May Story - Miami MILF (Chapter 3) (Patreon)

I drove us out of Miami International Airport and down the local highways. Massive fancy apartments loomed to our left, and downtown Miami beamed to our right in the distance as I drove us over a river. A wave of nostalgia swept me away, making me nearly miss a red light. I hadn’t seen these sights since I was a high school senior, before the family drama really went to shit.

Sunny Isles was only about ten minutes north of South Beach. The roads were surprisingly quiet. Joan directed me and as we got closer, I started to fully realize how fancy this part of town was. We crossed another river and suddenly we were in the Land of the 1 Percenters. Every apartment complex shone brilliantly and looked brand new. Everything was modern and minimalist. I took the last turn and drove down an avenue of a dozen gated communities, colonnaded with massive thick palm trees.

After getting a guest pass from a security guard and parking, Joan led the way to her condo through a courtyard filled with tropical plants circling a lavish fountain in the center. I couldn’t help but stop and stare and go, “Whoa” in Keanu Reeves fashion.

“Riiiiight?” Joan said, “Ugh! It’s good to be home! I really consider this home.”

Joan had let Stella out of her bag and carelessly tugged her along. The alcohol had finally hit her by then. She was loosey-goosey, hiccupping and burping every so often. Small stuff though, nothing crazy.

The hallways were quiet and dim. Even though I had never been there before, the aesthetic soothed me. The colors of the complex were light earth tones. The temperature inside was perfect. Her condo was on the ground floor overlooking the river. There were yachts and boats right there on the harbor next door. I stared out the window in the hallway before she prodded me to her front door.

The inside of her condo was mostly white, with clear tiles and sleek, minimalist furniture. The kitchen was open concept with a bar. The dining room had a nice view of the river. There were two bedrooms with a bathroom each. Nice closet space. Big screen TV. Everything was so fresh.

“Ugh yessss,” Joan said, stretching out her arms.

She dropped her bags and let Stella roam free.

She went for the couch and collapsed on it. She laid there for a while and I stood there awkwardly. I asked where the guest room was and put my stuff in there. I spent some minutes alone worrying about what the next few hours was going to be like with her.

Calm down, I told myself. This isn’t going to be a Mrs. Robinson situation…will it?

When I got nervous like that, I just had to jerk off. Jerking off always eased my nerves, especially before a big date.

“Luuuucas?” she said from the other room in a sing-song voice.

I quickly stopped jerking it. I poked my head out from the guest room. “Y-Yeah?”

Joan was standing by the back door. “Come. Let me show you outside!”

The sliding door in the living room led to a stone walkway that stretched along the river. Beyond it you could see the bridge we drove it and, if you lived on a top floor, downtown Miami off in the distance. I was surprised to see the stars out. I thought that maybe there was too much light pollution there, but they were still visible.

Streetlamps dotted the walkway, giving off a calming light. There was nobody else around us, nor the sound of anybody else around us. I didn’t feel like I was in the United States anymore. This was some strange parallel universe. The vibe was totally different, and just being there made me feel better about life. I realized that I never traveled on my own down south. I was always up north in some cold dreary place.

Joan burped again. I turned around to see that she had fetched a Corona. She put a leash on Stella and the three of us walked down the walkway.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” she said. “Our boat is over there. See the one with the blue stripe? That’s ours. I’m planning to go out tomorrow with Morgan.”

A part of me died. It was really dumb, but I knew I shouldn’t have gotten attached in any way. The hell was I thinking?

Joan then added, “He’s coming by train. He gets off work later than I do. He should arrive in the morning.”

Still. I found it weird that they didn’t just wait to travel together. Something about it didn’t make sense. I shrugged it off. I should appreciate the time I had with her the best I could.

Joan reared her head back as she took a swig of her Corona. At this point, she let out casual short but loud burps without any reservations. They were like gentle background noises.

A community swimming pool was at the end of the walkway. It looked unreal. Massive palm trees loomed over it and several tiny lizards scurried around the patches of grass and up the tree trunks. That’s the thing about Miami that’s pretty cool. Tiny lizards are about as common there as squirrels are in the north.

“I like to take a---urrrpp---dip here in the mornings,” she said. “People don’t usually come here until the afternoon.”

She talked more about the community and what it was like to live there. She never came across any unruly neighbors and people minded their own business while also being openly friendly to each other. When we got back to the apartment, she offered food, only to realize that she barely had anything. This was a vacation home after all. I spotted a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. I turned it over and someone had scribbled on it. The handwriting was terrible, so I couldn’t immediately tell what it said.

“What’s this?” I asked.

She turned around and nearly snatched it from me. She looked at it and smiled. “Ah. This is from the kids. They were here earlier.” She said nothing more of it and put it in her pocket.

“Oh. They’re not around?”

She waved her hand dismissively as she scoured the fridge. “They went back to hang out with their friends. You know. When they get older family vacations stop being a thing. Ah! Here it is.” She pulled open the freezer below and found a bottle of rum. “I always store at least one bottle here and remind everyone not to use it. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

She didn’t answer that and poured us a nightcap. It finally dawned on me how much she was drinking. I enjoyed a burping drunk MILF as much as the next fetishist, but I wondered if something bigger was behind this. There’s always a line with fetishes where it stops being fun and instead concerning.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Joan said. Me staring at the drinks probably gave my thoughts away. Joan sighed and said, “It’s my job that’s been bothering me. Dios. I haven’t been this drunk in a loooong time.” She leaned over the counter and swayed a bit. “Lucas, I am going to be GONE this spring break. I don’t wanna remember ANYTHING from that shiiiit job or have to grade ANY of those stupid kids’ papers.” Her voice wavered and it was like she was getting drunker by the second. “Lemme tell you about this one girl. Freshman. So she doesn’t know MIERDA about real school since seventh and eighth grade were virtual for her, right?”

“Right.”

Joan ranted about this one girl in her class who didn’t know any manners, and never handed in a major assignment on time. Joan brought it up to the girl’s guidance counselor and the girl got upset and told her parents, who in turn got upset at the guidance counselor. The result? The administration told Joan to “cool off”.

“Fuck ‘em!” she said, slamming her glass on the counter. “They only care about their wallets and don’t actually let us teach or do anything for these girls. Now she doesn’t even come to my class and SOMEHOW it’s MY FAULT? How---bbrraaap—is it my fault?”

She swayed a bit after her intense rant. I actually thought she was going to fall, so I reached out to grab her. She laughed it off and shook her head. “I’m fine, mijo. I’m sorry. I got carried away. BUUUUT. That’s been my life. Heh. I think that’s a sign that we should go to bed.”

I finished my drink and bade her goodnight. I made sure she could walk to her own bedroom okay. She staggered by the doorway and held herself there. She turned around and said, “There’s a great Cuban restaurant within walking distance from here. We can go there for breakfast.”

“Oh?”

“You know? Before you see your grandmother?”

“Right, right.”

“You need a good breakfast, and let me tell you, those Cubans know how to make a gooooood breakfast. What time do you need to be at your grandmother’s?”

I shrugged. “Nothing specific. Just within visiting hours.”

Joan then lit up with an idea. Her eyes sparkled as she gasped. “When Morgan comes, you can hang out with us on the boat.”

“R-really?”

“Sure! I already asked him and he’s fine with it. Not every day you get to go on a yacht. Anything for a St. Andrew’s alumni. Or is it alumn? Alumnus? Alumny? Aluminum? Hahaha! Oh, I’m so drunk!”

Being on a boat with Joan Braulio. The thought gave me goosebumps. Was she coming onto me? If her husband was going to be there, that made me even more nervous. What if she approached me and he caught us? Or what if my straying eyes gave it away? She’d probably sunbath. She was the type to just sit out and bask in the sun for hours. I could see it. I wondered what she’d look like in a bikini…

“How far do you go out?” I said.

She leaned back against the doorframe, sliding a little bit from her failure to compose herself. “About as far as South Beach, then we circle around and come back. It’s okay if you can’t come. I’m just saying if you want. It’s an open invitation.”

“Thanks. I think I should head to my grandmother’s though after we eat breakfast.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “How long are you going to be in the area again?”

“A week.”

“Hmmmm—hic!” Her hiccup was high-pitched. She seemed to be deep in thought. Another lump of gas traveled its way up her throat, and she let it out casually. She burped the word “Well” and said, “Ope! Excuse me. Well, lemme know if you want to do something before your flight back. Or maybe we have a drink instead before you go.”

I smiled nervously. “Y-yeah. Maybe.”

Joan recited her number. I was so shy that I could hardly respond. She noticed that I didn’t take out my phone and nearly snapped, “Well, arentcha gonna put it in?”

“Oh, right. Duh!”

I sent her a text so she could save mine. We heard her phone rumble somewhere on the couch. She had left it there after crashing on the couch. I moved to get it but she waved at me dismissively saying, “Leave it. I’m too drunk now. I shouldn’t have my phone on me. HaHAHAhaHahahaHAHA! Goodnight, mijo! Mwah!”

And with that, she closed the door behind her.

I heard one last belch she let out behind the walls, this time not excusing herself.

My nerves gripped me as I undressed in the bathroom to get ready for bed. She called me “mijo”. Twice. That was a term of endearment in Spanish meaning “darling”. Older women generally said it, especially older generations. Women used it willy-nilly to anyone who was a friend. Still, she hadn’t said it until now. Then again, she was drunk. I kept reading into it. Other thoughts raced through my mind. What if I walked in on her naked in the middle of the night? What if I heard her having sex with Morgan when he returned? This felt all kinds of weird. I didn’t know what to think about it. Something was lurking behind Joan’s smiles. They weren’t fake, at least I didn’t think so. But there was something she was hiding.

Oh God, what if this really did become a Mrs. Robinson situation? What would I get myself dragged into? What if Morgan has no idea I’m here and comes earlier than expected and gets mad at her? And me? Maybe I should leave right away in the morning and just leave a note, respectfully declining breakfast.

I pondered over so many things, then jacked off to the thought of her, and then finally drifted off into sleep.