Mia's Side Hustle

Mobile beauty with a full body service.

Divorced MILF Mia only breaks her "no men" rule when a desperate, young bodybuilder begs for a last-minute wax & contest tan, offering quadruple rates. One look at Craig's 10-inch third leg and boundaries shatter.

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Mia's Side Hustle

Mia adjusted the rearview mirror of her car, catching a glimpse of her reflection. She had freshly highlighted hair and subtle makeup that just about screamedprofessional yet approachable.

At 37, post-divorce and juggling two kids, she'd turned her beauty course certification into a lucrative side hustle. Waxing, facials, the occasional lash lift - that sort of thing. Mostly for women, either in their homes or her makeshift studio in the garage. It paid for dance classes and the upcoming birthday bash for her daughter, who wanted a unicorn-themed cake that looked like it was going to cost a fortune.

Mia might have been on the glide-path to 40, but she still turned heads and she knew it. In fact, leaving her husband had given her a new lease of life. She'd embraced her looks and her body, ditching the old clothes for ones that made the most of what she had.

And it worked. She'd spent the last few weeks fucking a guy she'd met, 13 years younger, just because he was into her and she could. And she liked the sex, particularly the eye-watering girth of his cock. There were no strings, justfriends with benefits.

Her phone buzzed on the passenger seat, an unknown number calling. She answered on speaker, as she navigated the busy city traffic.

"Hello, Mia's Mobile Beauty - how can I glow you up today?"

"Uh, hi," came a deep, hesitant voice. "I'm Craig. My friend Sarah gave me your number? She said you're amazing at waxing and spray tans."

Sarah - yes, the chatty redhead she'd met at a party one of the kids had been invited to. Mia smiled.

"That's sweet of her. What are you looking for?"

"I'm in a spot and I hope you can help. Got a bodybuilding comp tomorrow - amateur nationals - and my usual girl bailed last minute. Need a full-body wax, chest to toes, and a competition spray tan. But I need it today. Please."

Mia frowned. Men weren't her thing. Too many awkward stories from other techs. "I'm sorry, Craig. I don't offer those services to guys. Boundaries, you know?"

He groaned, a sound a bit like a puppy getting stepped on. "Mia, I'm desperate. This is my big shot - but judges dock points for body hair, and the tan has to be even or I'll look like a patchwork quilt. Sarah swore you'd save my ass. I'll pay triple. Quadruple! Whatever your rate is."

Quadruple. Her mind flashed to the unicorn cake, the pile of bills, her ex's latest child support "oops, forgot." Her son needed new football boots too. Damn it. As a one off it was too good an opportunity to pass.

"I...okay. Against my better judgment. Text me your address. I'll be there in an hour."

"Yes!" He roared. "You're a lifesaver."

-oOo-

When she got there, Craig's apartment was in a sleek high-rise down by the waterfront, all glass and views. Mia knew these didn't come cheap.shit,she thought.I could have squeezed more..

Mia lugged her gear up in the elevator, her kit bags slung over both shoulders. She wore her usual uniform - black leggings that hugged her post-kids curves, a fitted tank top under an open flannel shirt, hair in a high ponytail. Practical, but she knew it flattered her full D-cups and the hourglass she'd reclaimed with yoga and seemingly endless hours oflegs, bums and tums.

She rang the bell and, when the door swung open, Mia's breath caught. Craig stood there in nothing but a white towel knotted low on his hips, droplets from a fresh shower clinging to his skin. He was younger than she expected, maybe 21, with a jawline that could cut glass and shoulders that strained against...well, nothing. His chest was a slab of pecs, abs etched like a washboard, veins snaking down biceps the size of her thighs.

Amateur bodybuilder?Fuck.This guy was a Greek statue come to life.

"Hey! Mia? Come in." He grinned, white teeth gleaming, stepping aside. His voice had a slightly youthful rumble, almost like he was still growing into it.

As she passed him she felt her cheeks heat. She couldn't help stealing a glance out of the corner of her eye. He was gorgeous,and that body...

-oOo-

He led her to the living room. It was minimalist in stylish way, with a massive TV and sleek furniture.

"Amazing place," Mia said as she unfolded the table with practiced efficiency, plugging in the warmer. The scent of honey wax filled the air. "Live alone?"

She had no idea why she'd asked the question, and instantly regretted it.

"Er, thanks," he said, collecting up empty cups and still in just his towel. "Yeah, just me I'm afraid."

She wondered how he afforded a place like this given his age.Tech wizz, or trust fund?

"Alright, Craig. Strip down, hop on face-up. Towel off. I'll avert my eyes if you--"

The towel hit the floor with a soft thump and she froze mid sentence.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Even soft, it hung between his thighs like a tree trunk - something out the mind of a twisted sculptor, its sheer size almost a caricature, impossible not to stare at.

She swallowed hard, throat dry as the desert.

Professionalism screamedlook at the warmer, look at the strips. Look anywhere but there. But her pulse screamed something else entirely.

She'd always rolled her eyes at the "size matters" crowd. Then, during the divorce, she'd met Dave and he'd split her open with his beer-can cock and rewritten the rules.

Now she was ready to admit the truth: big was very definitely better. Had she become a size queen? She wasn't sure...but if not she was well on the way. And this? This looked like a game changer.

"You good?" he said, lying back, arms behind his head, monster draped over one thigh.

"Face-up," she replied, trying desperately to regain composure.

Mia started on his chest, warm wax spreading smoothly over pecs that tensed under her every touch. He barely flinched when the strips were torn away. She continued down the abs, each ridge popping as she worked.

The conversation was light as they chatted about this and that - coffee shops in town, his training regime, how long she'd been doing this work, and about people they both sort of knew. But as they talked Mia caught his eyes drifting to her cleavage when she leaned over.

She was flattered. He was young - technically she was old enough to be his mum - and he was hot. Very hot. And then, of course, there was the other thing....

When she reached his pubic area she took a deep breath to steady herself. "This part's intimate," she warned, voice a little breathy. "Hold still."

She applied wax around the base, needing to lift his cock out of the way.

Her gloved hand wrapped around it -clinical, Mia, clinical- andfuck, the weight of it. It filled her palm even soft.

-oOo-

She shifted it gently aside, before ripping the strip as carefully as she could.

He exhaled sharply.

"Sorry," she muttered, trying hard to focus on anything other than his cock.

"All good. Feels...kinda nice, actually."

Nice?She glanced up. His eyes were on her tits again. And there it was - his cock starting to stir, thickening right in her hand. Inch by inch, it rose, veins bulging, head swelling to a glossy plum. Fully hard it was ridiculous - at least 10 inches long, probably a bit more. Not quite as thick as Dave's, but considerably longer and more impressive than anything she'd ever seen.

"Mia...I'm so sorry," he stammered. For a second she almost believed him. But then came a flicker at the corner of his mouth - a trace of amusement perhaps, or maybe something else entirely - and she realised he'd noticed her reaction. Even she could tell her eyes were wide like saucers.

"Seriously," he went on, "you're nothing like my usual lady. You're... different. Hard not to notice.Very sexy."

He let the words land and, as they did, Mia realised she was still holding his now rock hard cock in her hand.

She stared, mesmerized. "Craig, I--"

"Don't," he whispered. "Please. It's.... You're gorgeous."

It hung there - the plea, the tension, the danger of what would happen if she didn't pull away now. She told herself to be sensible, to remember the rules. But professionalism crumbled away like old wax. Her hand gave an experimental stroke - up the shaft, thumb circling the thick ridge.

He groaned and threw his head back against the massage table.

"God, yes," he mouthed.

-oOo-

Suddenly emboldened, Mia ripped the nitrile gloves off finger by finger, letting them drop to the floor.

Her bare palms met his red-hot skin. Craig's cock wasn't just massive, it was a masterpiece - the perfect mushroom head flared wide, the shaft veined like the rest of his ripped body, ridges pulsing under her touch.

But if it looked like something sculpted for a dirty museum, it felt even better: velvet-smooth skin over hard steel. She wrapped one hand around the base, stroking slowly, and it seemed to go on forever.

She stacked her second hand above the first, fingers barely meeting, and there was room for a third.Hell, maybe even a fourth if she gripped tight enough.

She with started slow, deliberate strokes from bottom to crown, watching the foreskin glide back to reveal the flushed, angry head.

A fat bead of precum welled in the slit. She caught it on her thumb, smearing it round the ridge until the whole crown was wet. She let go of his cock and it slapped heavily against his lower abs with a meaty thud.

"Fuck, Mia... don't tease."

He needn't have worried. Teasing was over.

She dipped her head, ponytail spilling over one shoulder like a waterfall, and ran the flat of her tongue across the tip. Then she sealed her lips around the crown, lips stretched thin, and sucked hard enough to hollow her cheeks.

It was a struggle to get the head in her mouth at first but then, inch by inch, she took him deeper. At six inches her throat rebelled in protest; at eight her gag reflex kicked hard, mascara streaking black tears.

She forced another inch, nose buried in the hollow above his cock, and swallowed. The contraction drew a raw moan from his chest. His hands fisted her hair, guiding her in shallow thrusts that nudged the back of her mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned in astonishment. "Never seen anyone take that much."

Mia looked up, eyes wide and watering, jaw looking as though it might dislocate. She pulled off him with a wet gasp, a thick strand of saliva snapping from her swollen lip to his tip, splattering her chin.

"That's some dick, Craig," she said huskily. "I need to feel that inside me.

Mia stood and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her leggings, peeling everything down in one motion. The fabric briefly caught on the swell of her arse before giving up, and her thong clung to her pussy for a heartbeat, the wet patch dark and clearly visible, before dropping to her ankles.

She climbed onto the table, her knees sinking into the padded vinyl on either side of his hips. She grabbed his cock, still wet with her spit, and dragged the fat head through her slit. First one swipe then another, rubbing him firmly against her clit.

Then she locked eyes with him and sank down, impaling herself in a single breath-stealing drop. The stretch was savage.

Her pussy flared open. She felt as though an electric current was being passed through her as every centimetre of him pleasured her. She felt the head nudge her cervix on the downstroke. She looked down: still more than an inch left.Jesus.

She rose slowly, pussy lips gripping him vice-like, flushed dark and clinging like they refused to let go. She rolled her hips in lazy figure eights whilst feeling the head stir her depths as the shaft grinded against her front wall.

Then faster and deeper.

Her ass slapped his thighs, obscene smacks echoing off the ceiling. She ripped her tank top up under her arms - heavy tits spilling free, nipples hard as bullets, and swinging wildly with every bounce.

Craig's hands clamped her arse, fingers digging in deep enough to bruise. He spread her wide - thumbs framing her swollen clit, proud and erect, pulsing like a heartbeat.

She planted both palms on his pecs for leverage and rode him harder, climbing up until only the head stretched her entrance, before slamming down until her clit smashed against his pelvic bone. Each impact forced a moan from her throat and a wet squelch from her pussy.

Her right hand snaked between them, two fingers framing her clit in a V. She rubbed side-to-side, hard and fast, the way she did when she was home alone. The pressure coiled low in her belly, a white-hot spring winding tighter and tighter, and then tighter still.

Finally, the coil snapped. Her back arched, tits thrust skyward. A hot gush of squirt sheeted down his shaft as she came, splattering his abs, and dripping off the table. Another pulse, another flood, until the vinyl beneath them was drenched.

Mia collapsed forward, forehead to his, tits crushed against his chest. She felt Craig's cock swell inside her, the tell-tale twitch in his shaft, and the way his balls drew up against her arse.

"Not yet," she hissed.

She ripped herself off him and her pussy gaped for a brief moment, her lips pink and glistening, a thick ring of cream coating the rim. A ribbon of arousal stretched from her hole to his cockhead, before breaking and falling against his abs.

Craig gave an involuntary curse, his hips desperately chasing her. Mia spun around, straddling his thighs so she faced his feet, and dropped to her knees.

Both hands wrapped around his shaft, one stacked above the other, as she pumped hard and fast, twisting on every upstroke.

"Cum for me," she said. "Right fucking here."

She aimed him at her swollen cunt, lips held open with two fingers of her left hand. The first rope shot out thick and scalding, splattering across her clit.

The second painted her open hole, bubbling at the entrance. Then came three, four, and five heavy pulses - each one arcing high, landing across her vagina, inner thighs, and lower stomach.

By the time he'd finally finished her entire mound was glazed, cum dripping in slow lava flows down her perineum, pooling beneath her on the table.

Mia kept stroking - slower now, coaxing the last drops. She scooped a thick dollop from her clit, brought it to her mouth, and sucked her fingers clean while staring at him over her shoulder. Then she rubbed the head of his cock through the mess, smearing it across her swollen lips.

Only then did she collapse forward, chest heaving, forehead pressed to his shins. His arms came around her automatically, pulling her up into a sweaty embrace.

"Some pre-comp prep that," he said, grinning.

Mia smirked, grabbing a wipe from her kit. "Still the tan to come next."

-oOo-

Mia gingerly climbed down from the table, her legs feeling like she'd just run a 10K in heels. She stood there a second, tits heaving, ponytail half-undone, mascara smudged.

Craig still lay sprawled on the massage table like a conquered god, cock draped across one thigh. Mia grabbed a wipe from her kit, and swiped between her legs. It came away thick with his cum, pearly and cooling.

She eyed her discarded clothes on the floor.What's the point?

He'd seen, taken, and then painted the lot. She stepped over her leggings, scooping up her bra from the floor and hooked it back on. Then she grabbed her panties, damp and discarded like they were part of a crime scene. She pulled them up anyway.

She didn't bother with the rest. It just felt like too much effort. She left them in a heap.

"Right," she said, voice businesslike, like she hadn't just squirted across his abs. "First make me a coffee, then let's get you tanned up."

Craig sat up slowly, and rubbed the back of his neck. "You sure you're okay to...after...you know--"

"After you rearranged my guts with that third leg of yours? Yeah, I'm grand."

She busied herself preparing her kit, while he went about making a drink at his fancy home barista setup.

She kicked the collapsible tent and it snapped open with a whump. Craig handed her a steaming mug, towering over her. He hadn't bothered with the towel. His cock - not quite fully soft but still imperious - swung heavily between his legs, veins like cables and the head gently banging against his thigh.

She pointed at the floor dots. "Feet there. Arms up."

He obeyed, lats flaring. Mia filled the gun and tested the trigger. A cool mist filled the air.

She inhaled steadily.

Professional, Mia. Professional.

"I'll try not to distract you again," Craig said with a grin that was undoubtedly full of mischief. "But I can't make any promises."

Mia rolled her eyes, but her pussy gave a traitorous clench.

Reset, woman. Reset.

She lifted the gun. The mist bloomed between them, and the tent walls seemed to close in.

-oOo-

She started at the back with one long, continuous pass from head to heels. The mist kissed the nape of his neck, rolling down the groove of his spine.

She angled lower - gun whispering as she painted his arse a perfect shade of walnut. Deliberately he flexed his glutes, raising them high and taut.

Mia moved round the front. She dropped to one knee, the gun angled up. The spray feathered across his abs, each ridge catching pigment.

She kept her eyes on the work, not the monster below.Professional, Mia. Professional,even if her pulse was already sprinting.

When she reached his groin she didn't flinch. She painted the base in one deliberate stripe, the colour bleeding into the crease where thigh met torso.

Then she focused on the shaft, before moving to the head.

Whether it was the coolness and gentleness of the mist on his most intimate area, or the way her breath ghosted across it, or simply the fact that she was there was impossible to say. Either way, his cock began to surge back to life.

Uncoiling first then faster - thickening and lengthening, rising like a bronzed crane fresh from the forge.

More than ten inches - Mia was absolutely sure of that now - of lacquered steel pointing straight at her face. Veins forked under the fresh tan, the fat dorsal ridge throbbing blue, skin pulled so thin it seemed almost transparent.

Mia didn't touch it, even though every fibre of her wanted to reach out and take it in her hand. To feel it again.

Instead she carried on painting his body. She moved around him, body almost brushing his, the air between them shimmering with heat and spray. Each breath, each turn of his shoulders, drew her in closer until she could feel the hum of the turbine through her ribs.

"Turn," she said, and he obeyed, the motion making her head spin.

The mist settled over him in perfect bronze layers - contours, shadows, light catching every ounce of muscle. She traced his outline with steady passes, the hiss of the gun the only sound between them.

He exhaled sharply, and something in the tent suddenly felt different. Too close and too aware.

When the machine finally clicked off, the silence was deafening. She stepped back, chest rising, hands trembling slightly.

-oOo-

Mia unzipped the tent. Cool air spilled in, chasing away the heat but not the charge that existed. Craig's skin gleamed under the apartment lights.

"Ten minutes," she said, slipping back into her professional tone. "Don't touch anything - the colour's still setting."

He nodded, hands behind his head, striking a pose that looked practiced and impossibly confident. Muscles flared and tightened, shadows moving over him like storm clouds - cock still at full mast.