Healing A Broken Heart

I storm up to Koda's door, my heart shattered into a million fucking pieces after her son Frank—my so-called best friend—stole my girl right out from under me. The betrayal burns like acid in my veins, my jaw locked tight, muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. I pound on the door, not even sure why I'm here, but it swings open and there she is: Koda Monroe, this curvy goddess in a sheer silk dress that hugs every lush inch of her MILF body like a second skin, the dark fabric translucent enough to tease the shadow of her hard nipples and the sway of her full, heavy tits. Her stilettos click rhythmically as she struts toward me, that dress fluttering behind her like a seductive mist, pulling my eyes straight to the jiggle of her thick ass. She sees the raw pain in my eyes, that flicker of agony I can't hide, and instead of turning me away, her voice drips like honey—soft, inviting. "Come inside, Leo. You look like you need this." No bullshit, no judgment; she draws me into her warm house, her hand lingering on my arm, sending sparks straight to my cock despite the rage boiling inside me. We sink onto the couch, and it all spills out—Frank's backstabbing theft of my lover, the knife-twist of loyalty shredded. My voice cracks with fury, fists clenched. Koda's dark eyes soften with real sympathy, her brunette waves cascading as she rises and glides behind me. Her hands—soft yet firm—land on my shoulders, digging into the iron knots of tension, kneading deep with oiled fingers that melt the poison away. "Shhh, let me fix that broken heart," she purrs, her breath hot on my neck, her massive tits pressing into my back, nipples stiff and scraping through the silk. Her massage turns filthy fast, thumbs circling lower, tracing my pecs, then sliding down my abs as she whispers how she'll make me forget every goddamn betrayal. I groan, my dick throbbing hard against my jeans as her curves grind against me, that wet heat between her thighs promising to heal me with her tight, dripping pussy. Koda knows exactly how to soothe a wrecked soul—milking every drop of hurt from my balls until I'm pumping deep inside her, lost in her velvet grip.