t hesitate. She quickly grabbed the stack of plates Freya had prepared, her fingers trembling as she clutched them to her chest. She didn’t look at me.

She didn’t look at her sister. She just ran, bolting out of the kitchen like her ass was on fire, her dress still slightly askew, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. The door swung shut behind her, leaving me alone with Freya, the scent of Emily’s arousal still thick in the air.

My cock ached, straining painfully against my pants, my fingers still glistening with Emily’s wetness. I brought them to my lips, sucking them clean, one by one, my eyes never leaving Freya’s.

The taste of Emily lingered on my tongue—sweet, musky, intoxicating. Freya’s gaze darkened as she watched me, her lips parting slightly, her breath hitching almost imperceptibly. She wasn’t immune to this. Not even close.

"Jack," she said, her voice a low, velvety command, "bring those dishes with you."

I nodded, my movements slow and deliberate, my body still humming with unresolved lust. I grabbed the remaining dishes Freya had prepared, my fingers brushing against the warm ceramic, grinding me just enough to keep from pouncing on her right then and there. I walked out of the kitchen, my steps measured, my cock still throbbing with every movement.

The dining table was already set, Emily sitting stiffly in her chair, her cheeks still flushed, her eyes downcast. Nancy and Suzy were there too, their gazes flicking between Emily and me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and something far more heated. I placed the dishes on the table, my movements controlled, but my body betrayed me—the bulge in my pants impossible to hide.

Freya followed me out, her hips swaying with every step, a bowl of salad held casually in her hands. She moved behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her body, close enough that her breath ghosted over the back of my neck as she leaned in to set the salad down.

"Good boy," she murmured, her voice so low that only I could hear it. Her fingers brushed against my back, just for a second, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through me.

She pulled away, her smirk firmly back in place as she took her seat at the table, her eyes gleaming with mischief. The game wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. And Freya? She was just getting started.

I sat down next to Freya—it was the only empty seat left.

The moment I sat beside Freya, the air between us crackled with something electric, something dangerous. She leaned back in her chair, her pregnant belly pressing against the table’s edge, her smirk already promising trouble.

Emily sat across from us, her fingers trembling as she served the food, her cheeks still flushed from our encounter in the kitchen.

Suzy and Nancy chattered beside her, their voices bright and oblivious, discussing the latest fashion trends, bags, and all the things women talked about when they wanted to pretend the world wasn’t burning around them.

But the world was burning—for me, at least.

Emily slid a plate toward me, and that’s when I felt it—Freya’s hand, warm and deliberate, brushing against my thigh. My breath hitched as her fingers trailed upward, her touch feather-light at first, then firmer, more possessive.

She pressed her palm against my cock, her fingers curling around the thick outline, making me gasp. I clenched my teeth, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the edge of the table, fighting to keep my reaction hidden.

Freya’s smirk deepened. She ate with her spoon in one hand, her movements graceful, her voice light as she joined the conversation. But her other hand? That one was busy.

Her fingers worked at the zipper of my pants, pulling it down with agonizing slowness, the sound of the teeth parting muffled beneath the chatter.

My cock strained against my pants, already leaking pre-cum, already aching for her touch. Freya didn’t disappoint. She slipped her hand inside, her fingers wrapping around my cock, her thumb brushing over the damp fabric of my pants.

I bit back a groan, my body tensing as she pulled my cock free, the cool air hitting the sensitive skin. Freya’s fingers traced the length of my cock, her touch maddeningly slow, her thumb circling the head before she began to play with my foreskin.

She pulled it back gently, exposing the glistening tip, her fingers twisting slightly as she rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. The sensation was electric—pleasure and torture all at once.

"Mmm," she hummed softly, her voice barely audible over the conversation, her fingers continuing their slow, deliberate torment.

She pulled my foreskin back further, her thumb pressing against the sensitive underside of my cockhead, her touch sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I could feel the wetness of my pre-cum smearing beneath her fingers, my hips twitching involuntarily as she worked me.

Freya’s touch was expert—she knew exactly how to drive me crazy. She rolled my foreskin back and forth, her fingers twisting just enough to make me gasp, her thumb pressing against the slit of my cock, spreading the pre-cum in slow, teasing circles. My breath came in ragged bursts, my fingers digging into the table as I fought to keep from moaning aloud.

Emily, Suzy, and Nancy were still chatting, their voices a distant hum in my ears. Freya’s voice was light, her laughter easy, but her hand? That was another story. She stroked me, her fingers sliding up and down my shaft, her thumb still playing with my foreskin, pulling it back just enough to expose the most sensitive parts of me before rolling it forward again.

"You’re so hard, Jack~..." she murmured, her voice a dark, sinful whisper, her fingers tightening around me. She pulled my foreskin back again, her thumb pressing against the ridge of my cockhead, her touch sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. I could feel my pre-cum dripping, my cock throbbing in her grip, my body begging for release.

And then—she stopped.

Freya’s hand was gone, leaving my cock swinging free, the cool air hitting the wet, aching flesh. The spoon slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor with a sharp clink. "Oh," she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

She turned to me, her eyes wide, her hand pressing lightly against her pregnant belly. "Jack, help me pick it up?" she said, her voice sweet, her smirk betraying every word.