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D ESCRIPTION: After an ugly divorce, Reagan doesn't trust of men, and unwilling to let them get close, only has sex with each man she meets once. Frustrated with men, she calls her twin sister, and together they decide to go after young men. Already a member of a hookup site, Reagan searches through profiles of boys, and chatting with one, invites him over. Opening the front door wearing heels and a smile, she's shocked to find her son staring at her. EXCERPT: Flinching when the tablet dinged, signaling an incoming instant message, Reagan brought the chat window forward. Clicking on the message, a small window opened, and reading the words, Reagan smiled. I like wild cougars digging their sharp claws into me. I’m young and hung. Interested? Reagan’s fingers hovered over the tablet a minute. Might be. I’m on the hunt for worthy prey. How old are you? 22. and you’ll find me worthy prey… I fight back. MMM. I like a challenge. brb, I wanna look at your profile. I’m 42. Perfect. Take your time, ma’am. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Scrolling through various pics of the young man’s hard, thick, enormous cock, Reagan licked her lips, and liking his ripped chest and muscled legs, she sighed. New text messages from other young men popped up in the chat window, but sure she’d already found the right one, Reagan ignored them. Her heart racing, Reagan’s fingers tapped letters on the tablet. Is that thing loaded with more than one bullet? Yes, ma’am. Most times… it’s a six shooter. Hmm. I like a man that can shoot more than once, gunslinger. Then I’m your man… and I reload quick. How’s your stamina? The first time, my gun shoots fast, but after that, it takes a while to pull the trigger. Wanna fuck me tonight? I want all six bullets. Oh, yeah. Your body is smokin’ hot. Just like my mom’s. God, I really wanna fuck her. Ooh, you’re a bad boy. I like bad boys. I dream about fucking my son almost every night. He’s your age. Nice. Pretend I’m your son. Seeing his message, Reagan’s blood grew hotter and she moved her hand to her pussy, massaging her folds. Mom likes it rough, son… really rough. Can you give me that? Mom, I’ll take you hard. Fuck, son. You’re making mom wet. When can you be here? Gotta shower. Will ten work? I’m free all night. Works for me. Son, if you fuck mom hard, I want you to stay ‘til morning. I’ll drill your pussy deep, mom… you’ll ask me to stay. Give me your address. Reagan sent him the address and typed a new message. No names. Tonight, I’m mom and you’re my son. Reagan’s fingers tapped against her thigh as she waited for her young man to respond. A minute later, and worried her message didn’t go through, she finally typed. '???' Another forty-five agonizing seconds elapsed before a message popped into the window. Got it, mom. I’ll be there at ten. Great. Son, when you get here, I don’t wanna talk, just fuck me. Anything in particular you want mom to wear? Open the door wearin’ nothing but heels. You said you just wanted to fuck. Why waste time? Ooh. Just heels, I like it. Don’t forget, son… mom wants it rough. I’ll give you what you want. Gotta run. See ya at ten. Can’t wait, son.
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