She was a definite MILF, her status as such accentuated by the fact that she was pushing her little baby through the grocery store, the baby carrier settled atop the shopping cart. About five-five, blonde, skinny, pretty in the face, her straight hair tied back in a ponytail, clad in loose grey shorts and a snug-fitting blue baby-doll tee that showcased her perky B-cups. I figured she measured in at 34-23-34, and weighed about a hundred and fifteen.

I followed her surreptitiously as she shopped, then, after she checked out, as she pushed her half-full cart toward a silver-toned mini-man in the parking lot. It was late at night, about nine p.m. on a Tuesday. The parking lot was half full, and while a few people were heading in and out of the mega-complex store, no one noticed as I stalked her.

The woman — mid twenties, I guessed — was occupied with her cooing, babbling baby as she tried to open the rear hatch of her vehicle. Pretending to be the good Samaritan, I stepped up, offered to hold the hatch open as she loaded her groceries.

"Oh, thanks," she said, giving me a somewhat nervous look. But she did not protest as she piled her bags in the back of the vehicle.

I wasn't a very intimidating figure; I have a slight build, angular features, and that night, I wore casual, loose clothing. I wasn't much taller than the woman.

"Hey, no problem," I said as I watched her move, admiring the fine shape of her tight little ass as she deposited her bags in the back of the mini-van. Her legs were lean, well-toned. I wondered if she was some kind of athlete; she was in incredible shape for having had a child that was obviously not even a year old.

Finally, the cart emptied, the woman lifted up the carrier that held her baby and gave me a grateful smile. "Thanks," she said. "I really appreciate it."

I smiled, then slipped the little pistol I always carried with me from under my loose shirt. "You're welcome," I said. "Get in the van and take your clothes off."

Her smile vanished instantly, and she stared at the gun in my hand. Her lips parted, and her face paled. She shuddered. "Oh, fuck," she expelled.

I chuckled. "Yup," I said. "Pretty much."

She lifted her eyes, searched my face. "Oh, please, don't," she pleaded.

I cocked my head. "Go on," I said. "Get in the van, strip down. You try to scream or call for help, and I shoot the kid. Go on."

The woman trembled, recoiling as she gave me a shocked look. "Oh, sweet Jesus!" she huffed. "P-please!"

I gave her a look, waiting. The woman's eyes watered, and she clutched the baby carrier. The little tyke babbled and cooed nonsensically, flailing his little arms and legs. I assumed the baby was a boy by the blue jumper it wore.

"L-look," she said. "I-if it's money you want—"

I sighed. They always tried this. "It's not about money," I said. "It's about pussy. To be specific, your pussy. Now, give it up, or say good-bye to Junior." To accentuate my point, I pointed the .32 in my hand at the infant.

"Oh, God," she lamented, weeping. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking. I noticed the rings on her finger.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm clean. You're not gonna take anything home to the hubby. Now, get in the fucking van, lady."

She shuddered a moment longer, then mutely turned and opened the sliding door of the mini-van. The interior was pretty spacious. Automatically, she set her baby in its carrier in the padded bench seat, securing him in place with the seat belt. She looked back to me as I stood behind her. Her eyes — a soft green, I noticed — were wide with fear.

"Go on," I said. "Get in. Take your clothes off."

Shaking as she cried, the woman complied slowly, crawling in on her hands and knees. She turned to face me, but her eyes were cast down. Sniffling, gasping with humiliation at her impending defilement, she pulled off her top, revealing high-set, braless tits capped with dark little nipples. She glanced to her son, shuddered a little more, then lifted her hips and pushed her shorts and tiny blue thong down and off her legs. Fully naked, she curled up in the space between the rear bench seat and the twin captain's chairs.

I climbed in with her, closed the door. She gave me a fearful look. I looked over her skinny little body.

"Spread your legs," I ordered her, threatening her with my pistol. "Wide. Show me everything. Come on, bitch, do it."

Whimpering, tears streaming down her cheeks, the MILF did as she was told, drawing her legs apart widely. She did not look at me. But I looked at her.

Her little cunt was a work of art. While her body was skinny and sleek and firmly toned, her puffy snatch was fleshy and dark pink, her vulvae shaved smooth, just a little strip of dark blonde pubes above her stiff little clit. She wasn't wet, of course. They never were.

I smiled, smelling her cunt. I leaned over, pressing my mouth to her snatch, sucking on her sweet, warm flesh for a moment. The woman gasped, more in revulsion than anything else. I snaked my tongue out, splitting her lips apart, slobbering on her twat. Then I eased back up.

"Goo-gah-um-mah-bah," babbled the baby.

I chuckled; the woman gasped, looking to her son. I wondered what she thought about the idea of being raped in front of her infant baby. She looked back to me.

"Let me put him in the back," she said. "Please. I-I don't want him to see me like this."

I sneered. "Tough luck, baby. Now unzip my pants," I said, waving the gun.

The woman breathed out, crying again. But with shaking fingers, she tugged on my pants, freeing the button and pulling down the zipper. My pants fell to my knees as I knelt, and my erect cock thrust out. The woman gasped again, looking at my dick.

"What's your name, honey?" I asked her.

"V-Vicky," she said in a trembling voice.

I smiled. "Suck my cock, Vicky," I said. "And do a good job, or the little one gets an overdose of iron."

Her face contorted. "Oh, God!" she cried fearfully. "Do anything you want with me, just leave my little boy alone!"

I chuckled evilly. "You know, you talk too much," I said. "Get a mouthful of dick, bitch."

Vicky stared at me, then rolled forward, bending over. Her slender fingers tilted my dick up as her mouth opened, and she sucked me in, her face contorting with displeasure. I sighed, feeling her lips and tongue working on me. I hissed, settling one hand on the woman's head, urging her to bob back and forth.

"Yeah, that's it, bitch, suck my cock... oh yeah, work it hard. Suck it like you want it. Suck it, you skinny little whore! Suck my cock! Eat my fucking cock! Make me fucking shoot in your mouth, bitch! You know you wanna eat my cum!"

Vicky mumbled and whimpered around my cock as she sucked and pulled and pumped. I reveled in the sensations of her hot mouth; I wondered if her husband got sucked off like this, or if the skinny blonde bitch only gave head as foreplay. Well, she was gonna taste my load, whether she liked it or not.

My victim mouth-fucked my dick hard, sucking and slurping, pumping and even stroking with her hand. They always gave in like this; maybe Vicky just wanted to get me off as quick as she could, just to get it over with. Or maybe, like all little bitches, she enjoyed being abused and humiliated. My dick throbbed in her mouth, tensing and twitching within the tight seal of her slender lips. Her tongue strummed and massaged, her hand stroked and pumped. Saliva glistened along my shaft and at the corners of her hot little mouth.

"Oh, yeah, bitch, keep sucking!" I grunted, making her grunt and gag as I shoved my dick deep in her mouth. "Oh, fuck, you're a good little cocksucker! You like that, don't you? You like my big cock in your hot little slut mouth!"

The woman whimpered, but kept sucking, pulling with her mouth. She seemed to be almost desperate to taste my juice. And after a few more minutes of her reluctant blow job, she did.