Posts Tagged ‘older woman’

Maria woke early the next morning, she looked over to Harry still asleep, quiet and still. ‘It’s a long time since I woke up with a man in my bed,’ she thought with a smile; spontaneously she leant over and kissed him very gently, Harry did not stir and Maria thought again, “Look at him he’s so peaceful, no one would ever guess what he is like in bed.”



She got up showered in the second bathroom to avoid disturbing Harry and made herself a coffee. On returning, Harry was still fast asleep, so she took her coffee onto the small balcony which led from her bedroom. Maria sat down; her view looked out over her property towards the river and the centre of Hawksworth beyond. She felt totally relaxed in the relative cool of the early morning, and as she sipped her coffee, she fell back into her earlier daydreams.



What had he called her? “Priceless,” it was silly, she smiled to herself, but at the time it was perfect, and then Harry had made love to her; they had kissed, they had rolled around on the blanket next to the pool, then he had sucked her nipples. Rock hard nipples Maria remembered, touching herself for a moment as a reminder, she smiled, and then he had moved down inexorably, to eat her out again. In the cool of the morning it seemed in one sense like a blur to Maria, but the pleasure, the tormenting pleasure of his probing searching tongue went on and on looping through her mind, again and again to a relived climax.



What Harry had wanted had been a little unexpected: Maria bit her lip pensively as she remembered, Harry had turned her over onto her hands and knees and fucked her, it was no longer lovemaking, he had taken her, ‘he fucked me,’ reflected Maria. To call it rough sex was not enough, the sheer energy, the urgency with which he plunged into her without regard for anything electrified her, she gloried in it, and when his climax came he fell on her back biting hard into her shoulder as his semen flooded her womb. Maria remembered no pain or hurt only a surge of complete joy, a joy of giving herself completely.



“Day dreaming?” Harry had woken up and padded quietly over.



“Mmmm, you could call it that” she replied as he kissed the top of her head. Then Maria woke up properly, “You had better hop in the shower and get dressed if you are working today, time’s marching on, it must be almost eight already.”



“Yes you’re right, I had better get moving.”



“Be downstairs in ten minutes for some breakfast.”



Harry met the deadline with a minute to spare. “Porridge with fruit on the side and a huge mug of tea, what’s this about Maria, porridge oats in the morning and pasta in the evening, are you trying to build me up?”



“No,” she laughed “it’s carbohydrates for energy, oats, slow release in the morning, wheat pasta for quick energy in the evening, I’m optimising your performance, and looking after my own best interests at the same time.”



“I’m partial to my favourite sweetmeat myself” responded Harry, putting an arm around her playfully.



“Don’t I know it,” retorted Maria brushing him off, “And if last nights last performance is a guide, you prefer your sweetmeat to be steaming in a sticky marinade.”



“Maybe,” grinned Harry pausing between mouthfuls, “I was a bit carried away, I put it down to the pheromones, your body heat and yes, maybe it was the marinade, as you so decorously put it.”



“I’m not complaining, I’m just wondering what you’re going to come up with to top it.”



“Ah ha,” said Harry “Well I do have designs on…hello who’s this?”



A small truck had turned into the driveway, and as it straightened to proceed down the track to the old house, the sign on its side was clear, “Salt’s Engineering:” the Bruton brothers had bought the firm but retained the old name.



“That’ll be old George with one of Cory’s men bringing back the new tyres for the tractor, I’ll have to rush, I want them to give me a hand with those trunks.”



Harry grabbed a banana and made hastily for the door. “Hey wait a moment,” cried Maria “designs on what exactly?”



Harry hesitated for no more than a second and answered with a huge grin “But your ass of course…your wonderful magnificent ass.” And then he was gone.



Maria was left talking to herself for a moment. “Surely not, he can’t mean, no of course not, he couldn’t possibly…could he?”



Harry arrived just as George and his workmate had started to unload the first of the wheels. “Ah good,” George greeted him “we’ve got the hoist on the truck but an extra pair of hands would be handy manoeuvring these big wheels, especially,” he added “seeing as the only help I’ve got is this useless article.” The useless article old George referred to was a large affable young man about Harry’s age, he grinned “G’day I’m Pete, don’t mind George, the truth is the poor old sod’s a bit past it, so we could do with a bit of help.”



Old George and Pete continued to bicker and abuse each other, in a way that only the very best of mates can, while Harry observed that both of them were in fact, very competent and sure in their work. In what seemed to Harry a surprisingly short time they had the massive wheels unloaded and re-fitted.



“Now I s’pose,” observed old George accurately, “You’ve got something you want us to do for you.”



“Right,” confirmed Harry “I want Pete to give me a hand to carry a couple of steel trunks and a chest down from upstairs. The trunks in particular are too awkward and heavy for one person. If Pete could give me a hand to load them onto my ute I can then take them up to Maria’s house for her.”



“We can do better than that,” suggested Pete, “We’ll use our truck because we’ve got the hoist and it’ll be much easier to load and unload.”



The two young men made their way upstairs to the tune of George telling them to get on with it because he didn’t have all day.



“What’s the camera for?”



“Oh my aunt is interested in the history of this place and asked me to photograph everything before it was moved. I was going to get Maria to take them, but perhaps you could help. Harry quickly took a dozen pictures and asked Pete to take a few more with him in them as his aunt Diane had requested. They soon had more than enough



“What’s this?” asked Pete, noticing the chest in the back corner



“Only an old chest of drawers.”



“No… I don’t think so, look at these brass handles, two on each side, one above the other, and also the fancy brass work on the corners. The top half probably lifts off.”



“What is it then?”



“I’m not absolutely certain,” replied Pete, “But it might be a campaign chest.”



Harry was none the wiser for being told that, and was conscious of keeping old George waiting; “Come on, we had better get it all shifted.”



Harry and Pete soon had both trunks, and the chest on the truck and as Pete had guessed the chest separated into two equal parts quite readily. “Just as well” Harry exclaimed “it must be stacked full it weighs so much.”



“Pete you take the truck up to Mrs Bunce’s house,” instructed George, “Harry and I’ll follow you.”



“Now young Harry, I wondered why you took the tin work off the tractor when you cleaned up, was there a possum, or something like that nesting under it.



“Yes there had been, though what it was I don’t know, but it was a real mess.”



“Well thanks; it saved me a bit of time you thinkin’ of that.”



Conscious that any thanks from old George was hard earned, Harry changed the subject, “you were giving Pete a hard time back there, he’s not that bad surely?”



“Course he ain’t,” George cackled, “Young bugger’s the best bloody apprentice I’ve trained for years, but apprentices are all the same; cuss ‘em and kick em up the ass, whether they need it or not, that’s my method, keeps their mind on the job, otherwise all they think about is football and girls.”



“Well, I’m glad I’m not your apprentice.”



“Mighta done you good,” grinned the old man toothlessly, I’ve turned some unpromising lummoxes into pretty fair mechanics, so maybe there might be hope for you yet.”



They lurched to a halt, and George got out of the ute well pleased with himself for coming out ahead in the exchange.



Maria came out to greet them and directed Harry and Pete to her study where the trunks were to be stowed. That was soon done. “I think I’ll leave the chest out here in the conservatory then I can wash it down and decide what to do with it.”



“Oh no,” exclaimed Pete, “You mustn’t do that,” but then he turned bright red embarrassed at his outburst.



“Who are you to be telling Mrs Bunce what to do, you cheeky varmint,” protested old George.



Harry interrupted, “Hang on a moment, Pete was telling me something about this chest, and he probably has a good reason for what he was saying.”



“Well yes,” replied Pete collecting himself, “First Mrs Bunce, the chest appears to be full of something and it’s very heavy so it’s probably papers, second the timber has been in the dark for ninety odd years and though it’s not cracked it must be very dry, so if you washed it, some of the water is bound to get through to the contents and they would be damaged, and if the chest was left in the sun in a hot conservatory it would crack up in no time.”



“You have a good point about the possibility of damaging the papers,” agreed Maria, “But I’m not bothered about the chest of drawers itself, so it can just go in the conservatory.”



“But I think perhaps you should be bothered Mrs Bunce,” persisted Pete, “Because it’s not a chest of drawers, it’s a campaign chest, at least I think it is.”



“What’s a campaign chest, and why should this be one?”



“Well Mrs Bunce, campaign chests were very popular for officers in the British Army, in fact most armies a hundred and fifty years ago. They served as a piece of furniture that the officers could also use as trunks when they travelled, overseas or on campaign, that’s why they’ve got the handles on the side. If you look closely, the top two levels of drawers are split into three but the middle one is probably a false drawer, and when you unlock it my guess is that will fold out as a small writing desk. If it’s what I think, it will be worth restoring.”



“I’m impressed Pete, where did you learn all this.”



“My girlfriend Tracey, her uncle restores old furniture for a hobby, he even makes it from scratch, his house is full of it.



Old George interrupted, “So you’re goin’ out with Billy Thompson’s niece, and I thought young Tracey had a bit of sense, but you’re right about Billy, he’s a pretty good builder but he’s a much better joiner, does some really top class work.”



“Coming from you George, that’s a really big wrap,” observed Harry.



“Well I ain’t one to praise too much, but Billy’s a top tradesman, we had an expert up here from Sydney a few years back, and he swore some chairs Billy had made were genuine antiques. He was a bit flummoxed when Billy told ‘im they was only six months old, but then he said, ‘damnit if they fooled me they’ll fool anyone else,’ and he offered to buy anything Billy could make. Billy wouldn’t be in it though, said he didn’t want to make a business out of it.”



Once started, Maria knew that old George would take some stopping, so she brought the discussion to a halt, “That settles it then, Harry and Pete can you put it into the study with the other things and Pete” she added, “Thank you for you advice, and you too George; I will ask Mr Thompson what I should do with it.”



Their task was soon completed, Pete and old George left and as both Harry and Maria observed they were arguing again before the truck even turned onto the road. “Do you reckon those two ever stop squabbling,” grinned Harry.



“Not a chance,” laughed Maria, “If they did they would have to admit how much they liked each other, so it won’t happen. Now I suppose, you will be getting off to work too.”



“Yes I have a few things to do, but I’ll be back this afternoon, will I see you here then?”



“Only if you are a bit later than usual, I won’t be back until about seven thirty.”



“Ok I’ll see you then.”



As things turned out although Harry only had a couple of jobs planned, the phone started ringing almost as soon as he had left Maria’s, he was flat out all day and by mid afternoon had decided to give the old house a miss for the day. He finished his last job at seven in the evening just giving him time for a shower and a burger before arriving at Maria’s just before eight. Maria had arrived only seconds before and was removing what appeared to be the spoils of a major shopping expedition from her car.



“Can I give you a hand with that?”



“Thanks.”



“It looks as though you have bought up the entire shop.”



“No I haven’t” retorted Maria, “it’s nearly all clothes, I have to get a lot made to measure, mainly because of my height. I go to a little Italian tailor who makes suits for men; I suspect I’m his only female client.”



“That’d be Mr Iemma, but you’re not his only female client, his daughter has an internet based business selling wedding dresses and special event dresses for formals, proms and such like. She obtains the orders and deals with the business side, whilst he and a group of ladies actually make the clothes.”



“Is that right, he’s such a sweetie, a real gentleman but very shy, he always makes sure his daughter is there when I go for an appointment, she does most of the fitting and takes measurements and afterwards he likes to talk about what he is going to do and we sit down and have coffee with lovely Italian cakes that his wife makes. It’s all very civilized.”



“Crikey, I never got that treatment when he made me a suit.”



“Of course not, Mr Iemma may be shy but he’s a gentleman and an Italian, so he knows how to treat a lady… and,” added Maria, “He’s a superb tailor and dressmaker.”



“Well, I know I’m not a tailor or dressmaker and certainly not Italian but hopefully” he suggested, putting an arm around Maria, “Maybe I can be a gentleman.”



“Mmmm,’ not to sure about that,” replied Maria responding quickly “Think of yourself as a work in progress, I would have thought a real gentleman lover would have had me half undressed and on the way to bed by now.”



A little more than forty minutes later Maria was becoming rapidly convinced of Harry’s progress, as she bucked furiously out of control, in the throes of her second orgasm. “Oh God don’t ever let it stop” she cried as Harry burst inside her, a river of cum flooding, penetrating deep into her womb. She was silent for a few seconds just twitching and heaving slightly, involuntarily, as she came down.



“Oh my God,” she repeated, “Now I feel all warm and mushy, it’s like I’m in a dream and I don’t want to wake up.” Harry knew from experience that he wasn’t expected to say anything, he had got used to Maria taking a long time to come down from her climax. He knew instinctively that she just wanted him to hold her close, while she chattered about how she felt. “That was so good, just so good, now just hold me,” she said as though reading his thoughts. He did so and she mumbled an incoherent contentment, “Your cock in me, I so love it, and when you come, mmmm” she trailed off, “It’s so lovely.”



Then after some time Maria quite suddenly spoke up, she giggled, “You have got yourself a couple of new champions, at least one of them is new anyway.”



“What do you mean?”



“Well today before my visit to Mr Iemma I had a lunch date, half a dozen of us, women of a certain age I suppose, we try to get together every couple of months or so. Me, Susan Tremaine, Carol Johnson and her partner Lois, Frances Gear, the doctor and Bella Mason the High School Principal. Trixie the rector’s wife was invited but couldn’t come.



“Anyway Bella was telling us all, that she was taking you on a trip up to Armidale for a conference. She got Carol’s back up a bit, I think it was because Bella was talking about you as a representative of her school, in a way that implied credit to Bella rather than the people who actually taught you — like Carol of course.”



“Oh, Mrs Mason’s just an ambitious woman, there’s no harm in that.”



“Maybe not, but Carol was pretty quick to tell her that you weren’t someone who could be led by the nose.”



Harry laughed, but then Maria added, “Susan then jumped in and told Bella, that someone she knew very well had told her that you had a knack for working out exactly what a woman wanted and taking your own initiative. I suppose she was referring to Alice because I hadn’t told her anything like that.



“Now what are you laughing about,” said Maria turning over to face him, “It isn’t that funny.”



“No it isn’t,” replied Harry, “Except for the fact, that it’s the second time someone has alerted me to Mrs Mason.



“What do you mean?”



Harry told her what his aunt had said ,of which Maria promptly concluded, “So Carol and Susan were right, she is manipulating you.”



“No she’s not, organising me a bit perhaps, but that’s all, and you can hardly blame her for wanting to promote her own school.”



“I suppose not,” smiled Maria sweetly, “In any case with Carol, Susan and your aunt looking out for you you’ll be alright.”



“I don’t need anyone to look out for me, though Carol doesn’t surprise me, she’s pretty assertive herself, Susan, Mrs Tremaine though, it surprised me that she got involved.”



“Susan does surprise people, most of them just see a stunningly beautiful woman who is just too nice to be true, but she is also very smart and determined, neither of which are quite so obvious. She’s sometimes slow to make her mind up but once Susan has decided on something it’s very hard to stop her. Anyway, I guess that all we are saying is, do not let Bella manipulate you.”



“Oh I shan’t, there’s only one woman who is allowed to do that and she has been very neglectful of her duties these past few minutes.”



“Is that so, in that case I had better take you in hand.” Harry felt her long fingers wind themselves around his cock. “Mmmm you’re paying attention now; in fact you’re like a sentry standing to attention, stiff straight and ready for action.”



And action commenced.



The next few days were uneventful, Harry continued to be fully occupied, working all day and making love with Maria in the evening. Harry’s aunt emailed to say her research had gone particularly well and she was going to extend her stay in Sydney for a couple more days. Towards the end of the week Harry’s phone rang; “G’day mate ‘ow er yer goin,” it was the unmistakeable voice of Billy Thompson.



“Hi, what can I do for you?”



“Well Harry,” Billy explained, I checked this morning’ how many bricks you had ready and I was hopin’ you could get out another three full pallets by Friday arvo. Reason is,” he continued “Is that I’ve got two extra brickies who have agreed to work right through the weekend, it’ll let us catch up after that bad weather we had a couple of weeks back. That should be enough for ‘em to finish the job.”



Harry thought for a second or two “Yes I reckon I can do that, I’ll just put in a long session on Thursday.”



“Good lad, oh and by the way, Mrs Bunce dropped by my place. We had a yarn about renovating the old house, I’m gunna give her a quote, hope she goes ahead, because it would be a real interestin’ job.”



“Ok then Billy, if you don’t hear from me, you can assume the bricks will be ready for you.”



Thursday, however, dawned cloudy and threatening and it looked ever more ominous as time went on, the forecast said heavy rain, and thunderstorms for the afternoon and evening. It was hot and seemed even hotter when black clouds started to move in bringing oppressive humidity with them.



“Looks as though I am going to get wet,” said Harry to himself “But can’t be helped, I promised Billy I would get the job done.” Harry threw several towels and another change of clothing into his ute as he set out. When he got to Maria’s he decided not to take his ute down to the old House. ‘Might be difficult to get back up the steep slope if it rains hard’.

2: The Next Day



NOTE: A special thanks goes to estragon for his copy edit. His time and suggestions are invaluable.







RECAP: I highly suggest you read part one if you want to know how I seduced my sweet prim and proper Mother. If you don’t want to or already have and can’t remember the plot, here is a brief recap:



I am a college student who is addicted to MILF’s. When I came home for the summer, I spied my Mother fucking some slob who was blackmailing her and decided to save her. After saving her, I decided I had to make Mommy mine.



This story takes place the following day, after I had fucked my Mother, Elaine, for the first time.



***



MAKING MOMMY MINE 2: THE NEXT DAY



I woke up after a long sleep alone. I lay in bed for a few minutes as I replayed last night’s events in my head. I had fucked my Mother. It was amazing, the ultimate conquest for any man. As I rubbed my eyes, I remembered falling asleep together and noticed she was no longer in bed.



I looked at the clock it was 12:30 in the afternoon. I wondered how she would react the day after. I assumed she would say it was a big mistake and s forth, but I was determined to make sure this new relationship continued in full force. I got up, still naked, walked to my room, grabbed a robe and went downstairs.



When I reached the kitchen, I was surprised to see my Mom at the kitchen table visiting with Hannah. Hannah, Mom’s best friend, and the sexy MILF who I was fucking in the ass just two days ago, in the livingroom when my Mom walked in catching us. I was slightly worried I had ended a lifelong friendship. Apparently, I needed not to worry. My Mom greeted, “Good afternoon sweetie.” She got up and gave me a peck on the cheek.



I looked slightly confused as she explained, “I invited Hannah over to apologize. I overreacted and did not want to lose one of my dearest friends.”



Hannah, who I instantly noticed was wearing black stockings and a sundress, said, “Yes, we have kissed and made up.”



The innuendo didn’t go unnoticed as my Mom added, “I need to go to the washroom, you guys can visit or whatever.”



She left and I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down still trying to figure out what the Hell was going on. Hannah stated matter-of-factly, “So you fucked your mother last night?”



Coffee sprayed out of my mouth and I began choking. Hannah got up and patted me on the back like I was a baby. I asked in a state of shock, “Mom told you about last night?”



Hannah began to massage my shoulders as she said softly, “Do you know how long I have wanted to fuck your Mom?”



Her hands slid down my chest as I processed this stunning revelation; my cock already as hard as a rock. She moved around and dropped to her knees in front of me. I sat memorized a mixture of eager anticipation and slight bewilderment. As she opened my robe, she saw my bulging erection contained in my underwear and teased, “My, my, my, what do we have here?” She unleashed my stiff erection and it instantly stood at attention in front of this beautiful MILF, and my mother’s best friend. As she grabbed it with her left hand, she asked mischievously, “Is this erection because of me on my knees ready to swallow you whole or because of the thought of your prim and proper Mommy between my legs?”



I looked at her and before I could respond she deep throated my firm cock. I instantly let out a moan as this hot MILF slut devoured my dick. She continued the fast paced assault with impressive consistency and within only a couple minutes I could feel my cum beginning to bubble. I grunted, “I’m coming, slut.” Hannah continued bobbing up and down seemingly desperate to swallow my load, which followed. Like a good MILF cocksucker, she kept up the pace making sure to swallow every last drop of my cum.



Once done, she got off her knees, smiled at and said, “So can I use your Mother as my little lez slut?”



I answered, surprised by the question, “I doubt she would be into that.”



Hannah smiled, ” Oh, I don’ t know about that. She just fucked her son.”



“Touché,” I responded, trying to figure out a way to make this hot, but unrealistic, request to happen.



“So do you want to watch your Mom become my little duke?” my sexy MILF slut purred naughtily.



My cock already beginning to rise again, I supported, honestly and curiously, “I would love to see that.”



Hannah stood up, “Well then watch this. Your Mother is as submissive as they come and trust me she won’t say no.” She kissed me hard, shoving her tongue in my mouth. As she stroked my cock again, she broke the kissed and called, “Elaine get down here.”



A few seconds later, my Mother came downstairs and returned to the kitchen. “Did you two have time to talk?”



Hannah shrugged, her words dripping with innuendo, “Not really, but I did get a mouthful.”



My Mom blushed but said nothing.



Hannah grabbed my Mom’s hand gently, “You really hurt me the other day.”



My Mom quickly replied apologetically, “I know, I told you I was sorry. I would never do anything to hurt you.”



Hannah, in a firm and dominant voice I had never heard from her, explained, “You need to be punished for what you did.”



“What?” my Mom said clearly confused and unaware where this was leading.



“Come with me,” Hannah instructed, pulling my Mother into the living room.



Mom blindly followed still completely oblivious to what was about to transpire.



Hannah sat on the couch, pulled up her dress, opened her legs and ordered, “Elaine, starting right now our relationship is going to change. I have wanted to fuck you for years but thought you were way to prim and proper for such sexual deviance. But now that I know you are willing to fuck your son like a whore, well you obviously aren’t as goody-goody as you portray yourself to be.”



“Hannah,” my Mother began to say, I assume with some sort of defensive explanation, before being cut off by her best friend.



“Shut up, slut!” Hannah roared. “Don’t you ever interrupt your Mistress again!”



“Mistress?” my Mom repeated, in stunned confusion.



“Yes, Mistress!” Hannah confirmed, her voice losing the anger, but not the dominant, don’t fuck with me attitude. She continued, me watching in fascinated awe, my cock already fully at mass, “I own you. You will do what I say, when I say, with who I say. Is that understood?”



My Mother, tears running down her cheeks, tried to be logical with her best friend. “Hannah, be reasonable. I am not a lesbian.”



“Yesterday you weren’t a son-fucker either,” Hannah replied obscenely.



“Hannah!” my Mom said mortified.



“Son-fucker!” Hannah sarcastically mocked.



My Mom began to turn around to leave when Hannah said, “Stop right there, my slut.”



To my surprise my Mother stopped and with pleading eyes and tone, begged, “Hannah, please stop. You are my best friend.”



“Yes Elaine, you are my best friend too. And now we will be even better friends, friends with benefits. Plus you will also be my little lez slave,” Hannah explained. Hannah stared at my Mom, as after years of equality between the two, the balance of power shifted right in front of my eyes.



I watched amused as I began to believe my Mom would break, just as Hannah predicted, just as she had with me the night before. It was obvious that deep down my Mother was submissive and it was unlikely she would stand-up to Hannah when Hannah gave the sexual order that was soon to come. The staring match and the long silence that came with it were finally broken when Hannah went for the sexual kill. “Elaine, crawl between my legs and beg to lick your new Mistress’s pussy.”



Mom looked at me, seemingly begging for support; instead she got the opposite. I added to the humiliation as I agreed, “Mom you allowed some fat fuck to dominate you forever and you gave only a lame-ass resistance to submitting to me. I think Hannah is right. You are a submissive little,” I paused, unsure if I could call my Mom such a demeaning and derogatory word. Finally after a bit of thought, I went for the juggler, “slut.”



I could see my Mom’s facial expression change from pleading to shock at my harsh words. She looked away from me and back to Hannah. She seemed to really be considering her options. I would have loved to be able to get inside her head and see what she was thinking and feeling.



Hannah, clearly confident she was going to win, explained, “Elaine don’t pretend you don’t want to submit. You know you do. I know you do. Even Jeremy knows you do.”



Tears dripped down my Mom’s cheeks as she whispered, her tone portraying her defeat, “Please, Hannah….”



Hannah showing no signs of mercy ordered, “Hurry up Elaine, I don’t have all day. Plus I really want to see Jeremy fuck his Mother.”



My Mom quickly looked back at me. I gave her a knowing smirk and a subtle head nod, which suggested she should do as she was told. She just as quickly looked away and much to my, and Hannah’s glee, fell to her knees and head down, avoiding eye contact, crawled to her best friend. Once between Hannah’s legs, she froze unsure what to do next. It was entertaining to watch my Mother in such forbidden and uncharted territory.



Hannah looked at me triumphantly first before looking down at my Mother. She asked absurdly politely, “Do you want to eat my pussy, Elaine?”



My mother did not look up and said something so quietly I could not make it out.



Hannah ordered, “I can’t hear you, my slut. Speak louder.”



In a slightly louder squeak, through tears of humiliation, she answered, “Yes.”



“Yes what,” Hannah tested.



My Mother looked up for the first time, a look of utter confusion displayed on her face. She sputtered in a question like tone, “Um, yes please?”



Hannah looked at me and said dismissively, “Jeremy, your Mother seems a little slow on the uptake. Care to help her out?”



I walked over and sat down on the couch beside Hannah and very close to my obedient Mother as I explained, “The correct answer Mommy Dearest is yes, Mistress.”



My Mom glanced at me with a look that showed a mixture of fear, embarrassment, shyness and lust before finally returning her gaze to Hannah and repeated my words, “Yes, Mistress.”



Hannah playing the game extremely well teased her soon to be sub. “Yes, Mistress, what?”



I could tell my Mom’s anger was burning inside her as she had always hated to be corrected even in the slightest. But although I knew she was furious, her words that came out of her mouth were gentle and submissive. “Yes, Mistress, can I please you?”



“And how do you suggest to do that?” Hannah asked, pushing every button my Mother possibly had.



My Mom’s cheeks went dark red as she said, surprising me even, and clearly frustrated by the game her best friend was playing, “Any fucking thing you want.”



Not even remotely surprised by my Mom’s declaration, Hannah approved, “That’s much better, Elaine. I think you are going to make a very good sub.”



Hannah attempting to control and humiliate my Mom even more, lifted up her right foot and moved it to her best friend’s mouth. She ordered, “Suck my toes through my stockings, Elaine.”



I watched as my Mother obeyed the order and began taking her friend’s toes into her mouth. My cock was eager to get involved, but I resisted as I watched the submission of my Mother. Like last night, once my Mother submitted and allowed herself to have the sexual joy she desperately wanted and needed, she really got into the submission. She seemed to saviour each toe individually, treating each one like a tiny cock. The scene was incredibly hot and lasted over five minutes as my Mom individually pleased all ten toes.



Once done, Hannah now flushed and horny asked, “Have you ever eaten pussy before?”



My Mom shook her head no.



Hannah smiled, “Well this really is a weekend of firsts then.” After a slight pause to let that verbal shot simmer, she asked, “Do you want to eat my pussy, Elaine.”



My mom was clearly mortified by the humiliation, but I could tell from yesterday also horny, as she responded, almost in a whisper, “Yes.” Just as Hannah opened her mouth to correct her, Mom corrected herself, “Yes, Mistress, I want to eat your pussy.”



“Good girl,” Hannah purred, reached forward, and pulled my Mother into further sin.



I watched in voyeuristic fascination. Even after seducing her last night, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this.



I pulled my cock out and Hannah reached for it and began to give me a gentle hand job. She also began to moan from my Mother’s tongue. Hannah then began to get animated. “That’s it Elaine, you are a natural little cunt- licker,” and “Keep licking slut,” and “Faster lez, faster.” After a few minutes of this naughty scene, Hannah asked, “Slut, are you horny?”



My Mom, face shiny, looked up and saw Hannah still stroking my cock. “Yes, Mistress, I am really fucking horny.”



Hannah asked, “So you want to get fucked?”



“Yes, Mistress, desperately.”



“By your son?”



“Yes, Mistress. I want my son to fuck me.”



“You understand that I own you for now on?”



“Yes, Mistress,” my Mother reluctantly accepted.



“Jeremy, do you want to fuck your Mommy while she eats my pussy?”



“What do you think?” I asked.



Hannah instructed, “Get naked, slut.”



My Mom, horny enough that her inhibitions were gone, stood up and unbuckled her belt and pulled off her jeans. She hastily tossed off her t-shirt, bra and underwear and stood before Hannah and me naked.



“Get on all fours, my slave,” Hannah ordered.



My Mother obeyed like a good slut and without further instructions began licking Hannah’s pussy again. When I didn’t immediately fuck my Mom, Hannah suggested, “Jeremy, your Mommy desperately needa a good hard fucking. Now get behind her and fuck our slut.”



I stood up; my nine iron ready for t-off. I got behind my Mom, slapped her ass and asked, “Mommy, ready to be fucked by your son again?”



I expected at least a little resistance or reluctance, but instead got full compliance. “Yes, Jeremy, fuck your Mommy. Fuck her hard.”



Not one to disobey, I slid my cock easily into my Mom’s wet, but still tight, pussy. She instantly moaned and began to say something, but her words were muffled by Hannah’s pussy, Hannah having pulled her best friend deep between her legs. Hannah smiled at me as she rubbed her pussy all over my Mom’s face. I pounded my Mom hard and deep, pushing my Mother’s face deeper into my other MILF slut’s cunt. I never slowed down as I drilled into my Mother’s cunt hard and fast. My Mother quit licking her best friend and bellowed, “Oh fuck, Jeremy, I’m coming, harder Jeremy, make Mommy come, make her come, yes, yes, yes….”



The scene was so erotically sinful, so morally disgusting, that I knew I would not last long. Hannah pulled my Mother back into her cunt and Mom began to lick feverously as I continued fucking my Mother like the whore she was. Within a couple more minutes of hardcore licking by my Mother I heard Hannah scream, “I’m coming.” My Mom squeezed my dick with her cunt muscles in a way no woman ever has smiling my cock so smoothly that I exploded my cum in her a few seconds after Hannah came on my Mom’s face. I kept pumping until every last drop filled her before pulling out.



My Mom, finally got up off her knees and apparently having come to her senses after her orgasm, apologized profusely, “I’m sorry, Jeremy. This shouldn’t have happened.”



Hannah laughed and said, “Oh Elaine, this is just the beginning. Go and get Jeremy hard again. I am not leaving here until I get his cock in me.”



My Mom looked like she was about to say something but instead fell back to her knees and took my slightly limp cock in my mouth. Unlike most cocksuckers, she took her time. Using her tongue with teasing expertise, she had me stiff in a couple of minutes.



Hannah broke the incestuous debauchery as she ordered, “Elaine get on the ground and on your back.”



My Mother took my cock out of her mouth gave me a look I could not even begin to read. Was she mad? Sorry? Horny? As I attempted to read her thoughts, she let go off my hard cock and obeyed the instructions.



Hannah got out of the rest of her clothes and straddled my Mother’s face. I watched my Mom awkwardly eat her best friend’s pussy for a couple of minutes until Hannah stood back up and returned to the couch. She spread her legs wide and said, “Jeremy, come fuck me.”



Not one to ever refuse pussy, I walked over my Mother and between the legs of the sexy MILF. Ignoring any sort of foreplay, I thrust my cock into her. Having already come twice, I knew this would be a lengthy fuck session. I started slow, but soon picked up my rhythm as Hannah begged to be fucked harder.



After a few minutes of hard fucking, Hannah ordered, “Slut, get over here and lick my clit as your son fucks me.”



My Mom who had still been on the ground the whole time, seemingly watching, crawled up on the couch and began licking Hannah’s clit as I continued fucking the sexy MILF. Having my Mother’s face so close and doing such naughty things had my mind spinning and I decided to take control. I pulled out of Hannah’s warm cunt and shoved my cock into my Mom’s mouth. I fucked her face for a few strokes before burying my cock back into Hannah. I repeated fucking Hannah and then my Mother’s face for the next few minutes, keeping both myself and Hannah on the brink of complete sexual bliss, but never over it.



I no longer saw my Mother as a Mother, but rather as just one more hot MILF to please me. With such a philosophy in my head, a naughty thought popped in my mind, one final way to humiliate and dominate my Mom. I pulled my cock out and face fucked my Mom for a good minute, holding her head as I pumped in and out. I pulled out and ordered, “Mommy, lick Hannah’s asshole for me, get it ready for my big cock.”



My Mom looked at me with a look of disgust. I sternly explained, “Mommy, Hannah thinks she owns you now and she is welcome to use you as she sees fit. But when I am home, I am the man of the house for you, Hannah and every other slut I decide to bring home. Is that understood?”



My Mom, tears welling in her eyes, whispered, “Jeremy, I…”



“Do you ever want this cock again?” I asked, slapping her face with my stiff dick.



“Yes,” she whispered, clearly humiliated by her wanton desires.



“Good, then don’t ever hesitate when I give you an order, understood?”



“Yes,” she repeated.



“Now, pull Hannah’s ass cheeks apart and lick it.”



My Mom reluctantly obeyed as she repositioned herself between her best friend. Hannah looked back making eye contact with me. Her smile said it all. My Mother awkwardly licked Hannah’s ass cheeks for a couple of minutes while I stood back and enjoyed the show. Deciding it was time to make it more extreme, I went behind my Mom and without any warning, slid my cock into her wet pussy. I grabbed her hips and began to thrust as deep as I could into her, shoving her face deeper into her best friend’s ass. Her whimpers of pleasure were muffled by Hannah’s ass cheeks. The scene was fucking hot and I had to slow down to not shoot another wad up my Mom’s cunt.



I pulled out of my Mom who whimpered, “No, Jeremy, put it back in.”



I slapped her ass hard and said, “I am the one who gives the orders around here. Move your ass, I am going to fuck Hannah’s ass now. While I do, you may sit on the floor like a good girl and watch.”



My Mom obeyed, clearly horny, humiliated and disappointed. I went behind Hannah and rubbed my cock up and down her ass crack. Hannah, used to my cock in her tight ass, pushed back trying to get my cock in her. I continued teasing her until she begged, “Fuck Jeremy, please just fuck my ass.”



“You can do better than that, my slut.”



Hannah, clearly horny, quickly got on her knees and gobbled my cock. She bobbed on my cock with such desperate desire I had to stop her before I came too early. She got back on the couch and begged, “Now fuck my ass. Hammer me with that big hard cock. Show your Mommy who your first love really was.”

Michael was the type of guy you could see at any college, in any class, no matter where you were in the country. Average height, toned, and the type of guy who could go out to a bar and get laid whenever he felt up to the task. However, Michael never enjoyed the typical activities that most of his friends did when it came to girls their age. He was the type of college guy who fantasized about older women. While that isn’t completely out of the ordinary, Michael’s goal before he left college was to have sex with a woman at least ten years older than him, giving himself bonus points if it was a professor.



What set Michael apart from his friends that had similar fantasies was that he actually went out and pursued them by doing some harmless shadowing of the places that the professors and assistants would go out to enjoy drinks together, learning that many of them were just like his friends and him, except older. He certainly found some of his female professors to be attractive, but none of them could hold a candle to the one woman he found to be the most attractive of them all.



His aunt, Christie.



Christie Turner was his aunt, though the world only called her by her first name. A few years prior to him going to college, his aunt was discovered by a talent agency based out of London, England, and suggested that she meet with them for the possibility of doing a photo shoot. At the time, Christie was already 27 years old, the younger sister of Michael’s mother. However, she was a knockout, and she knew it. Michael’s mother had always been jealous of Christie, knowing that she had gotten the bigger end of the stick when it came to looks, though Christie worked hard on it. She was a true platinum blonde as well, which was a part of the allure for the talent agency to recruit her. Before she knew it, she was being flown across the ocean to meet up with the agents that knew she would be a star. What they didn’t expect, however, was just how quickly she would rise to fame…and how popular she would become.



Michael’s aunt was now 33 years old, and she was just as incredible of a knockout as she was when she first started. She held off for a few years before showing off the goods in an exclusive spread for the UK’s top adult magazine, though she limited it to just a topless spread. Since then, she would climb to the top of web searches around the world. Everyone wanted to find pictures, search for gossip on her, and go to her exclusive site where she would chat with anyone and give little shows here and there. The offers never stop coming in for her to do a hardcore shoot, though while never fully shooting the idea down, it never interested her to begin with. She enjoyed her private life far too much, though she had never settled down due to her desire to want just a normal man and not a celebrity, usually leading her to many lonely nights in her penthouse suite.



Christie, however, also had a bit of a problem in the fact that she never kept up with family, though her only direct relative alive was Michael’s mother, and they never talked. Christie had been driven away from her due to jealousy, which meant that Michael never got to see Christie at all, though she would write letters to him when she was doing photo shoots. She didn’t really miss her sister, as she would discover in the passing months. It was the fact that she never got to see her nephew growing up through his teenage years. She knew full well that he always liked her when he was younger, so she made it a point to clear her schedule around Christmas time and sent him a first class ticket to come and visit her.



Michael’s reaction was nothing short of pure joy when he received that envelope and letter containing the ticket from his famous aunt. He had managed to hide it from his friends that he was related to her, knowing it would be strange since two of his roommates had full sized posters of her on their walls. He had made no plans to go back home to see his mother at all, considering that she had cut him off from all support since he had changed his major from Business Management to his original choice, Photography. She never agreed with his passion for such a thing, which stemmed from her jealousy of Christie. Michael, while he was hurting for money, had never once considered asking his Aunt for money. With the receiving of the ticket, he was just happy that he was going to get to see his Aunt for the first time since he was 14. Back then, he was a scrawny kid who hated his existence. Now, at the age of 20, he was a well toned, muscular, handsome young man.



The plane landed at New York’s JFK International Airport just before midnight local time. Michael was sleep deprived, having had to deal with an unexpected layover in Dallas on his way out to see Christie. Going to school in a smaller city meant having to take a regional jet to a larger airport before getting on the direct flight that he needed. Even with the layover, the flight was enjoyable being in first class. It was the first time he had ever enjoyed the front section of the plane, having a couple of drinks and enjoying what was probably the best airplane food he had ever eaten. Eventually, he found himself at the baggage claim, trying to find the ragged tote bag that he used for his clothes. Being a poor college kid was horrible, he always thought to himself. He wanted the finer things in life. He wanted to know what it was like to drive sportscars, have the nicest clothes in the room, and have access to the finest things he could enjoy. At least with this trip, he was getting a little taste of it. Christie had told him that a limo would be waiting for him in her last email to him, and she didn’t disappoint him. A full stretch limo was outside with the name “Michael – from Christie” on a sign being held by an older gentleman. All it took was a mention of his name and his bag was in the trunk. The inside of the limo was incredible, though he would not have much of a chance to enjoy it as the ride from the airport to her penthouse was just ten minutes away, even with the late night traffic in the city that never sleeps. Once he was out of the limo, he looked up at the towering building that he stood under. The driver told him that his aunt lived on the very top floor and that she was expecting him.



“I had better not disappoint her by keeping her any longer. Thank you for the ride from the airport, sir.” Michael spoke with a tone that most people in New York probably had long forgotten, the driver thought to himself as he pulled away.



Michael walked inside the entrance to the front desk. He found it a bit strange that he needed to show identification just to get access to a room in the luxury building, but the main reason was that he needed a keycard for the specific elevator he had to use. Christie’s penthouse was so exclusive that her elevator was her front door, one of which went straight to the top and opened up directly into her gigantic penthouse. With his bag in one hand and the keycard in the other, he walked down the private hallway to the elevator that had the sign above it labeled “Invited guests or staff only”, swiping the card and watching the doors fly open quickly. The ride up the forty floors wasn’t a very long one, although his mind was not sure as to how he would react upon seeing his now famous aunt, the same aunt whom he secretly masturbated to with her first topless photo shoot.



“Michael!”



The sound of the voice was surprisingly familiar the moment he had stepped out of the elevator into the ridiculously furnished and decorated penthouse. His aunt came running across from the far windows, practically tackling him with a hug. Michael’s perverted mind was watching her run, but mainly watching her large breasts bounce in her choice of attire, which was very casual, to say the least. Christie hadn’t expected him so late and had gone for a run on her treadmill while waiting for him. She was wearing a dark green sports bra and black spandex shorts that hugged her ass tightly. Christie was a few inches shorter than Michael, still sporting the short, platinum blonde haircut that had made her famous, not dropping far below her jawline. Her toned body had a very light tan to it, just enough to give a sensual complexion. Her 36DD breasts, the assets that truly got her famous, were being held back by that sports bra, though it seemed to be struggling. She pulled away from him to check out her nephew, who had grown into a very handsome and attractive young man.



“My god, Michael. You’ve grown up so much! I had never expected to see you like this after the last time I saw you in person. You were so…scrawny!”



Michael laughed as he put his bag down, trying desperately not to look at his aunt’s gorgeous body and act as though he was interested in anything else. Of course, having the penthouse to admire certainly took his mind off of his aunt’s body, though he was also being pulled back to her since she was giving him so much praise.



“Thanks, Aunt Christie…yeah, I kind of sprouted when I hit Junior year in high school. You really haven’t changed much, though, from what I remember.”



He was lying through his teeth on that comment, knowing full well that she had only gotten sexier with age. Her body was that of a goddess, thinking back to the several private sessions he had in her chat room, asking her to do various things to help him get off. She had no clue it was him, as it was his dirty little secret.



“Aww you’re so sweet, Michael! Here, let’s get your things into one of the guest rooms!”



Before he could even object, his aunt was carrying his bag down the long hallway, taking a left turn down another hall. How big could the place be? His own thoughts were swirling in his mind as he followed her, his eyes virtually being drawn like a magnet to her shapely ass, which was bouncing as she walked fast down the hallway, taking a turn into one of the spacious guest rooms. The room was incredible, with a gigantic king sized bed, enough closet space that a small person could live in the walk-in alone, and a private bathroom that was calling his name for a shower.



“Wow…Aunt Christie, I knew you had money….but I never thought it would come close to this.”



Christie laughed and gave a playful slap on her nephew’s ass, actually finding herself pausing just a bit, realizing that he was quite toned in that spot, now curious as to what the rest of him was like. Christie, amazingly enough, had been going through a dry spell of viable sexual partners. It was tough for her to go out into public without being mobbed by fans. The problem, though, was that her fanbase was filled mainly with guys that she would never consider sleeping with. She always praised and adored her fans for being so loyal to her, but when it came to sex, there had to be attraction. Suddenly, the nephew she hadn’t seen in over six years was looking pretty good, though she tried to erase the thought from her head as soon as it entered it.



“Well, Michael, when you do the work that I do for a living, people tend to pay big money to see the goods, especially when you’re as popular as I am online. You know this, right?”



Michael nodded, looking into the bathroom before glancing back at her.



“Yeah, I know how famous you are. Two of my roommates each have a poster of you that is over six feet tall. One of your ‘special’ photo shoots for your life sized posters.”



Christie knew she was popular amongst the college guys, considering that most of her clientele on her website were guys aged 20-25. However, not a single one of them who sent in pictures were even moderately attractive, so it was good to hear that his friends at least adored her.



“And what about you? Anything like that of your dear aunt, Michael?”



She was obviously teasing him, giving a playful poke at his side before slowly turning around to head out of the guest room. Michael would follow close behind her.



“I was thinking about grabbing a shower since I’ve flown halfway across the country and probably need to freshen up.”



Christie nodded to her nephew, glancing back at him.



“Don’t keep me waiting too long, nephew. We have some catching up to do!”



Her words rolled off of her tongue so seductively, even if she wasn’t trying. He figured it would be best to get the shower out of the way, preferably a cold shower to get these thoughts out of his head, though he was starting to believe that was impossible after seeing her in that attire.



His shower was relatively quick, making sure to hit all of the major areas on his body, scrubbing himself to rid his body of the odors and filth of airports. He kept himself in great shape, his six pack abs weren’t ridiculously ripped but enough to know that he kept a strong workout ethic. Of course, most girls were interested in what was underneath his clothing besides his shirt, though only a few had ever seen his member, let alone enjoyed it further than that. He was quite hung, though in high school, the three girls that he had hooked up with before graduating would not do anything more than just handjobs and missionary positions. One attempted a blow job with him, but couldn’t handle more than half of it before gagging. Now a college guy, he had found girls were more experienced, but still lacking in certain areas of expertise when it came to sex.



Yet, here he was, in the shower of his aunt’s penthouse, wondering what it would be like to fuck his supermodel aunt. His eyes closed as he pictured himself sucking on those large, firm tits of hers while she rode him hard, crying out in pleasure while his hands slapped her firm, round ass. His cock was getting hard at the very thought of it, now making it obvious he either had to turn the water to ice cold, get himself off in the shower….or do something that he could possibly regret by making a move on his aunt.



Christie, meanwhile, was actually wondering if she could do the same thing. It had been over a month since the topless model had enjoyed the pleasure of a man, and even that was nothing to brag about, having settled on a guy that was willing to pay for drinks, bringing him back to her penthouse to let him have his way. She had hoped he would back up his big talk but, alas, he did not last very long with her. Still, could she break this small cold streak with her own nephew? She was trying to justify it in her mind, thinking that she wouldn’t have even known it was him unless he brought it up. She cursed his mother…her sister…for splitting them up several years ago. It was not fair for her to keep her out of his life. Perhaps…she was seeing this as an opportunity to get back at her sister? Could she justify having sex with her nephew as a means of revenge? Perhaps she could…especially if her nephew was as attractive as he was, not to mention if he was packing some heat in his pants.



Michael stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, walking into the bedroom that was his for the duration of his visit to find some clean clothes. Deciding to keep it casual like his aunt had chosen to do, he opted for a simple black tank top and shorts with boxers. Stepping out of the bedroom and making his way down the hallway, the mussy haired college guy saw his aunt sitting in one of the love seats, laying across it, her body shown off so incredibly well that he was now wishing he had opted to pleasure himself in the shower instead of just dealing with it. Christie, as well, was wondering now if her thoughts were pushing her to make some type of move on him.



“So, I have to ask….how long have you been at this place? It’s absolutely amazing, especially with the view out the picture windows over here.”



Christie watched him walk across the room to the one side of the penthouse that was covered in windows that were tinted completely dark on the outside to give her privacy. She had found that sometimes peeping toms from some of the high-rises across the way would try to get a view of her, so she paid the extra money to tint the windows to their maximum darkness.



“I’ve been here just under two years, now. The agency paid the down payment on it just after I did one of my big spreads. It’s pricey, but I can afford it. The entire top floor is mine, if you haven’t figured that out yet.”



She let out a playful little giggle as she saw his face upon being told that the entire floor was hers. It blew him away, but he eventually shook the look of shock off of his face as he kept admiring the view out the window before turning back towards her, walking into the spacious living room.



“Modeling and posing doesn’t exactly leave much time for you to go out and find a significant other, does it?”



Christie thought he might have been having the same lewd thoughts that she had, and a comment like that certainly made her believe more than ever that it was the truth. Deciding to poke a little bit at her nephew, she answered him in her own way.



“Well, if you’re asking do I get the chance to have a sex life, I certainly find a way for that. I’m a supermodel after all. I can pretty much fuck whoever I want, so long as I think they can handle it.”



She winked at him and then stuck her tongue out playfully at him, sending mixed signals to Michael. What kind of a response was that? Talk about a sex life, wink, then do something like stick your tongue out?



“Maybe not just about a sex life, but an actual relationships? I know that sex is important and plenty fun….”



“God, is it fun! I just don’t get the chance to do it much, though. Photo shoots take so much time that, by the time they’re done, all I have the energy to do at the end of the day is sit in a hot tub and take care of my own needs by myself.”



She was doing it on purpose, and she was enjoying every last second of it. She literally watched him squirm in the huge sofa, wondering what was going through his head as she said such explicit things to him. The reactions he was giving certainly showed that of a horny young guy who needed some attention.



“I know it’s fun…just haven’t found many that I’m interested in too much at school, Aunt Christie.”



“A handsome hunk like you can’t get laid at college!?! I find that hard to believe, Michael. You must be really picky…”



“Yeah…I tend to look for ones that are older than me, usually.”



Christie’s did everything she could to hide the reaction she had to that response. So she was right! Her nephew loved older women, and his reaction was practically saying that he wanted to fuck her in her own penthouse! Christie now wanted to know what her nephew could offer her, and it was time to turn this into overdrive. She sat up a bit in the love seat, looking over at him.



“Older women? How much older do you look for, Michael?”



Michael laid down on the couch, stretching, actually closing his eyes as he was a bit worn out, though his mind was not helping his cause.



“Ten, sometimes fifteen years older than me. I have a bit of a crush on one of my professors….she is gorgeous. Though, she isn’t the only one.”



“Oh? Tell me about this professor of yours.”



Christie sat up, realizing that he had closed his eyes. It offered her the chance to tease herself if the story got good.



“Well…she’s pretty tall, though not as tall as you. Brunette, small but gorgeous lips, a curvy body with an incredible ass…big breasts, but nothing like what yo….”



He cut himself off at that point, though he didn’t open his eyes.



“Like me? Michael…have you been doing a little checking up on me and comparing other women to what I have?”



Michael’s eyes flew open and glanced over at her. Christie was sitting up as if she was very eager. The look in her eye was one of seduction and lust, and it dawned on Michael that she may very well be teasing him…or getting herself turned on.



“I’ve been to your site. It’s tough not to go, considering that even though you are my aunt, you have such an incredible body.”

It had, Max thought, been a terrific summer thus far and he was glad his firm had allowed him the extra time off so he could come with Alli and experience it all. They had spent several days at the big powwow for Crow Fair and he had enjoyed the dancing contests and parades enormously. He found that he loved the rugged countryside and wide open spaces of the west that allowed him to see the sky and horizon uninterrupted by skyscrapers and the building clutter he was used to. Alli and Clayton tried, at every step, to make things easier and more comfortable for him in the sometimes unfamiliar world of Indian life and culture. And their friends and family had been warm and welcoming to him, despite some initially awkward moments due as much because of his age as because of his race, he thought.



Once Alli’s grandmother had found out about his talents with a toolbox though, he’d been “in like Flynn”. He recalled their initial meeting and her refusal to speak English to him for days, despite Alli’s anger with the old woman. He’d taken it in stride and tried to soothe Alli’s temper, but one day she had stormed out to have another yelling match with her silver-haired granny. In their absence Max had discovered several cabinet doors in the old woman’s kitchen that were hanging by one screw, as well as the door out the back that had warped from the weather and now dragged, sticking on the splintering boards of the back stoop.



Doing some snooping he’d managed to find a handful of assorted screwdrivers and a bare assortment of other tools in a small chest of drawers. In other drawers around the house he found odd screws and nails and gathering his booty took it in to work on the kitchen cabinets. Coming in later the little round woman had found him shirtless and sweating in the heat, but satisfied with himself as he checked the swing of the little wood cabinet doors. She had smiled toothlessly at him then, eyes sparkling and beckoned him to come with her, nearly dancing with excitement as she pulled him out to the old barn by one arm. Alli had come around the house too, demanding to know what was going on but he could only laugh and shrug before ducking under the lintel.



Alli’s Granny had hugged him fiercely, fingers lingering in the hair of his chest as she patted him. She giggled like a school girl then, her weathered old cheeks flushing. Turning to an ancient tarp covered mess in the corner, she stroked the canvas like the skin of a long-ago lover before telling him -



“Dees for you Max!”



By now Alli had entered the barn too and he heard her slight gasp as he turned back the cloth. He was more curious than seriously expecting to find anything, but with a growing sense of wonder discovered an ancient wood box with carpenter’s tools of a hundred years ago – wood planes, awls, rasps and chisels, ball peen and claw hammers and even a tack hammer resided in the dusty old box, all wrapped in oiled rags to protect them. Reverently he looked through the box examining the tools, while a rapid-fire exchange in Shoshone took place behind him. Finally, Alli had wrapped her arms around him from behind -



“You fixed her cabinets?”



“Uh huh,” he nodded, turning his head to plant a kiss on her nose. “And if these are in as good a shape as they seem to be, maybe we can get her door fixed tonight too. I was afraid it would have to wait till I could get to a hardware store in town.”



She kissed his shoulder, tonguing some of the salt sweat from his skin, “I didn’t know you knew how to do things like that.”



Turning in her arms he grinned down at her, kissing her nose again, “Seems I may have some value besides “standing stud” after all, huh?”



Flashing her full, dazzling smile at him she agreed, “Yeah, I’d say you’re a keeper! But seriously baby, how DO you know this stuff?”



He told her then about the summers of his high school years, after his parents had divorced, spending time with his grandparents who had a little place in the country. His grandfather’s good friend and neighbor was an older Amish gentleman who had taken Max under his wing, teaching him what he could of basic woodworking and construction during those few summers – taking him into the community for every barn raising possible. Max had developed a love of working with his hands that had gone largely unfulfilled, despite his minor in architecture.



“But I don’t understand where these tools came from,” he’d said. “How did your Grandmother get them? How long has she had them for cryin’ out loud? Would she have just left them here forever?’



Alli had, blushing, done some explaining of her own, telling him how her Grandmother (and consequently both Clayton and herself)”Granny Merry” was, despite appearances, not full blooded Shoshone. Merry’s father had been a “breed” – the son of an immigrant German carpenter and a young Arapaho girl, probably “purchased” as a bride with blankets, guns or whiskey. He had inherited the dark good looks of his mother, along with the blue eyes and skill working with wood of his father. It had made him irresistible to Merry’s mother, Mockingbird Sings in the Morning. They had many happy daughters together, but no sons, and before the old man had died he had Mockingbird wrap all his tools in skins soaked in linseed oil. He’d told Mockingbird and his daughters that the tools were “for the one who will come”. As far as Granny Merry was concerned, Max was “The One”.



As for how long it had been, closest reckoning put her Granny’s age near 90, plus or minus a year or two. There was an equally old and treasured German Bible that had all the births and deaths written in it but the ink was old, faded and smudged in spots so it was impossible to tell if the old woman had been born in 1921, 1924 or 1927. Then Alli had to try to explain “Indian time” – something for which there was no easy explanation. The closest way she could explain it to him was that Indian’s traditionally don’t measure time in the same way as white society and the business world – not in 24 hour days and 7 day weeks – but in seasons, ages, eras of conflict or of drought and abundance.



He’d already noticed elements of this. Clayton and his friends might say, ‘we’ll meet you in town around noon’. It might mean that most of them would show up at some point hungry for lunch. On the other hand, it might mean they would show up, en masse, sometime before dark. At first Max’s frustration with their lack of respect for Clayton’s mother, and their lack of punctuality had him feeling seriously disgruntled. Over the days that they had been there, however, Max had noticed Alli gradually relaxing and ceasing to take such lapses personally. She was still largely punctual and if she had given her word she would be somewhere then she would move heaven and earth to be there at the stated time. But on days when they had no plans or obligations, she and her friends or relatives might discuss doing something – but Max was beginning to understand that, in this world, in this place, there was no need to rush or to stress. Necessary things were accomplished because they were necessary – feeding the chickens and other stock. Slightly less imperative things might wait until more convenient – hauling water or cutting wood (or repairing kitchen cabinets, he thought with some humor). Hunting and fishing (and SEX) seemed to always be “imperatives” even if the larder seemed fully stocked and Max wondered how much the pleasure involved in the pursuit weighed in the decision making process. He began to suspect it was a determining factor.



In this case, the family was committed to periodically renewing the oiled cloths until such time as “someone” appeared or was born with the necessary talent and desire to use the tools. The actual historic time involved did not significantly matter.



Events following their explanations had deteriorated rapidly when Max had discovered Alli was bra-less in the summer heat. He DID learn an important lesson though. Individuals with hay-fever should avoid fucking in barns at all costs. Despite Alli insisting he shower immediately he had continued sneezing and coughing for several days and totally gave up wearing contacts in favor of his wire-rimmed “emergency” glasses. It had given Granny Merry plenty of time to round up all the other family members and close neighbors who needed work done around their homes. Max was working harder than at any time since his youth. He had also lost weight, built upper body muscle, gotten quite a tan clambering around on house and barn roofs without a shirt and was sleeping better than ever before in his life. He found, when he gave the matter any thought whatsoever, that he was happy.



Alli seemed happy too. She was cooking a lot – even baking her own sourdough bread. She had started a small vegetable garden, persuading a neighbor to assist with it now in preparation to take over once they’d gone home – in return for which the neighbor would share the produce garnered with Granny Merry. She and Granny frequently worked side by side in the cool of the morning and evening. Occasionally they would grab buckets and baskets and head out into the fields and woods, bringing back their gleaned treasures after spending hours away from the house. Sometimes they’d come home giggling like schoolgirls together and freshly sunburned from skinny-dipping in Big Jimmy Creek or one of the other local waterways. Despite their ‘trifling’ ways, the family (always including such assorted aunties, uncles, cousins and friends as managed to ‘just drop by’ at mealtimes) dined well on huge salads of field greens – “wild” miner’s lettuce and tender poke and dandelion greens with whatever nuts, mushrooms, edible berries and flowers the women had found on their travels. An assortment of vegetables fresh from the productive little garden – or perhaps a soup or stew with some of the game that Clayton and the cousins seemed to forever be hunting – along with liberally buttered slabs of the crusty homemade bread would usually serve to fill the most prodigious appetite. Max HAD noticed, however, that the Indians seemed to universally share a sweet tooth and could almost always manage “a nibble” of one of Alli or her Granny’s famous “scratch” cakes or cobblers.



As the days passed and he relaxed more into the rhythm of their life he realized he was truly learning to love the vastness of the western skies, the lack of traffic noise persisting into all hours and the clean, freshness of the morning air. There was always time enough for loving here as well and a quick pat of Alli’s fanny as she scrambled eggs for breakfast might result in her handing off the spatula to a giggling Granny Merry, or eye-rolling Clayton, as she hauled him back to bed. One of his first projects, after being gifted with the tools had been installing a lock on the inside of their bedroom door. It had been prominently lacking prior to that time and occasioned not infrequent battles between Alli and her grandmother who, although used to having unlimited access to the little back bedroom, seemed most prone to “needing something” in the middle of their lovemaking. Having a lock on the door, freed them from “middle of the night-silent mode” love making they had necessarily adopted by way of coping.



Alli had approved so heartily of his thoughtfulness that she had promptly dragged him inside the little room, locking the door behind her. Arching an eyebrow at her in a mock-quizzical mode he had asked -



“And just WHAT did you have in mind, Ms. Richards?”



Licking her lips and slowly unbuttoning her shirt she grinned at him, “I dunno, baby…I thought we might see what comes up…”



He leaned back on the bed, feeling himself already starting to get hard and strain against his jeans. Damn, he thought, she hasn’t laid a hand on me yet, or shown a tit…just the THOUGHT… Playing along still, he nodded slowly.



Well, I suppose I can spare a few minutes – but I really need to get over to Annabeth Cardinal’s place to look at that old desk of hers…”



She paused in the slow peel of her shirt. “A ‘few minutes’?”



He nodded seriously, trying not to adjust or draw attention to the now painful bulge at his crotch, “Uh huh…a few minutes…if you can think of some way of passing the time…”



She licked her lips again meaningfully as she finished peeling her shirt off, her dark nipples already standing hard and proud against her tanned skin.



“Oh, that…” he said, pretending to a despair he in no way felt. “I suppose that would be…well, ‘adequate’.”



Dropping her hands to her jean zipper she shimmied out of them, her panties immediately following. Advancing on him with a glint in her eye she announced -



“I’m about to GIVE you ‘ADEQUATE’!”



He pretended to try to cover himself with his hands -



“Now wait….Honey….Just a minute….Don’t be hasty….OOOOOOHHHHH!!!!”



She had, with the precision and forthrightness that is almost second nature to all medical personnel, pulled his shirt off over his head, unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his knees along with his boxers. Kneeling in front of him she had arched one brow, the tip of her tongue nearly touching her nose and rolling her eyes at his act before opening her mouth and engulfing him to the root. Hearing his groan of pleasure she had giggled but never stopped sliding and sucking on his cock. Bobbing down to the base, where the tight curls of his pubic hair tickled her nose and then sliding back to the crown, never losing contact, her tongue sliding and teasing the sensitive skin around the rim and particularly the little knot of tissue that was so sensitive to stimulation. His hands were working on the edge of the bed now and she knew he was longing to grip her by the back of the head and fuck her mouth – but knowing too that he loved the slow torture and tease that she was giving him and wanted to give her free rein. Dipping lower she bent her head, sliding her tongue along his taint, as her finger stroked the crack of his ass, finding and lightly tickling his asshole as she opened her mouth wide to suck in first one, then the other of his balls.



“OOOOOOhhhhhhh God!”



“Hmmmmmm?” She hummed around his ball, the vibration shooting straight up into his brain and back again. “Adequate I take it”



“Nnnnnnngggggg,” Max groaned wordlessly. Then, remembering the part he was playing said, “I suppose you’ll do…”



Muttering ‘I’ll do he SUPPOSES’ she slid lower, sliding her tongue up and down his taint before running the tip of her tongue up and around the base of his sack. Inhaling one ball happily into her mouth she simultaneously slid several fingers back and down the crack of his ass to circle the rim of his asshole with the pad of her index finger. It had been a warm day and the smell of clean male sweat and arousal rose around her. As she moved her knees a little further apart, switching from circling his parts to stroking her own she could smell her own musk rising too. Max was holding her head nestled between his hands now, his fingers buried in her hair and she could feel the tension in his hands as his balls drew up and hardened.



As much as he was enjoying her ministrations he didn’t want the moment to end too soon and knew if she continued the blow job he was indeed going to ‘blow’ shortly. Not that that was a problem either, he thought, she loved to drink his cum as much as he did hers, often teasing that her favorite snack was a ‘protein smoothie’. Groaning again his hips flexed involuntarily, the urge to “FUCK” was becoming overwhelming….time to change up the rhythm he thought.



Pulling away from her he kicked out of the remainder of his clothing, laying back on the bed -



“How about sharing a little of that good stuff you’re hoarding down there?”



Bringing her dew wet fingers up into view as she joined him on the bed she solemnly licked one of the fingers, “Hmmmmm, well….I dunno…seems to me the flavor is off a little…not quite up to snuff. What do you think?”



She held a finger to his lips. He licked it – making a major production of the process with plenty of lip smacking. “Mmmm. Really hard to say sweetie.”



She giggled at the double entendre.



“There’s really only ONE way to tell for sure!”



“Oh? And what would that be?”



“Avoid the middleman…or finger…”



Leaning over her and grinning lecherously he stroked her wet folds with his own fingers, bringing them up to examine them critically, “Moisture content seems adequate…”



“There’s that word again….ADEQUATE.”



Popping his own fingers into his mouth now and simultaneously saying, “Well, that seems to improve the flavor slightly…”



“Probably due to that bland, caucasian taste you have…” she grinned wickedly at him.



He nodded sagely, “True, certainly doesn’t have that ‘Red Man’ whang to it…”



Finally breaking into gales of laughter she wrapped her arms around him, “Okay baby – you win!”



“Great! WHAT do I win”



Throwing her limbs wide open again so she was spread-eagle on the bed she giggled, “ME of course!”



Falling backwards onto the bed again he groaned mightily, “DAMN! Here, and I’d always thought that a prize was something new and unusual…” Rolling back up onto an elbow to grin at her he continued, “Instead of just the same ol’ same ol’.”



Narrowing her eyes in mock-warning, she was unable to hide the sparkle of humor in her dark eyes as she repeated, “Same ol’ same ol?”



Patting her pussy and kissing her nose lightly he nodded sagely, “Yep, same ol’ same ol.”



“Mr. Roberts, you are getting dangerously close to sleeping alone on the couch!”



Continuing to toy with her wet folds he shook his head in disagreement, “I kinda doubt it sweetie…I seem to have fairly solid evidence that SOMEBODY in this bed seriously wants fucked…and I think the couch is a little small…and a little too public for that!”



Popping his wet fingers in his mouth again he noisily sucked her juices from them, grinning at her irrepressibly.



Dropping his hand back to her slit, he stroked gently down the length of her sex, tracing the path of her lower lips. He smiled as she caught her breath, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. He bent, seeking first to draw her lips into his own, unconsciously trying to find a way to compress all of the love and passion he felt for her into their shared kiss. Using the knowledge of her body he’d gained over the past months he played on her sex as though it were a musical instrument. He realized how well he’d succeeded when she surged against him, clinging desperately with her legs locked around his wrist. The heady perfume of her musk filled the little room and the damp spot below her on the bed widened.



Alli was puffing like a steam engine now, interspersed with little cooing cries of pleasure. Nibbling a trail of fiery kisses from the corner of her jaw he was unsurprised to find her thumbing her own nipples.



Tsk’ing at her he scolded, “MY prize sweetheart….ALL mine!”



Bending his head he opened widely, attempting to engulf as much of her breast as possible in his mouth. Sucking hard to pull her deep in his mouth he chuckled at the triumphant, ‘Ohhhh, YES, baby!’ that issued from the head of the bed. He thought again, briefly, it was a shame he hadn’t known Alli when her breasts had been filled with milk to nurse Clayton. But then, he realized, he’d have been too young to take full advantage of the situation.



Tonguing her nipple, flicking it lightly and circling it with his tongue, writing their combined initials across them, he was unsurprised to feel her cunt spasm against his fingers again. She’d told him once how much she loved nipple play, saying that her nipples seemed to be directly linked to her clitoris in some way. He bent his head a little lower, inhaling the sweetly erotic scent that always lingered just below her breasts, stroking along the fold of skin where they lay against her ribcage with his tongue, enjoying the salty tang of her sweat. Pausing briefly he blew a wet raspberry in her navel, just to hear her laugh.

Author’s note: Mostly true, the situation changed a bit to spice things up. While I didn’t sleep with “Kathy’s” mom (not for lack of desire, she was hotter than “Kathy”!), the motel event did actually happen.



Enjoy!




*



It was the early 1990′s and I was 33, stationed in Savannah, Georgia. I’d been there for about four months and got a part-time job delivering pizzas, figuring that the extra cash would help and the time spent working would keep me out of the bars and out of trouble.



Kathy, my new girlfriend, worked there also. She worked at the same pizza store and we’d been dating for two months. Kathy was a 24 year old short little hottie with huge boobs, but not especially pretty. What she lacked in looks, though, she more than made up in body and personality. It was always great to hang out with her. We were about to take the next step in our relationship, meeting her parents, the next day. I hoped that hurdle was the last before I got into her pants.



It was a Thursday night, and the following day was a training holiday (ie, day off for you non-military types), so I volunteered to work the closing shift. It was about three minutes to closing and I had already cashed out when the phone rang. I gave Gary, the manager, a disgruntled look as he reached for the phone to take the order.



“C’mon, man,” I pleaded, “you can ignore it this one time. I’m ready to go home.”



Gary gave me a stern look and picked up the phone. “Thank you for calling [big pizza chain with mafioso overtones], may I take your order?”



I saw him jot down the order (yeah, no computers then) and I started making the pizza even before he hung up. After he did, I glanced up at the clock: 11:02 PM.



“You realize that I’m off, right?” I said.



“Just pay for the order with your tips and go home after the delivery,” he replied. “If they stiff you, I’ll reimburse you tomorrow.”



I checked the address. It was in “The Hood” as we called it. There were several places in Savannah that a pizza guy, especially a skinny white one like me, had to keep his head on a swivel or else someone would liberate all his cash, accompanied by bruises or some cuts. We’d had two drivers robbed in the last six months and normally Leon, a massively-built black guy that nobody messed with, delivered to this area. The irony was that for all his mean looks, Leon was probably the nicest guy anyone would ever have the pleasure of meeting. Unfortunately for me, he was off that night to study for finals at the college he was attending. I was going to have to make the delivery.



Twenty minutes later, I nervously walked up with the small cheese pizza and twenty-ounce coke in hand. The delivery address was a sleazy motel that I’d never delivered to before. I knocked on the door to room 3 and waited. It was on the ground floor and I was angled so that if the door opened and I saw a knife or a gun, I could drop the food and make a break for it.



When the door opened, I was more surprised than if there HAD been a knife or gun sticking in my face. The woman that answered the door was probably in her mid to late 50′s with salt-and-pepper hair cut into a bob. I could see that life hadn’t been kind to her, and her face showed years of hard living. She was a few inches shorter than me and a bit on the thin side. The truly surprising part was that she was wearing a full-length nightgown that was completely see-through.



Her tits were small and kind of flabby, and she had the “old lady pooch” of a belly. Other than that, however, she wasn’t too bad to look at. She had nice legs.



“Uh….pizza!” I stammered, averting my stare and looking past her and into the motel room instead. I noticed that there wasn’t a single light on in there.



She turned and walked to the back of the motel room, leaving the door wide open. With her back to me, I noticed that she had a really nice ass. She pulled some cash from her purse, then turned around and stood there as if she wanted me to come into the room.



I’m a Star Wars geek. I wasn’t surprised to hear Admiral Ackbar’s voice saying “It’s a trap!” in the back of my mind, so I wasn’t planning on walking into that room. I shoved the pizza box out in front of me and repeated, “Pizza.”



She gave me an exasperated look and simply stuck her hand with the money out. I glanced around the dark room and didn’t see anyone, so I gathered up my courage and walked into the room over to her. I took the cash and set the pizza and soda down on the desk next to her purse. I thanked her as I started to walk out, but I made the mistake of looking into her eyes.



The second my eyes met hers, I knew I was going to fuck her. I could see it in her eyes…pleading, yet triumphant. The sexual connection between us was such a shock that I stumbled and almost fell. As I regained my composure, she had walked over and closed the door. It was almost pitch black, the only light coming around the edges of the curtain from the streetlights outside.



My breathing was rapid as she walked up to me, then I felt her slowly dropped to her knees in front of me. Nimble fingers unbuckled my pants, unzipped my jeans, and fished my half-hard dick out of my pants. The sensation of her wet, soft lips sliding down the head of my dick was exquisite. I’m sure that the situation heightened my senses…the dark, the mysterious woman, and all that, but she had the best mouth that ever covered my dick.



I felt the head of my cock nudge against the back of her throat, then her mouth slowly slide off it. Her tongue ran itself around my cockhead before the whole length disappeared back into her talented mouth. One of her hands caressed my balls while the other ran itself up and down my belly under my shirt.



She was mewling softly as she hungrily sucked my dick faster and harder. I knew it t wouldn’t be long before my dick would explode in her mouth, and I told her, “Jesus, lady, you’re going to make me cum!”



She yanked her mouth off of me. “No!” she said in a loud whisper. “I need to get fucked hard.” She stood up, and in the dim light I saw her turn around, bend over the bed, and gathered her nightgown up around her hips. “Fuck me in the ass!” she commanded.



I was definitely wet enough from her mouth. I moved behind her, lined up my dick with her asshole, and slowly started pushing myself into her.



She obviously didn’t want gentle. She slammed her ass back into me and my cock slid smoothly deep into her ass. I heard her gasp in pain, but she didn’t pull away.



I immediately started to pump my cock in and out of her, but she hissed “Wait….wait…” It was difficult to keep from moving, to keep from twitching my hips and making my throbbing cock move inside her hot, tight ass. I was just about to give up and start fucking her hard when I felt her relax around my cock and heard her say, “Fuck me hard, honey.”



My hands grabbed her hips and I started pounding into her with abandon. With every thrust, she grunted in pain/pleasure. My thighs slapped loudly against the back of hers. I felt her hand brush across mine as it shoved it’s way beneath her, her fingers search for and finding her clit. She stroked it madly as I frantically fucked her.



“Unnngh….oh…..OH……..YESSSSSSSS,” she moaned. I could feel her asshole convulse around my pistoning cock as her fingers brought her over the edge to orgasm. It brought me to the brink.



“Fuck, baby!” I grunted as my cock throbbed deep into her ass. My cum exploded into her, filling her ass with sticky wet heat. It felt like it went on forever as she massaged me with the muscles in her ass.



Eventually I collapsed on top of her, exhausted. Even though it was short, I put all my energy into fucking her ass and it left me drained. My dick slowly deflated inside her, then popped out with a rush of my juices.



I slowly rolled off of her. As I laid there and caught my breath, I felt her stand. A moment later, the light in the bathroom came on and I heard water running. I watched as she came back from the bathroom, a washcloth in hand. Climbing on the bed next to me, she gently washed my dick with the washcloth, then tossed it on the floor and laid down next to me.



“Is there more?” she asked, softly. There was a hint of a smile in her voice.



“Yes, ma’am…uh, what’s your name, anyway?” I asked.



“Wanda,” she replied as she laid back on the bed.



“Nice to meet you, Wanda,” I said, rolling over onto my stomach next to her. I kissed a trail from her neck to her chest, ending up with one of her nipples between my lips. I licked it gently, then softly sucked it into my mouth.



“Ohhhh,” Wanda moaned. In the dim light from the bathroom, I could see her hand slip between her thighs again. She slowly stroked herself as I paid attention to one nipple, then the other.



As I said before, she had small, kind of flabby tits. It was obvious that they were sensitive, however, as she arched her chest up and pulled my head against her breast tightly with her other hand.



“You can bite a bit,” she whispered. My teeth instantly grabbed the nipple and gave it a quick, sharp bite. She rewarded me with a gasp followed by a long moan.



As I alternately sucked and bit her nipples, my hand slid down her belly and pulled hers out of the way. My fingers found her sopping wet pussy, and I quickly found the engorged nub of her clit. I bit down fairly hard on a nipple as I forcefully rubbed her clit. She gave out a cry, but didn’t pull me off of either. The rougher I was, the more she moaned.



“God, fuck me,” she moaned. “Fuck me now!”



I pulled my mouth from her tit. “Are you in a rush?” I asked.



“Yes….no…..I don’t know….God, put your dick in me, please,” she begged.



I bounced up and slid between her legs. Grabbing the back of her thighs, I lined up my dick with her pussy and shoved. She was sopping wet, and my dick slid effortlessly into her. She wasn’t very tight, but the heat radiating onto my dick and the warm wetness of her pussy was intense.



I had thoughts of making love to this woman, fucking her long and slow, making her cum again and again. However, I was so turned on that I immediately started pounding her hard. I was immediately rewarded when she came again, scratching my back with her nails and slamming her crotch up to me in time with my thrusts.



I continued pounding into her pussy. Her pure lust had turned me into a raging animal desperate to mate. I was fucking her hard, feeling like an 18 year old with limitless energy and stamina. I wanted to cum, cum deep into her incredibly wet pussy and fill it with my seed.



I heard her gasp another orgasm and dimly felt her fingernails pull more furrows into my back. I slammed into her deep and hard and held myself there as my cum boiled out of my balls and sprayed deep inside her. I came so hard that it made me shake.



Suddenly, my body reminded me that I wasn’t actually an 18 year old with limitless stamina. Drained, my quivering hands released her thighs and I slowly collapsed on top of her. Gasping for air, I felt her pussy give a few more soft contractions.



“Uh….” she said, her voice shaky, “you’re heavy.”



“Sorry,” I mumbled, using my last bit of strength to roll off of her. She immediately rolled onto her side, her head cradled in the crook of my shoulder.



Silently, we laid there together, both of our chests heaving. When I caught my breath, I gently started to pull myself away from her.



“No…..please stay,” she said. “Stay with me tonight.”



I thought about it for a moment. I didn’t have to work tomorrow, and I wasn’t supposed to meet Kathy until the afternoon. “Okay,” I said. I felt her relax against me, one arm tossed across me almost possessively.



I don’t know which one of us fell asleep first. When I woke up, both of us were on our sides and I was pressed up against her from behind. I had a hand full of one of her tits.



While she softly snored, I untangled myself from her, got up, and did my morning bathroom routine. Seeing the motel had a coffee maker in the room, I made a pot. The smell must have woken her up.



“Good morning,” she said from under the covers. “Did you make coffee?”



“Yes,” I smiled back. I poured her a cup (“one sugar”) and brought it over to her.



“Do you know when the last time a man brought me coffee in bed was?” she asked.



“Seeing as how I just met you last night, no,” I laughed.



“It’s probably been decades,” she said, taking a sip from her cup.



I raised my coffee cup in salute to her. “Here’s to the next time being less than a decade,” I said.



Both of us lit up a cigarette and she gave me her story as we drank coffee and smoked. It turned out that she was married with an adult daughter that lived at home with them. Her husband wasn’t all that spectacular…overweight, overbearing, and she hadn’t had sex in a long time.



“So, do you do this often?” I asked.



She blushed. “No, this is the first time. I’ve been thinking about doing it for years, but I finally worked up the courage.”



“This is probably the wrong part of town to pick up strange guys,” I said. “You could have gotten robbed, or worse.”



She nodded. “I know,” she said,” but I didn’t want to have an affair, I just wanted to feel like a desirable woman again. I needed it so bad that I wasn’t thinking straight.”



“So how did you get out of the house without your husband knowing?” I said, curious.



“I’m supposed to be visiting my sister in Rincon,” she replied. “They don’t get along, so he’d never call to check up on me.” As she talked, her hand moved between us and gently grabbed my dick. It instantly sprang into full hardness.



I set my coffee down and leaned over her. I kissed her, a full lover’s kiss that spoke of the desire that she was causing in me. She responded, pulling me down on top of her.



I made the slow, sweet love to her that I had intended to last night, then left her basking in the afterglow as I went home. On the way out, I grinned at the unopened pizza box on the desk.



When I got home, there was a message on my answering machine from Kathy, reminding me that I was supposed to meet her parents that evening. Honestly, I did feel a bit bad about the spending the night with Wanda the day before meeting my girlfriend’s parents, but I rationalized it as just a one-time thing. She needed it, and I definitely enjoyed it, but it wouldn’t happen again.



I did some stuff around the house during the day, then about 4PM I took a shower, dressed in “meet the parents” clothes, and headed over to Kathy’s house. She answered the door and let me in, leading me to the living room. Her father sat on the couch, engrossed in some show or other on TV.



There was an immediate dislike between us. He’d spent some time in the military, having been drafted in the 60′s and thought he knew everything there was to know from his short term of service. After about 20 minutes, I gave up trying to correct his misconceptions about military life and gave Kathy a pleading look: Get me out of here.



Kathy asked me to help her in the kitchen. Once in there, she said, “Dad will probably take getting used to.”



“No kidding,” I said. She seemed a bit irked when I rolled my eyes.



Where’s your mom?” I asked, sneaking a slice from the carrot she was slicing up.



“Oh, she went to visit her sister yesterday,” Kathy replied. “She should be home any minute.”



Something twigged my memory, but I couldn’t put a finger on it. Stealing a second slice, I asked, “Oh? Where’s her sister live?”



“Rincon,” Kathy said. The sound of the front door opening and closing carried over the TV’s volume. “That’s probably her.”



“Mom! We’re in the kitchen!” she called out. She completely missed my choking on the slice of carrot. I managed to cover it. Surely, it couldn’t be…..



The color drained out of Wanda’s face as she saw me standing next to Kathy. She didn’t recover as quickly as I had, and Kathy had to ask her, “Mom…are you alright?”



Wanda nodded. “I’m fine, Kathy,” she replied, her voice strangled.



“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” I said. I acted like I hadn’t just pounded her pussy, fucked her asshole, and filled her with load after load of cum the night before. She shook my hand, then quickly left the kitchen.



Dinner went fairly well, if you exclude Kathy’s father being an ass the whole time. Wanda was quiet at first, but when she realized that I had every intention of keeping our secret, she opened up some and by the time dinner was over she was fairly chatty.



After dinner, I really didn’t feel like sticking around and visiting any more with her folks. I really disliked her father, and I was afraid that either Wanda or I would let something incriminating slip. I suggested that Kathy and I go see a movie and we left. Wanda was smiling as we left, giving me a big hug.



As we drove to the theater, Kathy said, “I’m sorry about Dad acting the way he did. He’s always like that, unfortunately. But, at least Mom really liked you.”



“Imagine that,” I said, smiling inwardly.



Kathy snuggled up against me. “Yep. She even told me that you were a keeper.”



Smiling, I figured I knew exactly why she’d say that.

Brief Summary: Jenny attempts to fulfill an order from one of her two Mistresses, when she meets with her unknowing teacher to finish a seduction she had slowly been doing all week (a brief sub-plot in Bedding the Babysitter 3).



Note 1: I recommend you read parts 1-3 to know the complete story of Jenny from shy, nervous in the closet lesbian to submissive, sexy cheerleader and seductress. That said, you only need to read part 3 to learn the set-up of her seduction of her teacher that she completes in this chapter.



Note 2: A special thanks to all who have e-mailed me about Jenny and requested I continue the story.



Note 3: Last, but certainly not least, a special thank you goes to Steve B for his suggestions and Estragon for his copy edit.




BEDDING THE BABYSITTER 4



SUNDAY FEBRUARY 9th: Mission Completed



I dressed in my cheerleader outfit and red thigh highs and headed to Starbucks, getting there fifteen minutes early. I ordered my drink and bought one for Miss Morgan as well, and sat down at an open booth where I could see Miss Morgan when she arrived, if she arrived. I sat for ten minutes, fidgeting at my boldness. And at 11:28 Miss Morgan, dressed in a pretty, but conservative, blue dress and black pantyhose walked in the door. She surveyed the room and stopped, face aghast, when she saw me. She stood frozen for a few seconds before joining me at the booth.



I smiled, handed her a coffee, and greeted, “Hi, Miss Morgan”



She sat down tentatively and took the drink. I could tell her mind was reeling. She was clearly attempting to come to grips with the reality of the situation. Silence lingered between us. I waited for a response from her, my heart pounding.



Finally, in a whisper so soft I could barely make out her words, “I can’t believe it is you, Jenny.”



“Did you have no idea?” I asked.



“No, although based on the past week, I guess it makes sense,” she said, still dazed. “H-h-how did you change so much, so quickly?”



I explained, “This may be hard to believe, but I found a Mistress and she opened up a whole new world to me.”



Miss Morgan still looked completely out of her comfort zone. I could tell she was fighting her conscience. She took a nervous sip of her coffee, “Who is your Mistress?”



I smiled, I was pretty sure I had her, “Well my main Mistress is a neighbour of mine, Mistress Megan.” I paused, making sure she was listening when I announced my other Mistress. I looked deep into her eyes, “My school Mistress, the one responsible for my sudden popularity is….”



“Karen,” she whispered, putting two and two together.



“Yes,” I confirmed, “How did you know that?”



“Just thinking about the week and how odd you were acting and I recalled Karen’s smirks,” Miss Morgan reflected.



I agreed, “Yes, Mistress Karen has been giddy all week with the thought of your seduction.”



“Oh my God,” Miss Morgan gasped, “Karen knows about this too?”



“Yes, it was her idea, but it is ok, Miss Morgan. Mistress Megan is in control of Karen too and there is one key rule to submission. Never, ever, please and tell.”



Miss Morgan laughed and then caught herself. Her smile faded and a serious facade replaced it. “This can’t happen Jenny. I am your teacher.”



“If that is how you feel, Miss Morgan, I will respect that,” I responded. “But, before you reject me, keep in mind I will never tell. I will be your perfect little pet. You know that I always strive to do the best at everything I do.” I slipped my foot out of my shoe and allowed my foot to slide up my teacher’s leg.



This startled her, but as I hoped, she did not move away or ask me to stop. Instead, she asked, already wavering, “But what if someone finds out?”



“No one will, Miss Morgan,” I assured her, “Plus we are both consenting adults, free to ravish each other in any and every way imaginable.”



A second gasp and a flush of red escaped Miss Morgan while she tried to deal with her conflicting emotions.



Attempting to push the envelope, aggressive even for me, I offered, “If you wish me to show my true loyalty to you Miss Morgan, I will crawl under the table and please you right here, right now.”



“Oh Jenny,” she said, flushed, “Stop that.”



“Am I making you wet?” I queried, teasingly. She didn’t answer as I allowed my foot to slide up a bit more, now under her dress.



“Please,” she whispered.



“Please what?” I asked.



“Not here,” she got out.



I reached for my purse and pulled out a piece of paper. I asked, confident I was right, “When you were chatting with me the other day you said you couldn’t stop thinking of a certain student. It was me, wasn’t it?”



“Yes,” Miss Morgan answered, not making eye contact with me.



“And,” I began before pausing for dramatic effect, “you said and I quote you ‘I want to take you home and use you as my personal sex slave’”.



“Oh my God,” she blurted, looking up, “Did I really say that?”



I handed her the transcript of our chat. She reread the entire conversation before finally speaking. “Ok Jenny, I did say that, but it was role play and I had no idea I was talking to an actual student.”



My foot moved to within an inch of her pussy. Inside I was confident I had won. “Can we go back to your place?”



When Miss Morgan didn’t answer, I moved my foot so it was touching her panty-covered crotch. “I, um, we can’t, we just can’t.” To my surprise, she stood up and apologized, “Sorry, Jenny, I just can’t do this.” Before I could respond, Miss Morgan hastily made her retreat.



After she left, I finished my coffee, contemplating what went wrong. After a couple of weeks of living a very charmed life, I guess I was bound to fail. I texted Karen and told her of my epic failure. She didn’t immediately respond, so I finished my coffee and went to the bookstore, my personal solitude whenever I was feeling down.



I went to the teen section and browsed the new titles. There is just something so exciting about holding a book in your hand. Looking at the cover, reading the brief summary on the back or inside the book jacket, and reading other authors praise the book. I spent an hour browsing through title after title, making a list on my Ipod touch notebook of books that caught my interest. If I bought every book I wanted to read, I would never have any money. I finally settled on a novel called Delirium. It was about a time in the future, where when you turn eighteen you have an operation to prevent a disease…LOVE. It sounded interesting and different from other novels, plus I was definitely struggling with the word LOVE. I loved my time with Mistress Megan, I loved my one time at the Le Chateau Club, I loved the attention I got at school now, I loved being submissive to Karen and I loved the thrill of the chase with Miss Morgan, even if I did fail. But mostly, although I wouldn’t label it love, or lust either, my feelings for Ashley were different from anything I had ever felt before. I mean, I had greatly enjoyed my newfound submissiveness and all that followed, but my time with Ashley was different. I felt something more than just pleasure, something more than just the heat of the moment, something completely different and foreign. I couldn’t explain it, or quantify it, but none the less it was embedded deep in my heart. I wanted to call her, but really had no idea what to say. How do you attempt to have a normal conversation the day after such a night of naughty and yet romantic sex? Even though I was pretty confident she felt the same way I did, how does one know for sure? Especially under the circumstances we began our relationship, me a cheerleading sub and all. Not to mention, even if we did start a taboo lesbian relationship, I already had not one but two Mistresses. Could I give that up? Did I want to give it up? These questions spun in my head like a tilt-a-wheel until I thought I might be sick.



I grabbed a fruit smoothie and a muffin, and sat down to read and relax. I wasn’t three pages in when I heard a voice I knew. I glanced up from the novel I had just started and, sure enough, it was Miss Morgan ordering a drink too, a bag of books in her hand.



She hadn’t seen me yet. I contemplated the odds of seeing her again an hour later. Concluding they weren’t good, I took it as fate’s way of giving me a second shot.



Once she received her drink, a fruit smoothie as well, she turned around and saw me. I joked, “Fancy meeting a girl like you in a place like this.”



She chuckled nervously. “Sorry for the hasty retreat this morning. I just needed time to think.”



Realizing I might still have a chance, I asked, “Did you have time to think?”



She scanned the room, looking for I don’t know what, before sitting down beside me. “Yes, I did.”



She seemed to be struggling with what to say next. “And?” I questioned, attempting to lead her on.



“I can’t get you out of my mind,” she confessed.



Inside I was giddy with excitement, but outside played it cool, offering an olive branch. “The offer from this morning still stands, Miss Morgan.”



She seemed to be attempting to process this when I decided to take a risk. I kissed her; a quick, yet passionate three-second kiss. As expected, she didn’t break it. Instead I did and whispered into her ear, “I will be at the front of the mall in five minutes. If you want to take me up on my offer, pick me up. If you don’t, I will catch the bus and head home.” I bit her ear gently and allowed my hot breath to linger. She gave just the softest of moans, the evidence I needed to feel confident my seduction was working. Satisfied I had enticed her, I stood up and walked away. I was tempted to look back, but resisted.



I couldn’t believe how excited and nervous I was while I waited to see if my boldness paid off. Two weeks ago I was too shy to even complain when my order was wrong at McDonald’s. Now I had just propositioned my teacher. I checked the time, every few seconds, hoping I enticed her enough.



Just as I was beginning to think I had failed a second time, Miss Morgan pulled up. I got in the passenger side and she quickly sped off, like she was the getaway driver in a bank robbery.



Once on the road, she said, “I can’t believe we are going to do this.”



I attempted to comfort her and convince her she made the right decision. “Me either, Miss Morgan. I have wanted this to happen for a long time.”



“Really?” she asked, surprised.



“Miss Morgan, I began to think I might be a lesbian when I started taking your class. I began dreaming about you. I fantasized kissing you, touching you, pleasing you. I just never thought you might be interested in someone like me.”



“Oh my God, Jenny, I have had inappropriate thoughts about you all semester. Way before you began to dress so provocatively. I loved how cute, innocent and pure you looked,” my teacher confessed.



Insecurity hit me. “Do you mean you like the old me more?”



“No, but the old you was more the real you, don’t you think?”



The conversation was getting very real. I knew I had changed a lot these past couple of weeks in all areas, but not once did I think it was a bad thing. Was I losing the real me? Was the old me even the real me? If not, who was the real me? These thoughts ricocheted around my head like a racquetball. I announced my sudden insecurities. “I don’t know who the real me is anymore, Miss Morgan.”



“Just do what you want to do Jenny. Don’t do things for others’ approval. You are a great young lady and have a bright future ahead of you.”



Tears began to roll down my cheeks. It was strange to have someone tell me to be myself, especially when I no longer knew who that was. Finally, I spoke the only truth I knew for sure. “Miss Morgan I am still trying to figure out who I am. I don’t know what I want to do next year, I don’t know where I want to be next year, but I do know where I want to be right now.” I put my hand on her knee and squeezed gently.



Her face turned red and her breathing changed just slightly. “Jenny, are you sure?”



“Miss Morgan, I am unsure of many things in life. But when it comes to this,” I paused, “I have never been surer of anything in my life.”



We arrived at her house and pulled into her garage. Once parked, Miss Morgan seemed to hesitate, unsure what to do next. I moved my hand under her dress. Pantyhose blocked access to the pussy I now craved to sample. I leaned in and kissed her again, making sure she didn’t have time for second thoughts. My tongue parted her lips and, although tentative at first, Miss Morgan kissed me back. I pushed my finger hard onto her covered crotch as we kissed. She moaned into my mouth, and we kissed for what seemed like an eternity. It was passionate, it was gentle. It was exactly how I had imagined it so many nights while in my bed with just me and my fingers. I felt a tingle down below and finally broke the kiss. I began to unbutton her blouse. She stopped me, attempting to catch her breath, “Let’s go inside, Jenny.”



Attempting to push the envelope, “Yes, Mistress Morgan, anything you say.”



She gave a slightly startled look, but didn’t say anything as she got out of the car and led me into her house. Once inside, we went straight to her bedroom and it was now Miss Morgan’s turn to surprise me. She pushed me onto her bed and crawled on top of me. She leaned in to kiss me. Her lips barely touching mine, she kissed me ever so gently. She followed the soft pecks by sucking on my lower lip. I had never been kissed like that and it was driving me crazy, making my pussy very damp. She moved down to my neck and gave soft nibbles and teasing sucks, spending enough time on each spot to potentially leave a hickey. Slowly she moved down my body and pulled me up so she could take off my shirt. “Oh, my,” escaped her lips when she saw my tight white breasts, still bundled in my white lace bra.



I shivered slightly, suddenly cold, and feeling like prey to my salivating teacher. She kissed the tops of my breasts while reaching behind to unbuckle my bra and release my breasts. Once freed from their confines, Miss Morgan cupped both in her hands and looked like a child in a candy store. She spent at least ten minutes adoring my breasts. She kissed, nibbled, and sucked on my nipples. The tenderness and deliberate teasing had me on the edge of complete ecstasy, desperate to come soon. I whimpered, “Mistress, please let me come.”



She bit my nipple, not hard, but hard enough to make a statement. “Princess, lay back and enjoy. I want to savour every minute of our time together.” She bit my other nipple, before sliding her tongue down my belly. I had never had someone use her tongue in my belly button, but the feeling was shockingly erotic. Maybe because it was so close to my pussy, maybe because I was so horny or maybe it was simply another erogenous zone in my overactive horny body. Either way, when her head moved lower and under my cheerleader’s skirt, I let out an excited moan.



Miss Morgan asked, “Is one of your orders no underwear?”



“Yes, Mistress Morgan,” I responded, my breath giving away my anticipated eagerness.



“Please call me Cameron, Princess.”



“As in Cameron Diaz?” I had to ask.



“The one and only,” she whispered, her finger making just the slightest of contact with my pussy.



“Aaaaaah,” I let out. “I thought your first name was Wanda.”



“That is my middle name. I can’t have people knowing my real identity online.”



“That makes sense,” I whimpered again, her finger teasing me.



“You have such a beautiful vagina, Princess.”



She leaned in and under my skirt. I moaned in reply, as her tongue made contact with my pussy lips, “Thank you, Mistress Cameron.”



Her tongue explored my whole pussy region. She slowly moved her tongue up and down my lips, lightly teasing me. Her tongue slid below my pussy lips and teased the crack of my ass. I wanted to see her, so I begged, “Can you take my skirt off, Mistress? I want to be able to watch you.”



She moved out from underneath my skirt and, without a word, reached for my skirt. I lifted my ass to assist her and soon I was only wearing thigh-high red stockings. She smiled seductively before returning to my feverish pussy. She continued the slow meandering teasing, still avoiding my clit. I could feel juice beginning to leak out of me, her teasing driving me to the brink. My moaning began to increase with each lick of my teacher’s tongue. Suddenly, just when I couldn’t take it anymore, she slid a finger inside my pussy while at the same time taking my swollen clit into her mouth. In a second, I screamed, “Oh my fucking God, Miss Morgan, I’m coming.” An electric jolt tore through my body as an orgasm exploded out of me and through me. Miss Morgan let go of my clit, but kept finger-fucking me as she licked the juices leaking out of me. Much to my surprise, the continued attention kept my body revved up and, as one orgasm simmered, a second began bubbling inside. I begged, “Oh yes, Mistress Cameron, don’t stop, make me come again.” A second finger slid inside me, joining the first, and I let out a squeal of delight. She again took my clit into her mouth and somehow licked it while at the same time sucking it in her beautiful mouth.



The sensation and the stretching of my tight pussy had me again on the verge of orgasmic bliss. To my surprise, Miss Morgan finally spoke, her words sending shivers through me, “That’s it baby, come for teacher, come harder than you ever have, Princess.”



Hearing my sweet, beautiful teacher order me to come was the final breaking point. My body shuttered to a second, smaller, but still gloriously beautiful orgasm. “Oh yes, Mistress, you are too good to me,” I moaned, pure pleasure resonating inside me.



Miss Morgan pulled her two fingers out of me. She lapped up my juices for another minute, before sitting back up and moving beside me. Lying face to face with me, my juices coating her face, she complimented, “You have the most delicious pussy I have ever tasted.”



The compliment sent a chill up my spine. I am sure I blushed as I responded graciously, “Thank you, I bet you taste divine yourself.”



It was Miss Morgan’s turn to blush. “I get very few complaints.”



“I bet you don’t,” I teased, before asking, “Anyone I know get the privilege of pleasing you?”



Her face went from blissful to panic as she responded, too quickly, “Oh, no, no. I was just talking hypothetically.”



Her reaction told me she had at least one lover and I wondered if it was someone I knew, but decided not to push it, deciding instead that it was time to return the favour. I attempted to be seductive, “Miss Morgan, is there anything I can do for you?”



I could tell she was slightly nervous, which seemed ironic after what she had just done to me. I could tell she was trying to find a way to tell me what to do, so I decided to do it for her. I moved up and kissed her gently. I pulled her up and unzipped her dress. With a bit of a struggle, I took off my teacher’s blue dress. I was then face to face with her beautifully firm breasts, barely being held inside her white lace bra. I kissed the top of her breasts while I fumbled with the buckle of her bra. Eventually, I released my teacher’s large breasts from her fabric prison and took one of her nipples into my mouth. Miss Morgan moaned and I cupped, fondled and sucked on her large ‘C’ breasts for a long time, becoming completely lost in them. Finally, I moved down her body and slowly pulled off her pantyhose. I suggested, “Miss Morgan, for future reference, it is way easier to get to your appetizing pussy if you wore thigh-high stockings.”



“I will have to buy some then,” she replied, her breath already anticipating my tongue.



Once I had her pantyhose off, I slowly removed her pink undies. I returned between her legs, eager to taste her. Her pussy was not shaved nor really hairy, just natural. I buried my head between her legs. Her legs stiffened, anticipating my touch, but I teased, “Miss Morgan, can I eat your pussy?”

The phone rang after the office had closed. Edith sounding needy and soft voiced. After some gentle verbal sways with each other she announced,



“Ian, I’m home alone for a few days. I shall want to see you if you can spare the time. I know that Esther and Jason are away on business, (said with some bitterness). But I have had the spare time to peruse his files and have found some things that might interest you.”



Pressed to tell me she resorted to a gentle tease instead, which, of course, immediately got me interested.



I knew Esther was away with her father on so-called business but I had by now made up my mind that she wasn’t the love of my life and would make the most of her absence. However, before I set the separation and divorce in motion I was going to pace it on my terms.



I had already thought of a great ruse to enjoy myself with Edith. So before I satisfied her wish to have me in their family home again, I suggested she come to London for a bit of extended pleasure on my patch for a change. I implied that I wanted to show her off in a ‘public’ but private venue where she could fully acknowledge her new found sexuality. She became hooked by the idea and I arranged to meet her about 10pm at the main station for her line into London. Initially astonished at my suggestion, she then readily accepted my instructions as to what to wear as she would be going out with me directly on arrival in London.



We took a taxi to the outskirts of north London and arrived at a club I occasionally frequented. It was a couple’s club which during midweek was open to singles for a small fee. So couples were usually outnumbered by single men and a few single women who tended to arrive in pairs and got in for free. The club was licensed so drink was readily available. We were screened. I was a member so no problem.



I showed Edith her cloakroom so she could leave her coat as did I. On her return she immediately attracted the attention of the ten or so single men there. I had instructed her in what to wear. She did more than justice. She did have a small shawl designed for discretion. The shawl covered a sheer black and red lined basque leading to garters that supported her stocking fishnets and four inch heels. The basque had no bra top but just held up her breasts firmly and prominently. I recalled her unusual diamond body shape when I had first met her. The outfit emphasised those luscious hips and proud thighs. She looked astounding but a little shy at first as she got accustomed to the low lighting, loud music and highly sexual atmosphere. She grabbed my hand.



“Ian, hold me. Let’s dance. I’m finding this place a bit much. I’ve never experienced anything so public before.”



“No worries Edith, no cameras allowed. Everybody is very discreet. You only play if you wish to.” Just as I commented in the midst of the small crowd dancing or rather, smooching, a hand slid across my groin between us. It was a cross-dressed man touching me up by my cock and soothing along. I experienced a sudden frisson that took me back. Before I could dwell on it, Edith looked shocked. I was beginning to regret bringing her here and should have chosen my porn cinema, but it would have been closed before we arrived, given her lateness at the station. But just after that moment of my being stroked the woman who was with the cross-dresser leaned close to Edith and whispered in her ear. I couldn’t hear it but I saw Edith smile and thank her. The woman followed up by caressing her hips with a grace and softness that obviously pleased Edith.



I recalled to myself that it had been those luscious hips that fascinated me in the first place, that fateful evening she and Jason came round to our house. Her diamond body shape had instantly given me a hardon as I imagined entering her anally. Now this woman was explicitly complimenting her on her unusual frame that would in many circles not be regarded as beauty. The woman, moved to kiss Edith gently on her cheek, was dressed conventionally in a blouse, skirt and heels but exceptionally by having superb pear shaped breasts, unleavened by a bra. Edith returned the kiss as the woman took Edith’s hand and pressed her to her breast. I noticed how Edith let her fingers centre on the woman’s nipple and kneaded it deftly, no doubt benefitting from her experience with Freda. God how Freda would have loved this place.



In her other ear, I suggested she was seeming a little more relaxed now. She used her free hand to pinch my bum, whilst the woman’s cross-dresser was still urging my cock harder. Unbeknown to Edith or the woman, I had form with the man in my adolescence, hence the frisson. His presence here in the club was a surprise to me but a pleasant one after so many years. I had kept up my knowledge of him through a mutual friend.



Then the music ended for the moment and we withdrew all four of us to a corner near the wall. I became separated from Edith for a moment. The other woman moved quickly to give Edith a hug, but then moved both her hands over Edith’s open breasts. Tits was definitely the word at the moment. They were so prominent that, the woman, whom we came to know as Camille, moved her mouth to Edith’s left nipple and sucked as if it were her last. Her partner, dressed rather deliciously in a short skirt and suspenders was taking my hand between her thighs to feel her cock covered in silkie panties, not letting go of her/his hand on mine!



I got him to pause on me, (I didn’t want to cum) but he was very pleased at my releasing his cock from its slight confines and wanking him whilst we both watched our women. Camille was now mouth kissing a passive Edith, whilst stroking her left nipple and teasing it. Then I saw her hand slide down the fullish basqued tummy toward her bare and hairy labia. Her deft hand crept into her wet flesh and started to excite her with a sophisticated manipulation only women can do when they know how. I watched as Edith rose to her touch. It happened so quickly. Edith went right over the top but didn’t let out her usual cum noises in this rather public place. She looked tortured as she came, but with a pleasure we all understood and appreciated.



At that moment my cross-dresser shot his load onto the floor with the welcome assistance of my hand. Once Camille let Edith come back to us she moved to her partner, bent down and cleaned his still wet cock in her mouth.



Edith pleaded a pause, thanked Camille with warmth as did I for that enjoyable cock pull and we went to the bar for a drink and a relax on one of the ample couches.



After awhile, Camille started to show interest in Edith again by way of leaning back in an opposite couch, opening her thighs and silently inviting Edith to get down and take her orally. Meanwhile Camille’s partner, John, in his short skirt, stockings and frilly panties was soothing his cock under the smoothness of his panties. Then he leaned forward and started to stroke me. I hadn’t cum remember, whereas he had, along with Camille. He very quickly had me hard and was unzipping my trouser with a deftness I shouldn’t expect in a man. Meanwhile Camille had drawn Edith inexorably toward her wet open cunt, held invitingly open by her own hands. Now she was firmly at Camille’s lust alter.



I was now feeling extremely horny as John unravelled my now hardened penis. He looked me in the eye. I returned his gaze. He made an unarticulated request. I assented. We hadn’t changed in all those years.



For the first time since my adolescence, I let a man take his mouth to my cock. The association of man, my cock, his mouth awakened in me a sexual urge I hadn’t felt since then. I don’t know why I let him but I simply wanted it. He let his mouth run round the crown of my cut cock with a smoothness I hadn’t expected. He had been lucky in choosing Camille as a partner. As he was sucking my wet cock I was tempted to spend myself in his mouth. My heightened excitement alongside Edith’s assault gave me even more dirty thoughts. He was now on the couch alongside me, whilst Edith was kneeling on the floor in Camille’s crotch.



I slid my hand along John’s back over his buttock and over his groove. It was just a hunch, but I wondered. With my finger, I probed and felt and swung into his hidden pucker. He stiffened with excitement and let me venture further into his rectum. He was revelling in his blowjob as well as having himself finger fucked.



Again, without words, he glanced up, got acknowledgement and slowly withdrew his tongue and mouth from my cock whilst giving it a reassuring lick. Reaching for his handbag, and funnelling into it, he eventually found his treasure, a small bottle of lube, the same as I used with Edith when we went anal.



Pulling John up, he realised what I wanted and leaned over the couch next to Camille who was getting very near, with Edith fastened on to her clit like she could never leave. John and I relented in our quest as our partners reached Camille’s climax. She did scream to Edith’s final pressure on her new friend’s clit. I found out later she was also massaging Camille’s anus. They both collapsed and cuddled barely aware of what was going on beside them.



John whispered something to Camille that I couldn’t hear and wasn’t meant.



Edith and Camille slowly came to and watched what was going on between John and me. Deftly, John squeezed some of the lube onto my penis. It was smoothness itself. I knew it just goes on and on. He then gave me the tube. Pulling down his panties clear of his buttocks, I squeezed more lube onto my fingers and worked his lovely anus in my fingertips until I was penetrating that wonderful hole. Normally I am het who just loves women’s anal cavities. Here I was with John, who had a crush on me so many years ago, deftly making him accessible for me. I was horny as hell and knew I wouldn’t last long, but knowing it was a long ambition of John to have me this way or as he had started those few minutes ago.



I was ready. My cock was very hard and well lubed up. I had two fingered John’s sphincter with the lube. He was so ready. Now Edith and Camille were totally absorbed in a sight I sensed they had not previously observed.



I pressed the head of my cock against his pucker and pushed slowly. I felt resistance. But my head was just in, but could easily have been pushed out. I held my position. John moved slightly. Carry on it meant. Suddenly I was beyond his sphincter into his canal. Holding. Pushing. Holding. Pushing. In.



“Ian fuck me I’m ready. Do it I want it. I couldn’t have imagined I would see you here tonight. Thank god. Fuck me now.”



I held his hips with his skirt up round his waist and upper hips and fucked for all I was worth.



“Fuck, I’m cuming for god’s sake…. . . .”



With that stutter I shot my load in my old friend’s arsehole. I hadn’t noticed he had lubed himself and got Camille to finish him off just after I had cum.



We collapsed together into the arms of each other and our women.



When we surfaced we properly introduced each other. They were pleased as punch to hear Edith was my mother in law. Edith and Camille were astonished to hear of our friendship all those years ago and, more important, what form it took.



We all agreed the club had been a great success. We spent some time watching other couplings and yet we all felt sated from our own unexpected couplings.



John and I agreed we would meet separately as well as with our partners very soon.

Summary: A young lesbian soccer coach seduces a rich upper class mother.



NOTE: A special thank you goes to Steve B for his editing suggestions and Estragon for his exhaustive copy editing work.




*



Layla loved summer: the hot sun, the sandy beaches and the soccer season.



Layla was 21 years old and had just finished her second year of college on a soccer scholarship.



To pad her resume and because she loved soccer, Layla had volunteered to coach one of the girl’s advanced training camps.



Layla was a jock in every sense of the word. She was tall, slim, small breasted, 34b, and had long tanned legs. Her blonde hair was always in a ponytail and her eyes were a hypnotic aqua blue.



She was also a lesbian and had known and accepted her sexuality since she was a teenager. Although she looked sweet and innocent, her looks were incredibly deceiving. If ever the old saying ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’ was true, Layla would be the perfect example. Behind that sweet facade was a domineering seductress. This should not be a surprise. She was an extremely aggressive player on the soccer field; her behaviour in her personal life was no different. She was captain of her varsity soccer team and thus always in charge; not surprisingly, she also had to be in charge of her love life.



In truth, she got most aroused not by being physically pleased, but instead by having her white lovers, her sexual playthings, submit unconditionally to her. The problem she had was that all her submissive playthings were young, inexperienced and dumb. They were no challenge and thus after the initial thrill of having some uppity chick pledge allegiance to her perfect body, little thrill came from having them submit. Oh sure it was fun and diabolical to crush some stuck up sorority bitch and make her beg to lick her ass or seduce and awaken the sexual beast of some shy, reserved southern belle, but the thrill faded fast when they actually submitted and at best were adequate lovers. Then fate intervened….







Clara Walsh had lost her husband two years ago in a car accident and was raising her teenage daughter Maddie by herself. Clara had not even considered another man and her only sexual fulfillment was her six inch dildo, the same one she had pleasured herself with back in college. She had no idea of the technological advances in the erotic toy industry.



Clara received a large sum of money from her husband’s life insurance, and spent her days writing her novel. She also made sure to spend as much time as she could with her 18 year old daughter, who would be going to college in the fall in New York, thousands of miles away from her.



Clara had raven black hair and green-blue eyes, that seemed to change based on her mood. She was short, at 5’2, and had large, only slightly sagging 40d breasts.



Maddie, her shy daughter, had joined the soccer team at the urgent and constant harassing encouragement of her gym teacher who said she had raw untapped potential. Much to Maddie’s astonishment, she loved playing soccer. No one was judging her flat chest, no one knew she used to be fat, had braces and acne and no one knew about her dad’s death. She got a fresh start; a chance to create a new persona….







Mrs. Sammantha Jones was one of the most powerful women in the city. Her husband was CEO of a major bank, and she was the trophy wife. She was head of the PTA of her daughter’s school, head of the parent/grad committee (that just happened) and was chair of her local co-op home association. She spent hours maintaining her perfect body, at all costs. She worked out daily and had very expensive, but impressive, implants. Although in her mid-forties, she looked and dressed much younger. When she and her 18-year-old daughter, Tiffany, were together, most assumed they were siblings. Sammantha dressed as a rich trophy wife should: dresses, heels, stockings, jewellery, all the accoutrements. She always looked perfect and always attempted to be the center of attention.



As usually is the case, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Tiffany had the same red hair; the same sweet seductive green eyes; and the same bright smile and Angelina Jolie lips. Tiffany also had the same ‘I am better than you’ attitude and the same diva complex. Tiffany tried out for soccer for one reason and one reason only: boys. At her high school, soccer was second in popularity to cheerleading. So, of course, Tiffany was captain of her cheerleading squad and goalie of her soccer team. She was incredibly flexible and quick, but, playing goalie she didn’t have to do all that exhausting running. Much even to her surprise, she not only liked it, but was damn good. The goalie was the heart of the team and thus so was Tiffany.







The first week of camp was all work and no play. Actually, the balls didn’t even come out till Wednesday. It was simply a gruelling week of intense physical tests. Layla believed she knew who the real soccer players were based on the first week. True players don’t bitch; they just work their asses off. After day two, Layla had already concluded that the girl with the most potential was Maddie. She worked her ass off and never let down for a second. Such dedication greatly impressed Layla and the naughty side of Layla wondered if Maddie would make a good little sub.



On the contrary, after about twenty minutes of the first day, Layla also knew who the biggest pain in the ass was going to be. Tiffany sauntered onto the field like it was a runway and complained instantly about Layla’s ‘endurance is key to victory’ philosophy. She even went so far as to suggest that she should get different treatment because she was a goalie. If Layla thought Tiffany was bad, her mother was even worse. As she repeated on numerous occasions, she had paid very good money for her daughter to get the best soccer camp and hadn’t paid all this good money to watch her daughter run. Layla played nice to her face, but was already considering her as a great MILF to seduce and control. She was bossy, bitchy and stuck-up, the type who, Layla had learned, desperately needed to be broken. Layla had learned early in her sexual prowls that the more confident and dominant a girl acted in public, the more likely it was that she was sexually weak. Layla looked at the mother-daughter pair and wondered how much fun it would be to Domme them both. Layla smiled deviously as she thought about it.







Week two saw their first game, and Layla surprised many when she didn’t start Tiffany, but the weaker, but harder working, Sally. Tiffany had a meltdown and her mother a similar one in the stands when she realized her precious was not in goal.



Layla, though, just smiled through it all, her decision having a double purpose. First, to make a statement to Tiffany, her mother and the team: hard work pays off and Layla played favourites to no one. Secondly, just to fuck with Tiffany and her mother, and to create the conflict that would trigger Mrs. Jones’ journey to becoming her submissive little MILF slave.



To make matters worse for young Tiffany, Sally played extremely well, making a few big saves in a 2-0 victory.



Maddie was the offensive star with a brilliant individual effort that scored their first goal and set up Carrie for their second goal, late in the match.



If Layla looked forward to crushing the Jones girls, she was also greatly intrigued by the sexy, shy and reserved Mrs. Walsh. Layla couldn’t explain it, but there was something remarkably sexy about her. She dripped sweetness like maple syrup, yet had a raw sexiness that Layla felt certain was just lying dormant, dying to break free. Layla envisioned a much different seduction with this sweet, innocent MILF.



As expected, when the game ended, Mrs. Jones was chomping at the bit to have a discussion with Layla. Layla coolly listened as Mrs. Jones lambasted her in front of other parents and spectators. Layla remained calm until the MILF, or as Layla now called her MIPD (mom I plan to dominate), finished her one sided rant, before politely smiling. “This is not the place for this conversation.”



Mrs. Jones continued her verbal assault until Layla’s smile faded and she said loud enough for all remaining, which was pretty much everyone, “Mrs. Jones, last time I checked I was the coach of this team. So if you don’t like how I run the team and the camp, I am sure Mr. Quincy would be willing to refund your money.”



As Layla expected, Mrs. Jones was not used to having someone talk back to her and was speechless.



Layla, knowing she had won this tiny battle, turned to her young team and congratulated them on playing a great first game. She finished by discussing a new tradition that already existed in football, the game ball. Layla explained that after each game, a game ball would be awarded to a member of the team who best represented true teamwork. Layla, looking directly at Tiffany, handed the ball to Maddie. Maddie looked like she had won the lottery. Tiffany’s cheeks went a flaming red that matched her long hair. Layla, toying with the rich bitch mother, turned around, smiled and winked at her. Daggers were returned. Layla turned her back once again on the pretentious mother-cunt and visited with her players.



Ten minutes later, Layla began to head to her car when she saw Mrs. Walsh in the background, patiently waiting for her daughter. Layla walked over to the shy woman. Layla started the conversation. “Mrs. Walsh, your daughter is one great soccer player.”



“Thank you, Layla,” she replied, beaming like a mother should when her daughter makes her proud, “and please, call me Clara.”



“Ok, Clara,” Layla obeyed, “I assume she gets her hard work and determination from you.”



The beautiful MILF or MIPS (mom I plan to seduce as Layla referred to her in her seduction plan), shyly responded, “I don’t know about that. Her father was the athlete.”



“Oh, too bad he wasn’t here to see her one-girl show today.”



Clara’s whole demeanour changed. She whispered, “He died a couple of years ago.”



“I’m so sorry,” Layla consoled, now feeling slightly awkward. She leaned in and gave Clara a big friendly hug. “If there is ever anything I can do for you,” Layla began, before giving a slightly suggestive tone, “and I do mean anything….”



Clara smiled back at Layla, oblivious to any innuendo.



Layla backed up, smiling softly. “I do know one thing she got from you.”



“What’s that?” she asked, curious.



“Maddie may not get her athletic ability from her mother, but she definitely gets her beauty from you.” Layla winked, just as she had to Mrs. Jones, but with a completely different subtext.



Mrs. Walsh blushed, and watched the pretty soccer coach walk away. Clara was not gay nor had the thought ever even crossed her mind, until now. She stared at Layla’s tight ass in the soccer shorts until Maddie arrived.



Layla returned to her car and was not slightly surprised to see Mrs. Jones waiting for her, still clearly foaming at the mouth. Layla put on her fake smile. She opened, her tone confident, “Mrs. Jones, I hope this isn’t still about your daughter not starting today.”



Mrs. Jones’ face gave in slightly, not used to not getting her way with her bully tactics. She continued her aggressive approach, “I spend good money for my daughter.”



Layla’s smile faded and she spoke with authority. “Look Sammantha, it is way too fucking hot to sit out here and argue with you. If you want to continue this, get in my car now and we will continue this conversation at my house.”



Before the bitch could respond, Layla began to get in her car. Mrs. Jones, not one to lose, hesitated briefly, but got in the car of the young soccer coach.



Layla smiled, knowing she had the bitch exactly where she wanted her. Once on the road, Layla began the conversation, “Sammantha, it is ninety degrees today, and you are wearing pantyhose. That is fucking crazy.”



Sammantha glared at the foul-mouthed college girl. She hated explaining herself to such a nobody, but she explained anyway, not attempting to hide her condescending tone. “Upper class people like myself dress up at all times.”



“You can dress up and not wear man-pleasing pantyhose.”



The MILF sighed, “Not that it is any of your business, but these are not pantyhose, but rather thigh highs.”



Although Layla knew the answer, she asked anyways, “What are thigh highs?”



Answering with a dramatic sigh, “They are like pantyhose, but only go to your thigh.”



Layla ordered, “Show me.”



The dominant tone of the young girl startled Mrs. Jones, but none-the-less she complied, her attitude still dripping with contempt. She lifted up her dress and revealed the top of her thigh high stocking. “See, this is what fashionable upper class women wear.”



Layla, her tone equally full of disdain, responded, “Really, I thought those were what sluts wore.”



“Excuse me?” the rich MILF asked, aghast at being called such a name.



“Slut, whore, tramp, the terms are interchangeable,” Layla smirked.



They arrived at Layla’s dorm. Sammantha Jones’ voice went shrill, “How dare you speak to me that way?”



“What way, Sammantha, truthful?”



“I have had enough, take me back to my car,” the insulted woman demanded.



Layla laughed while she placed her hand on the MILF’s leg, taking the risk she was sure would pay off. “Look Sammantha, it is obvious you want me to fuck you.”



“What?” the MILF sputtered, shocked by the blunt accusation, yet she didn’t push the pretty blonde’s hand away.



“You heard me,” Layla clarified confidently, before adding another shocking accusation. “Maybe you are a dyke like your daughter.”



Offended, Mrs. Jones defended her daughter, “Tiffany is not gay.”



Layla laughed and slid her hand just slightly, but under the skirt of her next submissive. “Sammantha, there are three things I am very good at. The first is anything to do with soccer. The second is being able to tell when someone is a lesbian or lesbian curious, often before they know, like your daughter.”



“You have no proof she is a lesbian then,” the mother said confidently.



“No, but I can get some, I imagine,” Layla replied, even more confidently.



Attempting to be adamant, yet clearly distracted by Layla’s hand now moving slowly up her leg, “She is not gay. She is dating a college boy.”



“So,” Layla teased, “you are a married woman who is about to come into your daughter’s coaches’ house and submit to her completely.”



“What? I am not,” the pretty MILF defended just as Layla’s hand reached her very damp pussy.



“Why are you so wet, Mrs. Jones?”



The mother stammered, realizing the control was shifting, “I-I-I am not.” Layla shut up the confused woman by shoving her tongue in the MILF’s mouth, while at the same time sliding a finger inside the bitchy woman’s cunt.



Sammantha didn’t break the kiss and rather moaned into the mouth of the soccer coach. She couldn’t explain it, but she was suddenly helpless and completely subdued by the pretty college girl. She let out a sigh when Layla broke the kiss and moaned as she felt a finger pump in and out of her long-neglected pussy.



“I will only ask this once Mrs. Jones. Do you want to come to my room?”



Reacting without thought, the horny confused MILF answered, “Yes.”



Layla stopped finger-fucking the horny bitch and explained, “If you enter my dorm, you need to understand you must obey every instruction I give.”



Suddenly Sammantha was nervous, but horniness and curiosity got the better of her. “I understand.”



Layla quickly finger-fucked the MILF for a few more seconds before pulling her finger out. She sucked the juice off her fingers, “Not bad for an old bitch.” Layla saw the fury in the facial expression of the powerful mother, yet was amused when no words followed. Layla ordered, “Follow me.”



Mrs. Jones sat frozen, stunned by the shocking turn of events. She was infuriated with the treatment she had received from this social nobody, yet an overwhelming large part of her was turned on like she hadn’t been in a long time. So although the dignified reaction was to just walk away from this crazy situation, she instead got out of the car and followed her into the dorm. She kept her head down while she passed a couple of other college girls. She again briefly thought of turning and walking away, yet her body had a mind of its own, and right now it was doing the thinking.



Once in her dorm room, Layla quickly peeled off her clothes and, once naked, ordered to the sexy MILF, “Mrs. Jones, get on your knees.”



Sammantha reluctantly obeyed, oddly mesmerized by the co-ed’s perfectly tanned body.



Layla smiled at the quick obedience of her new slut and explained, “I’m going to have a shower, follow along and wait till I am done.”



Humiliation burned through the powerful woman, but she reluctantly began crawling to the young blonde’s bathroom. While Layla was in the shower, Mrs. Jones replayed the afternoon in her head and no matter how she did, she couldn’t imagine how she ended up in this bizarre predicament or why she didn’t just get up and leave. She wasn’t a lesbian. She had never even considered another woman in a sexual way before today. Yet there was something drawing her, almost against her will, to the pretty, confident co-ed. She couldn’t explain it but she felt the need to obey the blonde goddess and to submit to her. Although she hated admitting it, the dominating attitude of the co-ed had turned her on and the quick fingering had her near orgasm in only a couple of minutes. As soon as she saw her daughter’s coach naked, she desperately wanted to touch the girl’s small firm breasts and to smell the scent of her shaved pussy. Sammantha shook her head, desperate to get these naughty ridiculous thoughts out of her head. She was brought back to reality when she heard her name.



“Earth to Sammantha. What are you thinking about?” a dripping wet and naked Layla asked.



Sammantha looked up from her knees and was awestruck with the young girl’s body. Sammantha worked out for hours every day and her body couldn’t even begin to compare with the co-ed’s. Looking into her eyes and realizing she was to speak, she answered honestly, “I was trying to figure out why I was here.”



Layla chuckled, “Well, that is obvious. You want to be my slut.”



“I do not,” the MILF responded, insulted at the verbal degradation.



“You don’t?” Layla asked. “You are in my dorm room, on your knees waiting for me to get out of the shower, so I think that qualifies as you being a slut.”



The rich upper class woman stammered, “I- I-I….”



“Is slut too extreme? Would you prefer dyke?”



Sammantha gasped, “I am not gay!”



“If you say so, slut. This game is getting old. You want to please me. Say it!” Layla demanded.



The dazed and humiliated MILF was not used to being bossed around. She wanted to defend herself and put this young nobody in her place, yet the words out of her mouth expressed the opposite. “Yes, I want to please you.”



“And you are a dirty rich slut who needs to be disciplined by me,” Layla continued the verbal onslaught.



Mrs. Jones wondered when the humiliation would end as she reluctantly agreed. “Yes I am a slut who desperately needs to be disciplined.”



“So you agree you need a Mistress?” Layla asked.



The word shocked her. She stammered a reply, “Um, I don’t know.”



Layla ordered, her voice flaming hot with anger, “Get up and leave, Mrs. Jones, I don’t have time for this insubordination.”



Mrs. Jones was startled as Layla walked out of the bathroom. She got off her numb knees and followed the co-ed she had just offended. The words that came out of her mouth shocked her. “I am so sorry, Layla, I don’t know what to say.”



Now half dressed, Layla dismissed the confused older woman, “Just leave. I will have one of my loyal obedient sluts take you home.”



Mrs. Jones stood dumbfounded while Layla made a call on her cell.

“Slut, get your ass over here now,” Layla ordered and just as quickly put her phone down. She looked at the MILF she was playing like a fiddle and asked, “What are you still doing here? If it is about your daughter, tell her if she wants to start, she better start working as hard as everyone else. One of my good obedient lesbian sluts will drive you home. Go wait at the front entrance. Now get the fuck out of my dorm room.”



A stunned and speechless Mrs. Jones walked out of the dorm.



Like an obedient child, she waited to be picked up by some stranger.



Meanwhile, Layla yelled, “Come in, Melody.”



A short, brunette entered the room and immediately fell to her knees, as she had been instructed to do anytime she was in the private presence of her Mistress.



Layla smiled and handing her car keys to her sub, she ordered, “Downstairs there will be a pretty older blonde. Please drive her home. If she talks to you, feel free to explain our relationship.”



“Yes, Mistress,” the pretty slave obeyed, taking the keys and leaving the room.



Layla smiled while devilishly pondering the afternoon’s events. If she was right, and she usually was, Mrs. Jones would come to her tomorrow. Oh, how she loved the thrill of the chase!



Melody went downstairs quickly and walked up to the older woman, saying, “Follow me, ma’am.”



Mrs. Jones, now desperate to get away, quickly followed, and soon they were back on the road. Mrs. Jones gave Melody the address of the soccer field where she left her SUV, as if Melody were her personal driver, and turned her eyes to the road.



Melody, the sweetheart she was, attempted to start a conversation with the rattled stranger. “How do you know Layla?”



Sammantha glared at the unknown co-ed and responded tersely, “None of your business.”



Melody ignored the ignorant tone and said giddily, “Oh, you are one of her subs too?”



“God, no,” the snotty MILF bitch responded, “I am not some dumb lesbian bimbo.”



Melody was offended by the woman’s demeaning words and drove in silence the rest of the way. Once at the soccer field, Melody taunted the woman, “You know ma’am, if Layla decides she wants you, you will be hers.”



“That is absurd,” Mrs. Jones responded.



Melody’s smile returned, her tone dripping condescending sweetness, “If you say so, ma’ am.”



Mrs. Jones could tell the girl’s smug smile was condescending, and quickly got out of the car and slammed the door. The car drove off and a still very rattled Mrs. Jones got into her SUV. When she returned home, Tiffany asked where she had been. The still rattled mother lied to her daughter, explaining she had gone for a massage.



Tiffany asked, “What are we going to do about Coach?”



Mrs. Jones shocked her daughter and herself, “Tiffany, stop being a spoiled brat and start working hard like every other girl on the field.”



“Mother,” Tiffany began.



“No, enough Tiffany. You are eighteen years old and it is time for you to fight your own battles for yourself. Do you understand?”



Tiffany, almost in tears, never having been yelled at by her mother, nodded her head in understanding.



“Good,” Mrs. Jones responded, calming down, “you are the better goalie Tiffany, but Layla expects you to work as hard as everyone else does.” Exhausted, Mrs. Jones hugged her daughter, something else she rarely, if ever, did and went to have a much needed shower.



That night, Sammantha tossed and turned, replaying the absurd events of the day in her head over and over. Why had she obeyed the harsh instructions of the young girl? Why did her pussy get so wet while in the presence of the young co-ed? Why didn’t she stand up for herself? Lastly, why was she so fucking horny? She masturbated herself to sleep, the thought of submitting to her daughter’s soccer coach replaying over and over in her head.



……….



Next day at practice, Layla was happy to see a very different Tiffany. She didn’t complain and worked her ass off. Layla rewarded her with praise, “That’s much better, Tiffany.”



Layla also noticed that Mrs. Jones was greatly distracted throughout the practice, which made Layla smile.



When practice was done, Layla told the girls to have a good weekend, relaxing before Suicide Week: three games and three practices in six days.



The girls groaned and headed their separate ways. Layla asked Maddie, “What you doing this lovely weekend?”



Maddie, usually shy, couldn’t hide her excitement. “Two friends and I are going to the lake for a girl’s only weekend.”



“Very cool. Well, have fun,” Layla replied while thinking to herself that means her mother will be home alone. A variety of ideas floated in Layla’s head until she was distracted by the voice of Sammantha Jones.



“Layla, may I speak with you?”



Layla couldn’t believe the polite tone the overbearing mother used. Layla turned around and smiled, “What can I do for you, Mrs. Jones?”



There were only a few people still left, but Mrs. Jones spoke in a whisper, “I would like to discuss yesterday.”



“I see,” Layla responded thoughtfully.



“In private,” the MILF added, nervously.



Layla said, “My dorm is off limits today, there is some big reunion thing there.”



Mrs. Jones offered quickly, “We can go to my house.”



“I am not sure you understand what I expect from you,” Layla told her.



Mrs. Jones responded, shyly, “Yes, I do.”



“You do?” Layla asked, before leaning into the Mom’s ear, “I expect a hundred percent obedience. I expect you to be my personal slut.”



Her hot breath teased the older woman’s ear and a soft bite of the earlobe allowed an eager whimper to escape.



“Yes, I understand.”



Her tongue in the once bitchy woman’s ear, Layla added, “If I come to your house, I own you. Your mind and body are mine to do with as I please.”



The humiliated mother nodded her head in understanding.



Layla continued, “In public you will now call me Miss Layla and in private Mistress Layla. Is that understood, slut?”



Layla thought ‘slut may be pushing it’, but the defeated mother replied, “Yes, I understand Miss Layla.”



Layla smiled at the complete submission of this once high and mighty bitch. “What about Tiffany?”



“She is already on her way to San Diego with her boyfriend.”



Layla chuckled, “Soon she will accept that she is a dyke, just like her mommy.”



The new MILF sub went even redder, but didn’t say anything.



Layla asked, “And what about Mr. Jones?”



This time it was the MILF’s turn to laugh bitterly, although Layla noticed a tinge of hurt in it. “He is in France till the end of the month.”



“So we have the whole house to ourselves all weekend?” the dominant coach queried.



“Yes, Miss Layla, except for the maid,” the soccer mommy confirmed.



“Hmmmm,” Layla mumbled deep in thought. “All right, I need to go home and pick up a few things for your training.”



Mrs. Jones’ face flinched just a tad at the word ‘training’ and waited further instruction, like a good sub should.



Layla got Mrs. Jones’ address and whispered one last time in her ear, “By the end of the weekend, you will be a very different woman.” She bit the older woman’s ear hard and turned and walked away.



Mrs. Jones stood paralyzed until after her new Mistress had disappeared completely. As she slowly made her way to her SUV, she wondered what she had just got herself into. While her brain contemplated the long term consequences, her pussy juice began to leak through her thin thong.



…………



Layla arrived a couple of hours later at the mommy-bitch-turned-obedient sub’s house with a duffle bag of toys and other essentials. She knocked on the door and was greeted by a black maid.



Layla asked, “What is your name?”



The older black woman, probably on her 40′s, responded, “Tamara, ma’am.”



Layla entered the mansion and was briefly awe-struck by the massive estate. She asked, “Does Mrs. Jones treat you well?”



Her facial expression betrayed her words, “Yes, she is a good boss to work for.”



Layla didn’t push it yet and asked politely, “Tamara, could you please tell Mrs. Jones that Layla has arrived?”



“Yes, ma’am,” the chubby black maid responded politely.



Layla surveyed the room while she waited. After a couple of minutes of waiting, Mrs. Jones arrived. “Welcome, Miss Layla.”



Layla smiled, “I think your personal residence counts as alone.”



Mrs. Jones looked at Tamara, “You are dismissed, Tamara.”



“Thank you, ma’am,” Tamara replied gratefully.



Layla waited patiently, allowing her new sub this last minute of public propriety. Once Tamara had left the room, Mrs. Jones looked nervously to the confident co-ed, “Welcome Mistress Layla.”



“This is a very impressive home, slut.”



“Thank you, Mistress Layla.”



Having had enough of the pleasantries, Layla ordered, “Take off your dress, my mommy slut.”



A small wince escaped the proud woman, but she obeyed the young woman’s order.



Layla walked over to the MILF or MIPT (Mommy I Plan to Train) and inspected her body. “For an older bitch, you have kept in amazing shape.”



“Thank you, Mistress Layla,” the half naked mother of one shivered.



“Let’s see those tits, mommy dyke,” the soccer coach ordered.



Shaking slightly, the rich mother unbuckled her bra and released her large firm breasts. She now stood in front of this pretty soccer coach in only her nude stockings, thong panties and four inch heels.



Layla pinched the woman’s nipples. “Why aren’t they hard, slut?”



Sammantha whimpered and answered clearly embarrassed, “They never get erect.”



“Really?” Layla asked, pinching harder. “Never?”



The MILF winched from the sharp pain. “Not since I had the implants, Mistress Layla.”



Layla moved around behind the older woman and stunned the woman with a sharp hard slap on her naked ass, the thong not covering any of the woman’s still impressive rear. “Fuck mommy-cunt, how many hours a day do you work out to keep this body in shape?”



“Three, give or take, Mistress Layla,” the humiliated redhead responded, tears now rolling down her face.



“Does your husband fuck you in the ass?”



“Yes, on occasion, Mistress Layla.”



“Do you like a nice hard cock in your ass?”



“Only when I am drunk, Mistress Layla.”



“Take off your thong, mommy whore,” Layla instructed.



Sammantha took off the thin piece of fabric, now standing in only her thigh highs and heels.



Layla inspected her new sub’s pussy. The cunt was completely hairless and her lips had a sweet shine to them. “Your pussy seems wet, mommy tramp. Why is that?”



“I don’t know, Mistress Layla,” Sammantha replied.



“Really? You have no clue?” Layla questioned.



“I can’t explain it, Mistress Layla, I wish I could.”



“You are so adorable in your complete upper class dignity,” Layla mockingly accused. “Take off my shoes for me, slut.” Layla lifted her right foot up and allowed the rich woman to be the maid for once. The woman’s hand shook slightly. Once the shoe was off, Layla lifted her left foot and the MILF repeated the order. The humiliation continued as Layla insisted she also remove her sweaty socks. The MILF complied. Layla, smiling deviously, commanded, “Clean my feet with your mouth.”



Sammantha Jones, one of the most powerful women in the city, looked up at the college co-ed with a look of disgust. Layla could see the woman on her knees contemplating this order. Layla’s smile did not falter, and soon Sammantha broke eye contact and took Layla’s toe in her mouth.



Mrs. Jones tasted the salty sweat of the girl’s foot that had presumably been in running shoes all day. The scent was disgusting and the taste awful, but she obeyed the nasty and humiliating task. Used to being in control, she knew exactly what the co-ed was doing to her. She was making it very clear who was in charge and seeing just how far the MILF would fall. Once done with the first foot, Mrs. Jones heard the cocky voice of the co-ed, “What about the soles of my feet, slut?” Anger bubbled inside the rich upper class woman, yet she obeyed the utterly humiliating task.



After both feet had been adequately cleaned to the liking of the young Mistress, she ordered, “Let’s go to your bedroom. I want to fuck my new whore in her own bed.”



The new submissive slave began to get off her already sore knees.



“Not so fast, slut. Lead the way. But do so on all fours.”



The MILF dropped back to her knees, her face as red as a burning fire. She began the lengthy crawl to her bedroom.



Layla grabbed her duffle bag of goodies and followed her new sub. Her grin seemed permanently burned to her face. She had dominated many women over the years, most with ease, but this one was already becoming her favourite because of her uppity I-am-better-than-you attitude.



Sammantha was mortified at her treatment by the pretty co-ed and even more mortified by the fact that she not only allowed it to happen, but couldn’t resist. Her knees were killing her and crawling like a dog in her own home was humiliating. Once she reached her room, she stopped. She didn’t know why, but she did. She soon heard the voice of her Mistress complimenting her, “Good slut, you are a fast learner.”



Layla walked to the king-sized bed and undressed. Soon she was completely naked. On all fours, Sammantha was in awe of the perfect body of her Mistress. Although the soccer coaches’ breasts were small, they worked with the rest of her perfect body. Layla asked, “Have you ever eaten pussy before?”



“No, Mistress.”



“Yet, you so eagerly submitted to me. Curious,” the blonde beauty pondered.



The older redhead pondered it as well. It made no sense. Yet, there she was on all fours, in her own house, eager to do just that. Eat her first pussy.



“Crawl to me.”



The MILF did as she was told, her pussy leaking slightly. Once she reached Layla, she looked directly up and was inches away from the girl’s pussy. The girl’s scent already lingered in the air. Layla asked, “Do you want to eat mine?”



“Yes.”



“Why?”



“I don’t know.”



“You are going to have to do better than that. My pussy is a delicacy and needs to be treated as such. A rich bitch like you probably pays a good deal of money for a special delicacy. So I will ask again, cunt. Why do you want to eat my delicacy?”



The frustrated, confused and horny mom really had no idea, but she just said what she was feeling. “I can’t explain it. I have never found another woman attractive, usually only a threat. I have never liked being told what to do, but I can’t resist anything you say. There is something about you that I am drawn to. All I want to do is please you.”



Layla smiled, opened her legs a bit, and said, “Please away.”



The inexperienced MILF moved closer and extended her tongue. Other than tasting her own juices off her fingers, or more times than not off her husband’s cock, she had never tasted another pussy. Much to her surprise, her Mistress’ pussy had a very pleasant taste: sweet and tangy. The more she lapped at the appetizing juice, the more she wanted it. She wanted to bury her face deep into the young girl’s delicious pussy, but could not from the awkward position of her kneeling and the co-ed standing.



Layla, on the other hand, purposely chose this awkward and power position. It was incredibly hard to come this way and watching a rookie pussy eater attempt to please in such a position was always entertaining. Layla allowed the new MILF slut to lick her pussy for ten minutes in complete silence other than the odd moan, before she asked, “So, do you like being my little lesbian slut?”



The mother couldn’t believe her response, “Yes, Mistress, I love being your lesbian slut.”



Layla moved onto the older woman’s bed and spread her legs. “Get your ass up here and finish what you started.”



The MILF slut obeyed and quickly her head was buried between the lovely soccer coach’s legs. Now in a much more comfortable position, Sammantha could get much deeper with her tongue. She opened up her Mistress’s pussy lips with her tongue, trying to get deep into her cunt. The juices continued to flow slowly out of the young girl’s pussy and Sammantha, determined to get the young co-ed off, slid a finger inside the girl’s pussy.



Layla screamed the instant her pussy was penetrated, “Oh yes, my slut, finger fuck your Mistress. Make me come.”



Mrs. Jones frantically pumped the girl’s pussy with her finger while at the same time licking the young girl’s clit. She really had no idea what she was doing, but decided to focus on the clit, because that was what worked when her husband was going down on her. It seemed to be working, as the co-ed’s moans began to get louder and more constant.



“Yes, keep fucking me, slut. You will make a good addition to my little harem of whores. Fuck, fuck, finger-fuck me deeper, deeper, yessssssss.”



Sammantha felt the girl’s legs tense up and seconds later felt the gush of cum she had eagerly been craving ever since she first tasted the beautiful pussy. She eagerly lapped and lapped, attempting to get as much of the girl’s cum as she could. She didn’t stop until instructed.



“Stop slut,” Layla ordered, “I need a few seconds to recover.”



Sammantha laid subserviently, between her Mistress’s legs, waiting for further instructions, her face dripping with cum. Seconds ticked into minutes before the young Mistress spoke. “Get on the bed on your back, slut.”



“Yes, Mistress,” the MILF obeyed, hoping to get some much needed satisfaction. The co-ed went back to her bag again and quickly returned with it.



Layla grabbed the MILF’s arms and like a veteran cop had her new slave handcuffed to the bed in less than ten seconds. The look of fear in the MILF’s eyes was priceless for Layla. Layla reached in her bag of tricks and pulled out a small green vibrator. She turned it on low and slipped it inside the MILF’s already very damp cunt. The new slut let out a loud moan. Layla smiled while she continued the light bondage by tying her new slut’s legs together, pushing the toy completely inside the horny mommy. Once done, Layla leaned in and kissed her pretty redhead slut. The slut kissed back, already writhing from the toy doing her thing inside her. Layla broke the kiss and announced, “I’ll be back in an hour or two. Don’t you be going anywhere.”



The bound MILF begged, “Please don’t leave me like this. Where are you going?”



“Out,” Layla shrugged and left the slut bound and with a toy lodged inside her.



The MILF called out for Layla, but eventually quit. The buzzing down below was really getting her horny, a constant buzz, yet not enough to get her off. Resigned to her fate, she tried to move around so she could make herself come. Unfortunately, no matter how she moved, she couldn’t get to the next level. Frustration built inside her.



Meanwhile, Layla had not actually left but was in Tiffany’s room snooping. Layla searched for a diary, but there was none to find. She went onto the young girl’s computer and chuckled when it had no password protection. The first thing she did was search the sites she had recently been on. She was a Yahoo junkie it seemed. She also recently visited a site on soccer goaltending. Going back a few days Layla found what she was looking for. One site she was regularly on was called Literotica. As Layla continued scavenging through the different stories the young redhead goalie had recently read, she smiled. As expected, the majority of the vast majority of the stories were lesbian stories: Bedding the Babysitter, Training Teacher, Soccer Moms, and Presidential Powers. She seemed to like submissive characters and Layla smiled knowing that she would be an easy prey if she wanted…and she wanted. Layla went downstairs and got herself a glass of wine. She flipped on the TV and turned to a soccer match between the Americans and Germans. It was still scoreless with ten minutes left. Layla watched the end of the match that ended in a draw. She hated that. In her mind, there would be no shootouts, just straight overtime until someone scored. It might take hours, but that is what happens in hockey and she sure couldn’t see why a soccer game couldn’t be the same. Endurance and fitness were the two keys to success and soccer and it ticked her off when fate would decide the outcome after a lengthy game. She shut off the TV, went to the fridge and grabbed an impressively thick and long cucumber, some whipped cream, and a bottle of wine. She grabbed a couple of wine glasses and made her way back to her bound submissive mommy.

“That’s her. Check it out. Wow,” whispered Billy Sherman’s buddy. They were at the town bar that they had been going to since before they were legally allowed to drink. And there, at the end of the long bar, not far from the door, sat Sue Lockhart, the middle school gym teacher.



“I dare you to go talk to her. I dare you to have a drink with ‘Lesbo Lockhart’. What do you say? Are you afraid of the ‘Dragon Dyke’?” he challenged.



Billy looked down the bar at the middle-aged woman. She was alone, nursing a drink, half-watching the TV above the bar. He thought she looked kind of plain and maybe a little sad. He really didn’t feel like making her the object of a stupid dare. At 22, wasn’t he beyond that sort of thing?



“Forget it. Let’s just leave her alone. OK? She looks like she doesn’t need the aggravation,” Billy replied.



“Aggravation? You’re just afraid she’ll bite your dick off! Here’s five bucks. It won’t even cost you anything. I dare you.” Billy’s drinking buddy slid a five dollar bill to him and got up to stand by the pool table where he would have a clear view if Billy should take his dare.



Billy sighed. He didn’t want to annoy a woman who had never done anything to him. But he was bored. Maybe he would do it. As he thought about what he would say to her, he actually began to think of things he wanted to know that she could tell him. Not crazy stuff, but about what she thought of the town and the hundreds of kids she had taught and seen grown up. Of course he couldn’t ask about the rumors of her being a lesbian. Rumors? Hadn’t he and his buddies seen her at it?



It was a year or so before. Billy and two of his buddies had gone out to the parking lot to smoke a joint. The bar had the use of a large parking garage of the office building next door. From the smoke-filled car, Billy and his friends had spied some movement in a little sports car a row in front of them. Under the garage lights they had discerned Miss Lockhart and a much younger woman locked in an embrace in the little car. They had opened mouths pressed tightly together and were going at it pretty hot and heavy. He couldn’t see their hands, but when Miss Lockhart finally got out, she had to tuck her blouse back into her neat slacks.



No, Billy couldn’t ask about that. The guys had thought the woman she was with looked like the high school’s Homecoming Queen from several years back, but they couldn’t be sure. Can you imagine if Miss Lockhart was doing it with one of her old students? That was hot.



Before he knew exactly what he was going to say, Billy found himself trying to stroll nonchalantly toward the lone woman. He sat down next to her. Miss Lockhart looked up, wondering what this young man wanted.



“Yes?” she asked. Billy could hear tried irritation in her voice and immediately regretted this.



“Hi, Miss Lockhart. I’m Bill Sherman. Can I buy you a drink?” Billy tried to sound relaxed and grown up.



Sue Lockhart chuckled to herself.



“Hi, Bill. It’s Sue. And yes you may buy me a drink. But I’ve got to go after that, OK?”



Sue waved to the bartender. Billy raised his empty beer mug to indicate that he needed another. He paid for the drinks.



“So, Bill, what do you do?” Sue asked.



“Not much. That is, I’m looking for a job. I graduated from State in May. Not many jobs around right now, so I’m doing what I can and enjoying the summer. I know what you do.”



“Oh, did I teach you?” she asked.



“Yeah. It was a few years ago. I’m not surprised that you don’t remember,” Bill was crushed that she didn’t remember him. He had hoped to talk about that.



“Bill, why did you want to buy me a drink? I saw you with your friend. If this is a bet, or a dare, let’s just call it a night, ok?”



She sees right through me, Bill thought. What now? If all else fails, maybe honesty would work.



“Miss Lockhart, I mean Sue, you are a very good-looking lady,” he started. That much was true. Sue was about 5’7″ with not an ounce of fat on her toned frame. Years of teaching gym had left her body unchanged from her days as a three-sport star in high school and college. “And I was hoping…”



“Hoping what, Bill?” Sue tried to drag it out of him. “What were you hoping?”



“Well, I’d like to get to know you,” Bill finally managed.



“What do you want to know, Bill? Are you curious about what they say?” Sue challenged.



Bill was trapped now. She had really seen through him. There had been talk about the lady gym teacher for years in the small town. Was she or wasn’t she gay? He had seen her kissing a woman, but maybe there was some other explanation. There was no escaping this.



“Are you gay?” Bill whispered.



“Well, I admire you actually having the guts to ask,” Sue said evenly. “Yes, I am gay, Bill. That should save us a lot of time tonight. Shouldn’t it? If you want to go back and report to your friend, go right ahead.”



“No, I don’t want to go. I want to talk to you.” Bill was taken by Sue’s frankness and unapologetic air. He didn’t want her to think he was a creep. “What’s it like, being a lesbian in this town?”



“Well, Bill, it’s not a lot of fun. I try to be very discrete because my job is dependent on the school board’s ongoing approval of how I conduct myself. And they aren’t the most open-minded bunch. This isn’t New York. There are no gay bars or clubs where I could openly approach other women. So, I try to stay under the radar.”



“Are there many others in town?” Bill was surprised and excited to be having this conversation but was wrapped up in it now.



“Other lesbians? Sure. You might be surprised. Shocked even. Yes, even a little town like this has lesbians. I’ve heard people talk about the couple down by the country club. They are a sweet old pair. And there are a few single gals around. And Bill, there are a number of married ladies in town, mothers and grandmothers, who…let’s say they dabble a bit, shall we?” She was half-trying to shock the younger man, but it felt good to talk openly, if quietly about the local scene.



“And speaking of dabblers, every year there are quite a few younger ladies who come back from college on break who have discovered a little something about themselves. I try not to get involved with too many of them because they generally aren’t gay. They just enjoy something different for a little while and then go off and get married.” Sue sighed, remembering.



“Wow,” Bill heard himself say.



Sue smiled at his amazement. She was mostly done with her drink. She reached for her keys.



“Don’t go, Sue. Please. I want to talk more,” Bill said earnestly.



Sue felt a twinge. She had assumed she would shock the young man and he would go back to his friend and spread some more gossip. She hadn’t counted on him caring.



“Bill, I’m tired. I want to go home. But if you want to talk a little more, you can come back to my place for a drink or a coffee and then we’ll call it a night, OK?” she offered.



Bill’s friend was shocked to see his buddy and ‘Lesbo Lockhart’ leave the bar together. They weren’t exactly arm-in-arm, but he watched them go to their respective cars and drive off, Bill following close behind the older woman.



At Sue’s small, tidy apartment, Bill became bolder. He had begun to really like Sue’s openness and willingness to share about her life and lifestyle. Besides which, Bill could not help noticing Sue’s toned, sexy body and generally youthful appearance. Her arms and legs were shapely and muscular, but far from manly. As she made him a cup of coffee he watched her tight ass through her pants. Sue excused herself to change into a little shirt and sleep pants. It wasn’t quite a belly shirt, but Bill enjoyed the glimpses of her flat, tight abs. She had small, firm breasts that Bill glimpsed through the nearly sheer top. Miss Lockhart was a hottie. He could see how she would attract every lesbian in town. The subject turned to sex.



Sue feigned shock at Bill’s question about what women did together. “Bill, come on. You’ve been on the internet. I know you’ve seen videos. I have a toy box that I keep for when I have a lady here. We use vibrators and dildoes and massage oil. Do you need me to draw you a picture?”



They laughed together. Sue liked Bill. And Bill was attracted to his former teacher, although he knew he was out-of-bounds for her. Or was he?



“What about men, Sue? As attractive as you are, they must hit on you all the time.”



“Well, thank you, Bill. But most men in town have heard I am the ‘town dyke’ and stay away. I guess the short hair and no skirts or ribbons keeps them away. But some sometimes guys hit on me. And sometimes I say yes.”



“Really?” Bill swallowed audibly. “That is, I didn’t know you…”



“Went both ways? Bill, I prefer women. I always have. But I don’t hate men. And frankly, while making love to a woman is my primary desire, there are some things that I can’t get from a woman. As good as her fingers or mouth may be, sometimes I need to feel someone inside me. A toy is not the same as a warm, hard cock.” Sue heard herself use the word. “Oops, did I say too much?”



“Oh, no, Sue. I find it…” Bill stammered. “I can see where you would want what you want. Everybody does.”



Sue looked him in the eye. “What do you want, Bill?”



Bill moved to her and kissed her. Sue responded by kissing him back much more deeply. Bill was emboldened. He ran his hand up her body under the small shirt. Her breasts were small, but very firm. Her nipples were like tiny spikes. He rubbed his palm against each one, and then began to pull at her loose sleep pants. She raised her hips and pushed them off. His hands moved to her hips and one hand cupped her mound. A finger pushed inside her. Sue moaned. Bill was not being gentle, but Sue was not complaining. She raked her nails down his back over his shirt. He quickly pulled it off. Sue grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bedroom. She knelt in front of him to undo his pants and push down his underwear. She took his cock in her hand and stroked it, looking up at him. Her mouth attacked it. Bill held her head in his hands and pushed it into his crotch. She rubbed her face on his hardening cock and then took it into her mouth. She loved the feel of it growing stiffer. It lengthened to the point where she had to back off to keep from gagging. Her hand stroked the stiff rod.



Bill lay back on the bed and let her suck his cock. She cupped his balls and pumped the shaft. She licked it and slobbered on it to lube the stroking. Bill had never seen a woman so into it. He reached down to touch Sue and tried to swing around to sixty-nine with her. She was having none of it. She sucked his cock and seemed to savor its feeling, its warmth, and its taste. She moaned as she sucked it and Bill could feel the vibrations. He felt his balls tighten. His passion was rising to match hers.



Finally, he could take no more and he pushed her back roughly. He grabbed her hips and held her down, positioning himself between her legs. He took his cock in one hand and rubbed his cockhead against her warm slit. He found the opening and pushed in with a powerful thrust. Sue screamed in animal delight. She held the younger man tightly against her. She bucked her hips up to meet his thrusts. She twisted and ground her pelvis into his. She wanted to feel his hard cock rubbing every part of her hot, wet pussy. Bill was amazed by the aggressive way this woman fucked back at him. It was so unlike the passive younger women he had been with before. They were always telling him to slow down and to be gentler. This woman was hungry for all he could give her as hard as he could give it.



He tightened his muscles to fight back a too-early climax. As he did, he felt Sue spasm and erupt on his cock. She was coming and all he could do was hold on and maintain the thrusting rhythm that had brought on this eruption of pleasure. She twitched and jerked and made sounds like that were alternately sweet coos and loud, almost painful yelps. Her hands were all over his body, stroking his chest, then pounding at it. Her nails scratched his back up and down. Her hands gripped and squeezed his ass tightly. She lost track of the number of times she came. It was all one long orgasm for Sue.



Finally, her moans subsided and she languidly rolled over.



“You know what I need now?” she asked, not waiting for his answer. She raised her hips and pulled apart her cheeks, inviting his violation.



Bill knew what she wanted and was not afraid to oblige, although he was hardly a veteran of anal sex. He spat on his hand, rubbed his cockhead and her asshole, but Sue stopped him. She reached into the nightstand drawer and retrieved a bottle of lube. Bill glanced at the array of dildoes and vibrators in the drawer, but quickly opened the bottle, lubed his cock and her hole and positioned his mushroom head against the tight, pulsating circle of muscle. He pressed steadily against it and it yielded to the force. Sue grunted between gritted teeth. It was a grunt of pain, but she did not want him to stop. She wriggled and undulated her hips and Bill thrust in more deeply.



He felt the heat of her insides and the tight ring of her sphincter gripping his cock. He pumped in and out more deliberately than he had her pussy. He did not want to rip her apart. Besides, the realization of what he was doing and the sensations he was feeling was rapidly bringing him to the point of no return.



“Oh, yes. Oh, fuck my ass hard. Give it all to me, Billy,” she almost shrieked at him. She reached down between his legs and cupped his heavy balls. She squeezed them firmly.



Bill looked at the reflection in the mirror across the room of the lithe woman bend over, coupled to him. Her athletic body seemed to ripple with energy. Her head tossed up and down the short hair glistening in the low light. Sue Lockhart was a gorgeous fucking woman and he was banging her tight asshole. It was too much. He felt an eruption of his own. His balls exploded and he gave one final thrust. He was balls deep in the older woman and she twitched and spasmed with her ultimate climax. They groaned as one and collapsed on the bed.



After a long pause to recover, the two lay together. Before Bill could ask for another date, Sue told him that she might call him again, when she needed another change of pace. Later, as Bill drove home, he wondered if she would call him. The sex had been amazing, but he knew Sue was really just using him. It wasn’t a romance, but it was better than anything he had ever felt before. Now he needed a story to tell his drinking buddies.

Six months before my 40th birthday I had a bit of a mid-life crisis. I don’t know why, as I’m normally a very positive person; married with two young teenage sons and a good job as an Administrator in a large hospital. With hindsight I guess I was bored and worried that my life was slipping away from me but that’s no excuse for my behaviour.



In early May I was invited to a birthday party in the centre of town for one of the young nurses. I would normally have made my excuses and not gone but this time I accepted. As we live in the countryside, about 17 miles from town hubby I volunteered to drop me off and pick me up; although I knew he wouldn’t be happy with staying sober enough to collect me at midnight.



When I arrived in town and saw what the others were wearing I felt old and dowdy in my glasses, smart trousers, blouse and cardigan when everyone else was in skirts or dresses and looked exciting and sexy compared to me. I still had a good night, drinking, dancing and even laughing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed as much and the evening flew by.



I was correct about hubby’s mood when he collected me; he had a face like a smacked arse. When we got home I wanted sex; but he was already asleep when I came out of the bathroom, so as usual I had to make to with a silent diddle under the covers.



The party was a big topic of conversation the following week at work and I was invited out again with a bunch of co-workers who regularly hit the Town on a Friday night but I politely refused and regretted it, when Friday came and hubby was fast asleep, pissed on cheap lager at 10pm. I left him snoring and went to bed where I tearfully pledged that I would go out with the girls the following week.



When I told my story the following Monday Kim, one of the staff-nurses offered her spare room for me to stay in if hubby wouldn’t pick me up. Still angry, I agreed. Of course Hubby wasn’t happy; but he reluctantly agreed when I said I would drive there myself and leave the car over night and drive home in the morning, without having to bother him.



Friday came around quickly enough and I excitedly drove to Kim’s house on the other side of town. I found the house easily enough and was pleasantly surprised when her rather handsome husband answered the door with a glass of wine in his hand for me. He ushered me upstairs where Kim was still getting dressed. Her bedroom door was wide open as I walked along the landing. Kim was sitting in front of a large mirror tonging her hair as I entered her boudoir. We chatted as she finished her hair and applied the finishing touches to her make up.



By the time it came to choose her dress her husband had joined us with the wine bottle. Kim was just over 5 feet tall and had curves in all the right places, her husband on the other hand was about 6 feet tall, with shoulder length wavy hair and a chiselled face. He had the look of a Rock star, especially as he wore very tight jeans and cowboy boots. He actually owned a coffee bar in a local shopping centre and played in a local band every couple of weeks. If he hadn’t been my friend’s husband he probably looked a bit pervy. It was his suggestion that she should wear a short red strapless one, but it meant she couldn’t wear a bra with it. Without a care in the world Kim dropped her silk kimono on the floor and walked past me to choose some panties. I tried not to stare; but she looked gorgeous and my eyes bulged when I realised that she was completely shaven down below. Being much younger than me Kim’s body hadn’t yet started to sag and her boobs were still quite firm for a woman with a child and her stomach was ironing-board flat. She selected a tiny white g-string and surprised me by pulling on a pair of tan hold-up stockings too.



“Isn’t the dress a bit short for stockings?” I asked as Ian topped up my wine. I was wearing a nice dress too, but it was a lot more demure and in keeping with my age and status.



“No, of course not.” Kim laughed and deliberately bent over showing off her stocking tops and an inch of milky white thigh, much to her husband’s amusement.



I finished my drink and on the taxi ride into town we chatted and I told her how sexy she looked and how my husband would be mortified if I dressed like her.



“He doesn’t have to know.” She replied with a wink, “Not if you got dressed at our house.”



I kept that thought in the back of my mind as we had another great night. The crowd I was with was smaller and slightly different from the previous week and a lot younger and rowdier. I knew a couple of girls from the hospital and was pleased that they were happy for me to join them. We went to pretty much the same bars and this time I recognised a few faces from the previous visit but still struggled to speak to any guys. One chap amused me by saying I looked like the TV Personality Carol Vordeman. Apart from having long legs and big boobs, I couldn’t see it, but a couple of the girls agreed when I told them. I felt by far the oldest person there, but for some bizarre reason still I managed to attract the attention of a couple of very young guys who wanted to dance with me and one even offered a drink, which I refused. Kim was on form, flashing her stocking tops at every opportunity and even sloppily kissing a couple of guys late in the evening; which shocked me.



We were both pretty drunk on the taxi ride home and Kim’s dress rose up her thighs quite quickly giving me and the driver a good look at her stocking tops and occasionally her panties, plus when she bent forward to pick up her bag I couldn’t help looking at her boobs and pretty pink nipples; which made me blush.



Ian was waiting up when we arrived at their house and Kim greeted him with a big kiss and drunkenly told him, ‘take me to bed and fuck the arse off me!’ Ian smiled and guided her upstairs. As I unsteadily made my way along the dark landing after going to the bathroom I heard the happy couple giggling as Kim got undressed and hummed the tune ‘the stripper.’



My head was spinning as I tried to get to sleep in the room next to theirs. Then I heard Kim’s voice, “Mmmmmmmmmm….hello Mr. Big. What should lickle Kim do to make you happy?”



Oh my God! I could hear them!



“Mmmmmmmmmm….you sure do taste nice.” I heard her giggle, “And which hole would you like to go into tonight?” Her voice was now very high and school girlish. I could then hear Ian panting and muttering for the next few minutes as I presumed my friend was gobbling his cock. By this time my hand was between my legs and my fingers diddling my clitty.



I frantically rubbed and fingered for the next 15 minutes as Kim and Ian noisily fucked like rabbits, making myself cum three times in the process. I woke the following morning with a stotting headache and when I scratched an itch on my nose I could still smell my stinky fingers.



As I tenderly made my way to the bathroom I could hear laughter and activity from downstairs as Ian and their 7 year old son Simon had breakfast and watched TV. Ten minutes later I was sitting drying my hair with only a towel wrapped around me when Ian knocked on the door and walked straight in with a cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich. I automatically clutched the towel to my chest to protect my modesty as he greeted me but it was only as he left that I realised the bottom of the towel was open and he must have seen my pubes. I blushed madly as I put my clean knickers and bra on; thinking that he must think I was some kind of tart flashing my bits like that. But it really was an accident.



Nothing was said when I took my cup and plate back to the kitchen but I swear Ian winked as I got in my car to return home. I had hardly been in the house 10 minutes when hubby took the boys to rugby practice without a word about my evening out.



Hubby gave in without an argument to my request for a Friday night out with the girls and another stop over at Kim’s house. I sort of guessed he thought I was too old and dull to get up to any mischief while he sat at home wanking his cock to a frazzle looking at porn on the computer. He thought I didn’t know, but he never cleaned out the memory so I knew exactly which sites he was looking at and for how long.



The next few weeks followed the same pattern with Kim wearing some pretty sexy and very revealing clothing then flirting outrageously with an assortment of young men. At least twice she disappeared from view for 15 or 20 minutes and came back ‘glowing’ giving me the impression that she had been up to no good.



I also began smuggling ever more cleavage revealing outfits and skirts to get changed into. At first I would disappear into the spare bedroom to dress, but as they appeared to have some kind of ‘open door’ policy Ian would barge in anyway with more wine, and catch me in various stages of undress; gradually making me get quite excited at the prospect of him seeing me in my undies. Eventually I would dress in Kim’s bedroom with Ian nonchalantly commenting on our clothes and especially our underwear!



It didn’t take me long to fit in with the ‘gang;’ and to some degree become more comfortable with the ever growing attention of my own admirers; some of whom were young enough to be my son. After a couple of months I was revelling in the new found male attention and finding it increasingly difficult not to take their advances more seriously as I let a couple kiss me or ‘get a tache on’ as the younger girls called it.



When we got back to her house Kim and Ian always had very noisy sex and I soon realised that it was possibly even for my benefit, so I started taking a Rampant Rabbit and fucked myself in time to the happy couple in masturbatory fuelled nights. I would also stay for an extra hour or so and have breakfast in my short dressing gown, usually while Kim was still in bed. Ian didn’t say anything but would smile as he stole glimpses of my boobs and legs. I felt deliciously naughty, especially when I saw a bulge in his shorts. But that’s all that was ever going to happen between us; wasn’t it?



The ‘gang’ were a floating mix of nurses and staff from the hospital and a few assorted friends. Some weeks there could be nearly 20 in the group and other weeks only 6 depending on shifts and family commitments. Some of these girls, including Kim were absolutely wild and it took a very brave young lion to approach us; especially later in the evening when the heavy drinking was taking effect. By now I had realised that they were a very hedonistic crowd who lived for Friday night when ‘anything goes.’ I was still surprised at how much the normally reserved young nurses could drink, but I matched them glass for glass and their language could best be described as ‘industrial’ which I soon found to be very liberating when I started to swear like a trooper too. Without anyone saying anything I was also aware that a few girls took a pill or two and some openly snorted coke in the ladies room.



About a month before my 40th birthday I chose to wear a shorter than usual black skirt with some very fine 7 denier black tights; I still have good legs for a woman my age and several of my new admirers took great delight in telling me what a ‘great arse’ I have too, so I had started dressing accordingly. To complement it I wore a cream blouse with black lace around the low cut neck and cuffs. As it was quite see-thru I wore a spaghetti strap vest underneath.



While Kim was getting dressed Ian commented on how nice I looked and ‘that it was a pity I was wearing a vest.’ I blushed and looked away as Kim punched him in the arm for embarrassing me. She then turned to me and said; “He’s right though, you would look much sexier without it.”



“I’m not sure.” I mumbled as I gulped down a mouthful of wine. Even though I was wearing a new sexy lace bra underneath I wasn’t convinced that I was confident enough to go out showing the sexy bra and my chest off. “I’m a bit old for that sort of thing.” I mumbled again.



“Rubbish!” Ian laughed; “you are as hot as any of Kim’s friends….in fact, hotter than most.”



“Ian!” Kim chided her husband and punched his arm again as I blushed. “Look, Cathy, take it off and I’ll give you my honest opinion.”



I looked at Ian who made no attempt to leave the doorway as I took my blouse and vest off. I could see them smiling to each other as I put the blouse back on.



“Fucking Hell, Cath!” Ian laughed and raised his glass in salute, “you look as hot as fuck.”



Kim turned to face me as she pulled a tight white wool dress over her head.



“Wow.” She grinned, “He’s right, you do look hot.” It was thus decided so that’s how I would go out.



It was a smallish group this week with a couple of nurses that had been working joining us later on. After a couple of strong drinks I was soon very relaxed and my see thru blouse and large boobs certainly attracted a lot of male attention and I loved it. By the time we arrived at the club I’d actually ‘tached’ three guys and let a couple buy me a drink. One lad followed me around like a puppy in one bar until I took pity on him and let him kiss me; as he was quite young, gorgeous and very muscular, I don’t know what I saw in him! It was a very powerful, erotic kiss….much sexier than usual, as our tongues twisted and twirled. I was giggling like a schoolgirl when I rejoined my friends.



Later in the evening when we were inside the club the girls went wild; dancing on the tables and openly cavorting with a wild variety of men; Kim included. I danced with a couple, and one young bodybuilder held me tight on the dance floor and squeezed my arse before running his hand up my skirt as he rubbed his face across my boobs……I did nothing to stop him because……I loved it!



I was very drunk at this stage but I still knew what he really wanted when he took me outside for a smoke. After weeks of struggling not to give in to temptation this sun tanned young lothario had me weak at the knees and I knew it was going to be a struggle to keep my knickers up.



As I puffed on my ciggy he kept licking my neck and ears and stroking my arse, telling me ‘how sexy’ I was and he had ‘such a hard on just for me’ and ‘how much he’d always wanted to fuck a real MILF.’ I was flattered by his candour and my chest was heaving as I stubbed out my cigarette and he took my wrist before pulling me into some shadows behind the industrial bins. It stunk but I was captivated as he kissed me again and stroked my boobs. I couldn’t stop myself and began grinding against his crotch. I didn’t even know his name as he began telling me how desperate he was to fuck me with his big cock.



“No, no.” I mumbled as his hand slid up my skirt. “I can’t; I’m married.” I kept telling him as I kept my legs tightly closed. “No, please stop that…..I’m married.” His hands were like an octopus as he lifted my skirt with one and tried to lift my blouse with the other.



“I don’t give a flying fuck!” He softly growled as he quickly unbuckled his jeans, “I bet his fucking cock is nowhere near as big as this fucking baby maker!” He then took my hand and placed it on his hot cock.



“Bloody Hell!” I panted as I gripped it. “It’s fucking massive!” I gasped as my fingers wrapped around the girth, “No, I really can’t…..I’m on my period.” I lied.



“Well, you’re not fucking leaving me like this.” He panted. “You better do something fucking quickly or I’ll rip your knickers off and stuff it up your fucking arse.”



Scared at the veiled threat and horny as hell I began wanking him properly. It really did feel enormous in my hand; and it was incredibly sexy tugging on a young strangers cock while I could hear voices only a few yards away.



“Fuck that’s good.” He panted as he eventually pulled my tits out of the bra and began mauling them and sucking my nipples while I tugged on his cock and my hand became a blur. It must have been 20 years since I’d last done anything like this and I felt really naughty as I cupped his wrinkled ball bag and gave it a little squeeze the returned to furiously stroking his cock between my fingers. The lad suddenly stood up straight and threw his head back as he grunted and a string of cum landed on my skirt followed by a second and a third as I kept wanking him. My heart was thundering and my legs weak as he began pulling his jeans up.



“Thanks Missus.” He grinned as he tucked his shirt in, “I knew you’d fucking come through in the end.” With that he turned and left me in the alley to pull myself together and wipe the spunk off my skirt. When I’d composed myself I slowly made my way back to the smoking area where Kim and Sarah were waiting for me.



As a group of young lads sniggered Kim laughed and gave me a little cuddle.



“Did you enjoy yourself down there?” She whispered as she handed me a cigarette.



I was a bit dazed and didn’t know what to say so just smiled.



“I heard him tell his mate that it was the best wank he’s had in months!” Sarah giggled and nudged Kim.



We finished our cigarettes before returning to Kim’s house in a taxi. Ian was waiting for his wife and they repeated their antics from the previous week as I lay furiously masturbating while listening to their noisy fucking through the thin wall as I relived my own week moment in the alley, several times.



Kim had obviously told Ian about my indiscretion as he asked ‘if I’d had a better than usual night’ the following morning as I sat with him in the kitchen in my dressing gown. I felt my face go bright red and my nipples stiffen as I nodded and sipped my coffee.



“You might have guessed that she takes some satisfying.” Ian smiled and raised his eyes to mean his wife, “So I don’t mind her having a bit of fun on a night out. She can only guess at what I get up to on my nights with the band.” He was grinning now and staring at my nipples. “As long as she comes home, I’m happy……I’m always happy to get sloppy seconds!” I blushed again and made my excuses before swivelling off the high chair; accidentally giving him another flash of my dark pubes (I really should wear panties when visiting friends).



By now Ian usually kissed me on the cheek as I left but this particular morning he got a good handful of my arse at the same time and I did nothing to stop him.



I drunkenly wanked a different young lad in the same alley the following week, letting him lift my skirt to spunk on my knickers and tights; which I smeared over my face in bed as I fingered myself to 3 more orgasms..



Because of my Birthday celebrations I had a couple of fun but sexually barren weeks until a month after my Birthday when I had an absolutely crazy night. I was in a particularly playful mood (can’t think why) when I arrived at Kim’s house in trousers and a t-shirt, with my ‘going out clothes’ in my bag.



I’d deliberately selected a black and silver bra that showed lots of cleavage and made my boobs nearly fell out as I stepped out of my jeans and revealed a matching tiny lace g-string. I then took out a black chiffon blouse followed by a shortish black pleated skirt and an expensive pair of wide holed fishnet tights.



But when I pulled my new knee high ‘Adam Ant’ boots out of the bag Ian let out a wolf-whistle.



“Easy there; tiger.” Kim laughed; as she pulled her own sexy panties on; “let’s just hope you can keep that image in your head for when I come home!”



We had another great night wandering from pub to pub; I even ‘tached on’ with 5 or 6 different guys who all fondled my arse and boobs, much to my delight. We eventually ended up at the usual club; where the doormen greeted us like Stars.



I felt like I was the centre of attention with a couple of young guys vying for my attention; until I was approached by a squat, tattooed muscleman. My heart was thumping and my chest heaving as he started dancing with me. He was a pretty nifty mover and we eventually chatted for a few minutes after he bought me a drink. With the loud music, conversation was at a minimum but I understood that he was supporting a friend at a body-building competition that was being held in town. He soon made me giggle by trying to put his hand up my skirt to see if I was wearing stockings then he suddenly kissed me full on the lips. I thought that I was going to feint. After kissing my mouth dry inside the club he made his intentions very clear when he followed me outside for a smoke. He repeated his previous actions by kissing my neck and ears while running his hands up my skirt; all the time whispering that he wanted me to go back to his hotel to fuck me.

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