After she graduated, she began to notice that this opinion wasn’t universally shared. Lots of supposedly enlightened men she knew seemed to like porn—or at least they liked joking about liking porn—but she was surprised to learn that a number of her women friends were fans, too. Her grad school colleague Allison reported that she and her fiancé had a standing Friday night porn date that they both looked forward to all week. (Allison also had a vibrator that she’d nicknamed Black Betty and half jokingly described as the best thing that had ever happened to her.)
Succumbing to peer pressure early in their marriage, Eve and Ted had rented a movie called Fuck My Secretary—this was back when every video rental store had an XXX section, usually hidden in a basement or tucked away in a separate room—but they only made it through a couple of minutes before throwing in the towel. The actors had seemed like freaks, the secretary endowed with gravity-defying breasts while the boss sported an erection the size of a prize zucchini. It did absolutely nothing for Eve or Ted, so they turned off the VCR and made love, cheerfully enough, with their own serviceable, human-sized equipment. Her XXX history had pretty much stopped there. She’d never surfed for porn on the internet, and hardly ever thought about it, except in an anxious parental capacity.
Which was why it was so disorienting to find herself returning, for the sixth day in a row, to milfateria.com (“World’s Biggest Buffet of All-You-Can-Eat Amateur MILF Porn!”), scrolling through the thumbnails of recently uploaded clips. Lovely Wife BJ, Anal MILF with Creampie, Abby Loves BBC, Sexy Samantha First Time on Camera, Saucy Soccer Mom Takes It Like a Champ. Saucy soccer mom. Eve smiled at the description and clicked on the link. That seemed worth a look.
*
It was the anonymous text that had led her here, the one that had arrived last Friday night. She’d forgotten all about it until Saturday morning, when she turned on her phone and saw that idiotic message staring back at her:
U r my MILF!
She wasn’t sure why it had bothered her so much. It was probably just a harmless prank, the handiwork of a drunk teenager getting his late-night kicks. Texts like this were the digital equivalent of obscene phone calls.
Send me a naked pic!!
All she had to do was delete it and get on with her day. But she kept squinting at those words, floating so innocently in their cartoon bubble, as if they had every right to inhabit her phone. Before she realized what she was doing, she’d typed a reply of her own.
I’m not a MILF, you little shit
Luckily, her good sense kicked in before she pressed Send. There was no point in engaging with an anonymous pervert, giving him the satisfaction of a response, a reward for his harassment.
*
MILF.
She knew what the acronym stood for, of course—she hadn’t been living under a rock—or at least thought she did. In her mind, it was just an updated name for the old Mrs. Robinson stereotype, the predatory middle-aged woman with a taste for younger men, maybe even boys who were Brendan’s age. That was the main thing that creeped her out, the possibility that the text had come from one of her son’s friends, or maybe even his new roommate.
I want to cum on those big floppy tits!!!
What kind of person would say something like that to a friend’s mother? And what if it was Wade or Tyler or Max, boys she’d known since they were in preschool, whom she’d taken to the beach, who’d slept over at her house? It made her queasy to imagine one of them thinking about her body in such prurient detail.
And they’re not that floppy, she thought indignantly. They’ve actually held up pretty well.
One thing that she’d learned from her web search that morning was that she’d been conflating the terms cougar and MILF, which turned out not to be synonymous at all. MILF was a broader, more passive category, basically just “any mother that is sexually desirable.” What that meant, Eve realized, was that you couldn’t really say, I’m not a MILF, because a MILF was in the eye of the beholder. The other thing she’d learned was that you shouldn’t google the term if you didn’t want to find yourself swimming in an ocean of porn.
There was no doubt about it—milfateria.com was part of that “unregulated cesspool” the assistant DA had warned about so many years ago at the PTA meeting. Eve was regularly shocked and frequently disgusted by what she found there. She disapproved of the site—she would have been horrified if she’d ever found anything like it on her son’s computer—and sincerely wished it didn’t exist. But she couldn’t stop looking at it.
A few of the allegedly “Amateur MILFs” were clearly porn stars, with huge fake boobs and full Brazilians, but the vast majority looked like ordinary people. They had stretch marks, C-section scars, pimples on their faces and butts, bruises and rashes, cellulite, underarm and pubic stubble. Some of them wore glasses while they had sex, and more than you might have expected kept their socks on. A lot of them seemed to live in drab houses or cramped apartments. While a few of the women seemed embarrassed by what they were doing, others looked straight into the camera, as if they were a lot more interested in whoever might be watching them than they were in their partners. And the men! They were (most of them, anyway) a parade of horrors—hairy and potbellied, wheezy and much too talkative for Eve’s taste. They loved to narrate their orgasms in real time—Here it comes, baby!—as if the whole world was waiting for an update.
*
In the past week, Eve had spent more time watching milfateria videos than she would have liked to admit, and she’d barely scratched the surface. The site was organized by category (Oral MILF, Anal MILF, Threesome MILF, Lesbo MILF, Ebony MILF, Solo MILF, etc.), body type (Busty MILF, Shaved MILF, Big Booty MILF, Redhead MILF), but also by nationality (Turkish MILF, German MILF, Canadian MILF, Japanese MILF, Israeli MILF, Iranian MILF, and on and on), a global community of women in their thirties, forties, fifties, and even older (Granny MILF), united by their willingness to have sex in front of a camera and to share the experience with the rest of the world (unless a man was sharing it without their permission, which probably happened a lot). The sheer number of videos was overwhelming; you could never watch them all, not that you’d want to. There were so many that it seemed like only a matter of time before Eve would find herself looking at someone she knew, a high school classmate, a neighbor, maybe her old friend Allison.
Her reaction was the same every time she started a session: Ugh! How could they do it? How could people expose themselves like this? Just the sight of all that naked flesh was overwhelming and off-putting. She cringed at the unimaginative dirty talk and the predictability of the action. She especially hated the clips that focused solely on the genitalia, the close-ups of penises and vaginas. So many assholes. She needed to see faces, to get a sense of the person she was watching. That was the only thing that mattered.