Date with Mom’s Friend – Part 3

It had been a few weeks since our first conversation on localmilfs.com. We’d been flirting almost daily, messages layered with subtle hints and quiet confessions that set my imagination on fire. Sometimes I felt Hannah was just one step away from inviting me over, but at the last moment, she’d always pull back, hiding behind reason and caution.

Until the message that changed everything arrived.

“Joshua… I have the evening off tomorrow. Would you come over for dinner? Nothing fancy, I just… really want to see you.” 

My heart leapt into my throat. I replied instantly:

” I’ll be there. And fair warning, I’m not pretending I’m coming just for dinner.” 

The next evening, I stood at her door. She opened it wearing an elegant but simple dress, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Her smile was hesitant, as if she still couldn’t believe she’d actually invited me.

- Come in. - she said softly, stepping aside.

The kitchen smelled of roasted meat and red wine. I sat at the table, but couldn’t take my eyes off her. Every movement, the way she poured the wine, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—felt like a quiet provocation.

- You look breathtaking. - I finally said, stepping closer.

She blushed but didn’t pull away.

- Joshua, don’t start… We haven’t even eaten yet.

I smiled and leaned in, brushing my lips against her neck.

- Dinner can wait. I’ve waited too long for you.

She let out a soft sigh, her body tensing under my touch. At first, she tried to hold on to her composure, but then she turned and our lips met in a deep, hungry kiss.

This wasn’t uncertain flirting or a fleeting touch on the patio anymore. This was desire that had been building for weeks. My hands roamed her waist; she trembled, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

- Joshua… - she whispered between kisses, - if you stay tonight… everything will change.

I looked straight into her eyes.

- That’s exactly what I want.

Dinner was forgotten on the table. Instead, she took my hand and led me to her bedroom, her movements growing more confident, as if she’d finally shed the weight of shame.

Lamplight glinted in her eyes as she sank onto the bed and I leaned over her. Her body was warm, soft, and every kiss made her breath come faster. There was no turning back—no brakes, no more “we shouldn’t.”

That night, Hannah became someone entirely new to me, not my mom’s friend, not the woman from family gatherings, but a woman who awakened a passion stronger than anything I’d ever known.

We fell asleep just before dawn, exhausted, tangled in each other’s arms. When I woke beside her, I saw not regret in her eyes, but a spark of excitement.

And I knew then: this story was only just beginning.