Misc. Erotica MILF Apartments

Shaking my head and putting the older Italian sexpot out of my mind, I began testing the faucet to see if I could figure anything out. After a few minutes of fiddling around, I noticed that the nob on the hot water turned a far shorter distance to release its water than the cold nob.

I pulled out my phone and looked up the issue. After inspecting the faucet, I saw that it had two circular filters between the cold and hot sides. I read through the instructions online and went out and downstairs, and got a couple of tools, then came back into the apartment.

Gia was singing to her music in the kitchen, it sounded like Etta James, the woman sure had pipes on her. I appreciated her voice as I paused before my job. I sat there for a minute, thinking out the problem and my solution, then how I was planning on fixing it. Each step, I broke down and saw in my mind’s eye. I caught several small mistakes I was about to make, such as water held in the pipes would spill out once I untightened it, and to double-check the water pressure was off before I started unscrewing anything.

Feeling reasonably confident I thought of everything, I got to work. The job proved to be easier than I thought, and I had the filter removed in just a couple of minutes. It was filled with tiny pebbles and silt, and I saw right away that it was what had been blocking up the flow. I cleaned the filter out and was reinstalling it when Gia came into the bathroom.

“How’s it going in here?” She asked, bending over to peer under the sink.

I lay on my back, working above my head, and when I glanced down to let her know it was done, I couldn’t help but stare at the massive expanse of pale breast flesh on display through her hanging shirt. I forced myself to meet her dark eyes once she noticed me staring and grinned.

“I think I have it fixed,” I said, “Just let me get this all back together, and we’ll test it.”

“Wonderful!” She said, “You haven’t had any of your wine, but I suppose you’re a good boy, didn’t want to drink on the job, eh?”

She laughed as she headed back out to the kitchen. I took the other side apart and found the cold filter was filling up as well and would have begun to block the water flow soon.

“Food’s ready when you are!” Gia called back a few minutes later.

“Almost done!” I called back.

It only took a few minutes to put everything back together. I went over everything a second time, double-checking that I’d put everything together correctly, before turning the water pressure back on. When I finally did, I held my breath and gave a relieved sigh when there were no leaks.

I tested the hot and cold water and found they both had the same pressure. I felt a warm surge of pride at seeing the problem fixed. It was silly, all I did was fix a faucet, but it felt as though I’d really done something, and I liked the feeling. I finally took a deep sip of the wine, letting the alcohol warm my belly before headed out to the kitchen.

The smells that hit my nostrils when I entered the tiny kitchen caused my mouth to water. Gia was just putting a large platter of herb and onion focaccia bread on the table, and she beamed at me when I stood in the doorway staring at everything.

“It’s fixed,” I said, “and you shouldn’t have the problem for at least a few years.”

“My hero,” she beamed, her dark eyes alighting as she came over and folded me in a warm hug.

It was such an odd thing. I’d never been hugged or touched by a stranger so much in my life. There was just no denying the woman when her face shone with such warmth and joy. The hug lasted a beat longer than usual, and I had to shift my hips aside to mask the boner that was growing between my legs.

“Have a seat!” She said, “Let’s get some food in you.”

I sat down in the small chair, and she began setting platters of food before me on the table. There was the focaccia, which was soft, yet crisp and tasted heavenly. As well as a plate of cheeses, grilled vegetables, olives, and charcuterie.

As I ate, she sat and talked, sipping her wine occasionally. She told me of her life growing up in Little Italy and about her family that still lived there. The food was delicious, but my stomach rumbled after a few minutes, at the smells emanating from her stovetop and oven.

With a wide grin, she popped up and started pulling the entrée courses over. The woman had cooked enough food to feed an army, and it all smelled and tasted so good. There was a full dish of baked ziti, a platter of grilled vegetables and peppers that was quite spicy, a bowl of marinara with several giant meatballs in it, and a plate of penne and sausages. There was even a tray of chicken parmesan that wouldn’t fit on the small dining table.

I dug in immediately, as Gia refilled my wine glass.

“It’s all so good,” I said, “You really didn’t have to do so much.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said warmly, “Like I said Connor, it really is wonderful to have a male presence around the place again. It seems between here and work I’m swimming in a sea of estrogen sometimes.”

“What do you do?” I asked around a forkful of cheesy baked ziti, sighing in pleasure as the pasta, meat, cheese, and sauce melted together on my tongue.

“I’m a literature professor at Barnard,” she motioned back to the extra room I’d passed earlier, “The written word is my world and passion, along with cooking that is.” She grinned and glanced up at me from under her lashes, “What about you, Connor? What are you planning to study once you sign up for classes?”

It’s not that I was keeping my last name a secret, I just wasn’t advertising who I was. If Gia wanted to believe I was a simple college kid, like I looked, then I was happy to have her keep believing that.

“I plan to focus on business and finance,” I said, “but it’s a liberal arts school and requires that, for undergrad I take at least half my credits in off-major subjects.”

“That’s excellent,” she said, nodding, “I know the program builds a good, well-rounded education. If you take English and literature classes, be sure to let me know. I’m always willing to tutor a handsome young man such as yourself… or at least I would be if I ever had the chance! Make sure you save room for dessert,” she said as she shoved more penne and sausages onto my plate, “I have something special planned.”

There was a dark heat in her voice that caused me to look up at her. She met my eyes with a hungry look that had nothing to do with the food on the table. She rested her face on her palm, elbow leaning on the table as she watched me eat. Her other hand played with the neckline of her top, and I tried not to stare at the pale flesh that kept getting exposed.

Gia is a beautiful woman. Her face is striking, with a strong jawline and dark, enchanting eyes. Her lips are thick and ruby red, and her hair is a thick, lustrous brown, almost black. Her body was slender but not thin, and it was dominated by one of the largest pair of breasts I’d ever seen in my life. They were so big and she so short, the woman seemed quite plump at first glance, but I knew from our hugs, that wasn’t the case. She was slender and firm in all the right places, with thick thighs, hips, and an ass that wobbled happily side to side when she walked.

I could eat no more, and with one final sip of wine, I pushed my plate away and sighed out in pleasure.

“That was amazing, Gia,” I said, patting my belly and slouching down in the chair, “One of the best meals of my life, thank you.”

“It was my pleasure. Now, take a minute and let your food digest.”

She stood and began covering trays and putting them in her fridge. I climbed to my feet and began piling up the dirty dishes.

“Just leave them,” she said, “I’ll get it.”

It’s no problem,” I said as I moved the stack to the sink, “It’s the least I can do.”

When I turned, Gia was standing just behind me, the platter of ziti in her hands as she slid over to the fridge. She glanced up at me, and her eyes grew intense, a tension building between us. I stood there awkwardly, trying to move left or right and sidle past her.

“Here,” she said, her voice warm and seductive, “let me help you… sometimes young men need a helping hand… or two… wouldn’t you agree, Connor?”

“Uhh, yeah,” I said, trying not to stare at her massive breasts right before my eyes.

“I’m so glad you agree,” she breathed out, and set the ziti on the counter and reached down once more and took my hips in her hands, pulling me up against her body as she turned us slowly in the narrow confines of her kitchen.

“It’s so tight in here,” she said, and I didn’t fail to notice the heat lacing through her words, “Tell me, Connor, do you enjoy being in… tight places?”

“I… umm… uhh…” My mind was screaming in panic at me, not because I didn’t like the situation, but because I had no idea what to do. I was frozen, as thoughts and emotions raced through me too fast to register.

“Oh my,” she said with a mischievous smile, “What do we have here?”

She still held my hips as she moved back slightly and glanced down between us. My face burned with embarrassment as I realized my hard-on was tenting the front of my pants out. I hadn’t even realized that it had been pressing into her.

“It seems you brought me a present,” she grinned up at me, eyes bright with lust, her voice a breathy whisper as she went on, “Now you be a good boy and let me give you a little help with that… mhmm, it looks painfully… hard.”

“Gia,” I said, finally managing to get words out of my throat, “What… Why…”

She grinned at me and reaching up placed one soft finger across my lips, silencing me. Her other hand unhooked my belt, causing my eyes to widen.

“I’m a lonely old woman,” she said, her beautiful features belying the old part, “and you’re a handsome young man… Besides… I did tell you I’d planned something special for dessert.”​