Old Ladies, Thongs, & Blizzards

"Jeez, I don't know if I'll ever be warm again," Blake said, rubbing his palms together, trying to get the blood flowing.

"I know," his wife concurred, blowing into her hands.

"I can warm you up..." Greta offered, letting her true intentions rise to the surface for a moment, a clue that a more paranoid ear would have caught. But April didn't know to listen. Not yet, anyway. This was one of those clues that happy couples like them miss, and it always led to disaster. There were so many things on the tip of Greta's tongue that she could say and do to make her intentions known. She could have opened her robe and offered the young white boy to warm his hands between her monster jugs. She could have simply offered him the chance to slip into her bed right now and let her warm him up personally, skin on skin, till they were both hot and sweaty. She could give him a few ideas on how to really get the blood flowing, but she didn't. She held her tongue and simply kept smiling. "Let me put on some coffee. But let me go change first, get cleaned up now that I have guests."

"Oh, go ahead, we don't want to be a bother," April replied as the older black woman sauntered off.

Once Blake figured out what city he was in, he sat down at the dining room table, pushing some heavy files to the side as he set the phone book down and scanned it, looking for a shop or a tow-truck or anyone who could help. As he rang up a few numbers, Greta emerged, still clad in her robe but slightly more made-up. Yet another clue. She gets all cleaned up, but she's still wearing that robe. A more trained eye would have to wonder what this thick bodied, middle-aged woman had on beneath the robe. A trained eye would notice the little extra jiggle up top, her breasts rippling lusciously with every step, as if she had put on an extra-bouncy bra for just that purpose. A more paranoid woman would only be speculating about whether or not there was now a thong wedged between this older black woman's ass cheeks.

And unfortunately for young April, there now was. And it was a tiny, lacy, sexy one at that, wedged between the large, round, juicy cheeks of the older black woman's ass, the type that could lure wayward white boys into forsaking their marriage vows. April's naivety and friendly nature were gonna be her undoing.

Greta slipped a steaming mug of coffee onto the table in front of him, using the chance the chance to check out the younger man's handsome features without him knowing. Bright, blue eyes. Brown hair, a little unkempt, adding a shagginess that really appealed to the older woman. He had nice kissable lips, and a cute smile. Even in his bulky clothing, it looked like he had a nice body. She couldn't wait to strip him out of all that and fully see what he was working with. He had a pale complexion, which contrasted nicely with her own dark skin. She could imagine how hot it would be when their bare flesh was pressed together in heated sexual action.

Blake either got no response or firm denials from the people he was seeking help from on the phone. No one was going out in this weather, and Blake, despite his annoyance, couldn't really blame them. He hung up, frustrated, as the two women watched news coverage of the weather.

"How's it look?" Blake asked, his eyes drifting towards the window. The sun had set, and the swirling wind and snow was barraging the house. The wind made the walls shake.

"Really bad," April said, looking back at him, smiling warmly. His heart filled with love for her. She could be really mad at him right now for this gambit to try to catch the flight, but she was loving and patient and kind. If only she knew what was about to happen, if she knew what the fallout of this mistake would be, she'd be furious. But she didn't, so she wasn't. "Any luck?"

"No..." he replied. "I got no's or no responses."

"What are we gonna do?" April asked.

"Maybe find a hotel?" he offered.

"Oh, honey, there ain't a hotel around here for miles," Greta stated, shaking her head. This was, of course, a lie. Seasoned huntresses like her were gifted in the art of effortlessly lying. There was a hotel a mile or so down the road, a nice one in fact, but they didn't need to know that. Greta needed to keep them here, in her clutches. Her open-ended response was a hint for them, as she tried to induce the young couple into making a crucial error. The biggest mistake they would ever make. She was simply waiting for them to catch on. They had no reason to doubt her, because of the warm, kind image she had wisely presented herself as. Blake looked at his wife, and she looked back at him, the same idea was crossing both of their minds.

"Greta, I know we're putting you out a lot, already, and we're asking way more than anyone should expect, but... would it be possible for us to crash here for the night? We'll be out of the way, we'll make it up to you. I mean, if you say no, we'll completely understand and we'll be on our way, but..." Blake asked.

"Oh, honey, I ain't sending you two back out there in that! Of course you can stay." Greta replied with a warm smile. It was all going exactly as she wanted, and she could barely prevent her warm smile from becoming wicked. Neither Blake nor April noticed anything amiss. They were too thankful for her kindness. April nodded and smiled, tears coming to her eyes.

"Thank you!" April said, hugging the older woman.

"Child, I'm not a monster! You always help those in need. That's what my mama taught me, and besides... you seem like good kids. Now go on, get comfortable." Greta said, smiling at the two. She was SO close now! Blake's married cock was so close to ending up inside her tight black, dripping cunt, and he didn't even know it! This was so much fun! Greta could barely contain herself, and she couldn't help but push her luck slightly. She gathered the now empty mugs, looking to refill them all, and in the process, she allowed one of her huge breasts to brush against the seated young man's back, teasing him ever so slightly. "Now what made this flight so important?"

"Oh, uh, it was our first Christmas now that we're married," April said, taking off her coat, her husband doing the same. "We were flying home. We just celebrated the holiday with family, and we were flying back. But... that's not happening, clearly. Was really looking forward to that nice weather, though! I mean, that's why we moved out there, but now..."

Greta smiled sadly with refreshed mugs.

"Now, how'd you two meet?" Greta asked, changing the subject.

"Well, we went to school together," Blake began. "I was on the football team, she was a cheerleader, I mean, the story writes itself!" he laughed. Greta smiled as she looked at the younger, brown-haired man. She could certainly see the athletic background in him as he stood tall and fit. All those young muscles. She couldn't wait to run her hands across them. Thin, narrow, aged fingers like hers were meant to feel young firm muscles like his. He was in his early twenties, Greta surmised, probably not too much out of college. His youthful looks were evident, yet the five o'clock shadow on his face added a bit of ruggedness to him. He might have some boyish charm, but there was a man in there. Greta would coax it out him.

"He had this really bad moment in this one game..." April began, shaking the snow out of her dirty-blonde hair.

"Thanks for reminding me," Blake interjected with a wry smile. His wife smiled warmly at him.

"I had never talked to him, but after the game, we talked it out, and I let him know it was okay, that this one silly game wasn't everything. We started dating soon after, and ever since, it's been... magic." April said, smiling lovingly at her husband.

"She was so pretty," Blake recalled. He remembered how she looked that day, dressed in her cheerleader outfit. She'd only gotten prettier the longer they'd been together. She had dirty-blonde hair, long and straight, going halfway down her back. She was slim, with a small, cute, perky butt and equally cute, perky B-cups. She had warm, friendly features, welcoming, twinkling eyes, a slim nose, thin smooth lips, and a light, pale, smooth complexion. "She was like an angel for me... the angel I needed."

"Aww, that's a great story," the older black woman said to them, her voice smooth. It was a rather droll story, to be honest. These young fools had deluded themselves into thinking their lives were part of some grand love story. They didn't understand the harsh realities of the world. The real world she knew would snuff out any happy ending. The black woman couldn't help but wonder how the young wife would feel once she sees her husband making out with a much older black woman. How she would feel when she sees her husband squeezing her big old black tits? How great would her love story be then?

Greta smiled to herself. If this was a fairy tale, then Greta was the evil, scheming villainess. In the stories, those evil villainesses lost in the end. But this was real life, and the sunny, pretty, skinny little princess wasn't gonna get the happy ending. No, she'd be cast to the dungeon, forgotten, and Prince Charming would pair up with the older, curvaceous Evil Queen, and he'd live happily ever after in her evil clutches.

"So, what brings you out here?" Blake asked, sitting back, running his fingers through his brown hair.

"You mean, what's a sista doing out here in the boonies?" Greta replied with a laugh. "I used to live in the city, but it was so busy. I still work out there, but... I needed to get away. I needed some quiet. Some privacy. I like the peace and quiet. No interruptions... usually." She added with a nod, making the couple laugh. But to herself, she thought, yeah, she didn't want any interruptions during the loud, forceful sex she loved to have. Like the sex she would soon be having with Blake. She had a plan, and it was about to be brought to a head. She just had to be patient.

They chatted and sipped coffee as night truly set in. Greta was willing the night to get darker, and the weather to worsen. When the time came, they had to feel like there was no place for them to go. And of course, the young naïve wife wasn't catching on. Wasn't realizing that she was already the fly in the spider's trap. Blake's cock was practically already buried in Greta's hot older cunt. April had begun to tire out from their long day, Greta noticed, so the older woman began to clean up. And as she took their finished mugs into the kitchen, she spoke up.

"Well, I like you two," Greta began with a cheery smile. "And even if this blizzard lasts a few days, you're welcome to stay till it clears up," she offered. "I got plenty of food and drinks. We don't have to go anywhere!"

"Greta, that's..." Blake began.

"That's amazing," April finished. "We are so grateful, you have no idea!" Greta paused, standing in the hallway near her bedroom and the restroom. As Greta had informed them, it was a small house, one floor, two bedrooms, but one of them was crowded with her work stuff, leaving it unviable as a guestroom, so the couple assumed they would be crashing on the couches, which was fine.

"Well, before things wind down, I do have to tell you..." Greta began, looking at the couple sitting in her living room, ready to set her plan into motion. "There is gonna be one small cost for you staying here tonight..." Greta said.

"Oh, anything!" April said with a laugh.

"I'm glad to hear it!" Greta replied, smiling. Then, with the swirling, bracing winter winds rocking the country house, making the wood of the home wince and whine, as if trying to warn the couple about the danger within, Greta reached down, undid the belt on her robe, and let the thick pink garment drop to the ground. The smiles quickly fell from the faces of the happy couple.

The predator had revealed her true colors.

Greta, this nice, pretty, middle-aged black lady, who had taken them in and sheltered them from the storm, was now standing in front of them, almost completely exposed, wearing shockingly slutty lingerie.

Her curvy legs were covered by smooth, black sheer stockings. Her thighs were thick, but sexy, and that's where the stockings ended, being held up, connected to the black lace garter belt on her waist. Underneath the garter belt was her tiny, sexy lace thong, the tiny triangle barely covering her pussy, before connecting to the tiny black string running through the deep crevasse of her full, round, juicy ass. She spun around to give them a better look.

Now, Greta was a middle-aged woman, so she had some extra meat on her bones. Not fat, mind you, she was just thick, which meant her belly had a bit of extra softness to it, and she had a big, shapely ass. Each cheek was just meaty, jiggling with every step lusciously, with the firmness and perkiness of a woman many years younger. It jutted out from her frame like a shelf, standing out, begging to be appreciated. In her daily life, she would wear tight pants to show off its juicy, round, imposing shape and the luscious, mouth-watering cleft in between, making even the most composed man drool. And now, standing in a thong, the garment framing her firm ass, and the tiny string bisecting the firm cheeks... wow... just wow. Combining that with her luscious, smooth chocolate skin color, and you've got one fantastically sexy ass. Its naughtiness was only accentuated by the fact that it was on the body of a 50-year-old woman. It was so wrong, but so sexy.

But that wasn't even the best part of her.

As she spun, their eyes traveled up her taut back, and as she turned to face them again, they took in the view of her mammoth black breasts. And they were just absolute fucking monsters, GG cups. They were huge. They were round. They were smooth. And they looked so, so soft! They were so full they formed natural, luscious, mouth-watering cleavage. They jiggled with every move she made. The large udders were stuffed into a black sheer bra, meaning that they could see everything. They could see their full shape. They could see her large, smooth areolas, capped with hard, rubbery nipples. The tight bra could barely contain them, and the thin straps dug into her shoulders. The smooth, shiny chocolate skin of her copious breast flesh looked incredible. And on her face, she wore a confident, unrecognizable, wicked smirk.

"Greta!" April called out, standing up, shocked. "What are you doing?"

Blake was stunned as well, his eyes wide, unable to stop himself from staring at the mature, ebony goddess standing in front of him, too stunned to speak.

He could barely comprehend the sight he was seeing. Most men couldn't, at least at the start. For the first time, he made the connection between older women and sex. For the first time, an older woman was putting the moves on him, in a major way, and he just couldn't deal with it. Thoughts of older women and sex, of MILFS and fucking, swirled through his head, forming a forbidden cocktail that swirled through his veins, making him dizzy with their potency. He certainly didn't know how this sight was changing him. What he was looking at was a prime, juicy, succulent mom-bod, and even as an outside observer, and knowing how dangerous she was, it was hard to deny her appeal.

"Should I not expect some kind of reward for my generosity?" Greta said, her friendly tone now tinged with poison. "You did say anything... right?"

"Greta, this is... this is not what we had in mind," April said. Greta looked at the young wife dismissively, before looking at the object of her affection.

"So, here's the deal," Greta began, undeterred. "If you two are staying in my house, you play by my rules. Which means, April, my dear, you sleep on the couch, and Blake... you'll be sleeping with me. But to be honest, we're not gonna do much sleeping." Her tone had hardened. The nice old black lady she had initially presented herself as was gone. And in its place, something far different. Something worse.

"Greta, is this a weird joke or something?" Blake said, finding his words. "Cause this is crazy!"

"Is it?" Greta replied, her face almost smugly mocking his naivety. "I think you're already fantasizing about screwing me. Aren't you, baby?"

"What? No!" he declared, looking away from her, affirming to his wife that he was still loyal. Sure, he had noticed that this older black lady had a shockingly hot body. And sure, flashes of her in heated sexual action had crossed his mind. And despite her age, if he wasn't married, he wouldn't be objecting quite so much, because it did seem like it would be an enjoyable experience, despite their age difference. But he couldn't tell his wife that.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Greta, but no, it's not gonna happen!" April said solidly, as she moved towards her husband, joining forces.

"Hmm, well, if you say no, you can feel free to leave..." Greta threatened, gesturing towards the door.

"You wouldn't..." Blake replied, feeling a cold grip of realization around his heart.

"I would. I am that serious." Greta said, running a palm under one of her massive orbs, playing with the soft flesh. Despite his objection, Blake kept one eye on her quivering jugs.

"What if we don't leave?" April replied, trying to catch the black woman. "What if we just stay apart, and just refuse to leave till the morning?"

"Well, then, I'll call my cop friend who lives down the road," Greta threatened. "He might not want to drive, but when I tell him a strange white couple broke into my house, I'll think he'll come running..." She let the threat hang over them for a moment. "Well, I'll let you two talk. And when you realize you have no other choice, I'll be waiting..." she turned and strutted out of the room, into the bedroom, shaking her big, thong-clad ass as she did so, leaving the door open a crack.

The battle was over. Checkmate. In one cunning strike, she had won. They just didn't know it yet. Once she was out of view, the young couple began to panic.

"What the fuck?" Blake said in a panic, grabbing his head in shock.

"What the hell do we do?" April said. "Do we just leave?"

"Hon, we'll never make it out there," Blake said, pragmatically, realization beginning to settle in. "Even if we get back to the car, we'll freeze!"

"What if we just stay here, do nothing? She can't force you into anything!" April said.

"Then she'll call the cops!" Blake replied, trying to ignore the forces seemingly drawing him into sin.

"If she calls the cops, could we just... explain what happened?" April asked.

"I don't know! If she knows the cops, then they'll believe her," Blake said, again being practical. A silence fell and Blake voiced the only option left.

"What if..." he began, not believing what he was about to say. "What if I just... go through with it? What if I just do it?"

"What? No! You can't!" April replied. "You couldn't possibly want to fuck her!"

"Of course not!" Blake said. "But... I don't see another option here."

"Blake, she's an old lady. And she's, like, crazy!" April affirmed.

"I know!" Blake replied. "I don't want to do this either! But we're kinda boned here. I don't know what else to do!" April tried to think up anything, any other option, but Blake could tell she was coming around to the only possible outcome.

"I... I..." April stammered.

"Look, like you said, she's an old lady. She's not some supermodel. She's not a porn star. If I'm, like, forced to do this, then, isn't it best to do this with someone like her? Someone I won't enjoy it with that much?" Blake asked. April shrugged she shoulders.

"I... I... I don't know, baby," April said, her eyes tearing up, knowing he was right.

"April, I am so sorry for this," Blake said, hugging his wife. "This is my fault. I never should have put us in this mess."

"No, it's not you... it's her. It's that twisted bitch!" April spat out, her feelings towards this older woman now understandably negative.