6 comments/ 79147 views/ 7 favorites Stacy's Tail By: Oazeal For the longest time I've had this fantasy. I've wanted to fuck a guy's ass with a strap on dildo. I'd seen it done once is a porno flick and I thought it was the hottest thing in the whole movie. That was several years ago. Since then, whenever I'm intimate with a guy, I try to bring up the subject, but most guys are too homophobic to even consider it. Sure, they're quick enough to shove that thing of theirs up your ass but go anywhere near their precious rosebud and it's "What do you think I am, some kind of faggot?" I can't tell you how many times I've heard that one. I got the feeling though, my current lover was different. He enjoyed it when I played with his ass. Well, I finally got up the nerve to ask him. Last week, before he left on business trip, he stayed the night. The next morning, I woke up to find his head between my legs licking my pussy. Sure beats waking up to an alarm clock. After getting me nice and wet, he started to tongue my ass. Now I know this guy really well. When he starts playing with my ass, it's because he wants to fuck it. So I start thinking that's what's good for the goose is good for the gander. I let him continue working on my ass and pussy until I came. It was a good orgasm but the best was yet to come. (Sort of speak). I reached behind me and took his cock in my hand. He was as hard as a rock. I started to rub the head of his cock between my ass cheeks and asked him if he'd like to put it in my back door. His eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. I told him if he wanted to fuck my ass, he'd have to let me fuck his first. He hesitated, and I reminded his (as I was stroking his cock) how much he enjoyed it when I gave him a rim job or suck a finger up his ass while giving him a blowjob. It took a little convincing, but I got him to agree. Actually, I think he wanted to do it all along. He just didn't want to admit it. He got on his hands and knees. I started by licking is asshole while I stroked his cock. He was getting real hard. I got the tube of KY jelly and started working it into his ass; first with one finger than two, then a third. I had the dildo strapped on and I told him I was going to fuck him but first I wanted him to suck my cock like the little slut he was. From this point on I started referring to him as my little bitch or whore and I was the big stud. I was really getting into the role reversal. I've done some really kinky thing in my life, but this had to be the hottest thing ever. When he took my cock down his throat, I swear, I thought I would cum from the sight of that alone. I couldn't have been more turned on than if I really had a cock. All the time he sucked it I kept telling him what a good little cocksucker SHE was and that SHE was going to make me shoot my load down HER throat. I really surprised myself, the way I got into the whole role reversal. I pulled my cock out of his mouth and tired to mount him. It was difficult at first, but I kept applying more & more KY to both his ass and the dildo. Finally, I just put the dildo against his asshole and told him to push back. He did and slowly it went in. I knew it was hurting him but he buried his head in a pillow and continued to push back until it was completely in. We rested like that for a few moments and then I started fucking. Slowly at first, but after a few strokes we were both getting too hot. He started increasing the pace I responded in kind. The back end of the dildo was rubbing against my clit, and I felt my orgasm start to build. He was begging me to fuck him harder, and I obliged. When he started to groan, I knew he was about to cum. I had planed to pull out and have him cum in my mouth, but my orgasm hit just before his did and I started bucking like mad as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. This was one of the ten greatest orgasms ever. His cock started squirting like a fire hose all over the sheets. We collapsed together on the bed totally exhausted. We realized we must have dozed off (for a change he slept in the wet spot) for a while when we were awoken by the alarm. His first reaction was to jump out of bed and shut off the alarm but, unlike real men, dildos don't get soft. His sudden movement must of hurt like hell from the way he screamed. I gently eased the dildo out of him and helped him to his feet and into the shower. He had a six-hour flight ahead of him. As he hobbled out the door I wonder how he was going to sit for the six-hour flight he had ahead of him. Stacy's Taunt This goes back a few years. Dan had completed his junior year in college, and was supposed to work for his father's investment firm in the Loop during the summer months. However, upon returning to Chicago from the West Coast, he pleaded with his father to give him the summer off, arguing that it was his last summer while still a college student. Even though this stupid argument begged the question – so what? – Dan prevailed. As such, he spent the summer drinking every night, and playing golf or lounging by various friends' pools all day. It had been an eventful summer sexually. He and his friends typically spent their evenings in the bars downtown or in Highwood, a small town a few towns north of Winnetka known for its restaurant and (less so) bar scene. Being a normal college kid with normal sexual appetites, Dan had mounted his fair share of like-minded college women that summer. But it went a little further than that. Having been converted the previous fall by Belinda Marcus into the pleasures and treasures an older woman can provide, Dan followed this obsession wherever it led him. And in the early weeks of his summer break, it led him to Stacy Thomason, or rather back to Stacy Thomason. Keith Thomason was a man that Dan had known since he was a child. Mr. Thomason and Dan's father were not partners per se, but they did partner up on a lot of investment deals and, over the years, their relationship turned social. While growing up, Dan recalled that Mr. Thomason and his wife at any given moment (he went through wives like people with incontinent bowel syndrome went through toilet paper) often spent Easter with his family. Similarly, his parents often vacationed with Mr. Thomason and his wife de jour. During this particular summer (and for a few summers before it), Mr. Thomason's wife was Stacy. Like all Mr. Thomason's wives before her, she was considerably younger than his fifty-eight. Dan guessed that she was in her late thirties. Stacy also mimicked Mr. Thomason's previous wives in stature and appearance, which is to say she resembled a Barbie doll, only not as tall. She stood a slight 5'6". Being one of the "ladies that lunch," she spent plenty of time at the East Bank Club (when she was in the city) or in the gym her husband had built in their Oak Brook home. Her legs were long and lean, her arms sinewy without being overly muscular. Her tummy was flat despite strong muscles honed through her daily exercise regimen. Her narrow hips and trim waist gave light to the fact that she had never borne children. Stacy had spent her twenties and early thirties as a single woman, and had been (by her own admission) promiscuous to the point of being slutty. She had never settled down and thus had never given birth. But married now to Mr. Thomason, her desire for motherhood was strong indeed. Nonetheless, he already had three grown children and, at his stage in life, was not inclined to add another. With time, Stacy had thus abandoned her yearning for children in exchange for the comfortable life that Mr. Thomason could certainly provide her. Dan first became acquainted with Stacy the previous summer when the Thomason's had invited his parents on their fifty-foot cabin cruiser for a party. Before going out that night, Dan had joined his parents on the boat, moored at Monroe Harbor, where he was introduced to Stacy for the first time. She had come onto the rear deck from the cabin wearing what Dan considered an inappropriately short skirt that exposed her tan, lightly muscled legs. His mom later told him that it was simply a wrap covering her bikini bottom. A tight pink tank top hung on her torso, stretching across modest breasts. Short, dirty blonde hair highlighted a freshly scrubbed, girl-next-door face bearing high cheek bones, a pixie nose, lively bright blue eyes, and full lips. Except for a slight splash of pink color across her lips, her face was completely devoid of make-up. Dan had remained on the boat for only an hour or so, just long enough to down a beer and two, and then left to meet some friends in Lincoln Park. Dan saw the Thomason's on a few more occasions over the next few months. Two weekends before he was to return to Los Angeles for his junior year, his parents were again invited to the Thomason's boat. Dan rode downtwon with them and planned to spend an hour or so visiting with the Thomason's before meeting up with some friends. When they stepped aboard the boat, Mr. Thomason was on the back deck with two other couples, drinking margaritas. He poured glasses for Dan's parents, but Dan declined, opting for a beer instead. Mr. Thomason directed him to the galley refrigerator. Alone, Dan entered the cabin and moved toward the steps leading to the galley and the berths. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he found Stacy bent at the waist, grabbing a Coke from the refrigerator. She turned and stood straight when she heard Dan coming. Dan barely recognized her. He wouldn't have thought that possible, given the fact that he had seen her five or six times over the previous two or three months. Yet there he stood, clearly confounded. Stacy had let her hair grow out (which he had noticed without much thought over the summer); it now reached two or three inches below her shoulders, still blonde but somehow . . . more blonde, brassy even. Her lips, full before, appeared even more so now; the previous faint smear of pink had been replaced by a glimmering red lushness. The most alarming changes, however, were bolted to her chest. Gone were the moderate bumps that had previously adorned the woman's torso. In their place Dan found two massive breasts barely contained in – threatening, in fact, to spill over – a black bikini top. 'Sorry, Dan,' she had said sheepishly. 'I was just about to change into something decent.' And she disappeared forward to one of the berths at the front of the boat. After Dan went back to the West Coast, he gave Stacy very little thought. Certainly, she had a delectable body, but she was fifteen or twenty years his senior, and was in any event married to one of his dad's good friends. But his encounter with Belinda Marcus changed those thought processes. Throughout his junior year, he became enthralled – obsessed maybe – with older women, and even more so with those that arrived with big diamond rings. While Dan continued waiting tables at the World Café in Santa Monica, he continually scoped the tables for these wealthy wives, trying to determine from their style of dress and mannerisms whether he could bed them. On a few occasions – too few, in his own mind – he was successful. And as he grew more confident, his thoughts returned more and more to Stacy, the delicious little woman that had transformed herself the previous summer into the caricature of a trophy wife. When Dan returned to Chicago for the holidays, it happened. A few days before Christmas, he met his dad at the East Bank Club for a game of squash and lunch. After lunch, they showered in the club's locker room and his dad, in a rush to make a meeting, left before him. Dan, leaving ten minutes or so later, saw Stacy sitting at a table picking at a salad. He paused, but ultimately approached her to say hello. An hour later, Stacy Thomason was on her hands and knees on a bed at the Whitehall Hotel, her clothes strewn about the room. Her long red nails, gleaming in the bright light offered by a bedside lamp, tightly gripped a pillow, turning her knuckles white. Her artificially inflated tits – 38DD he later discovered – swayed to and fro beneath her torso, the thick nipples dragging across the 400-count bedsheet, rubbing them raw. Lightly made-up eyelids, screwed shut in sexual bliss, hid her bright blue eyes. Her mouth, bordered in the same bright red that first had stunned him the previous summer, hung agape. Grunts and groans escaped her slender throat, and foul language emphasizing her depravity tumbled across her lips. Behind her, Dan was on his knees. One of his big hands was obscured by the long, platinum locks that were wrapped around it as he pulled her back onto him. Jutting from his waist, his thick cock skewered in and out of the married woman's permanently bald cunt. Copious amounts of fluid dripped between the two sweaty bodies as Stacy convulsed through her first of four orgasms that afternoon. Moments later, as the underside of Dan's cock slid forcefully along the edge of her pubic bone, coaxing scalding cum from his achy balls, only Stacy's adherence to the pill prevented an untimely (and embarrassing) pregnancy. Three hours later, the two departed the hotel separately, leaving behind a bed from which the sheets had been ripped, towels dripping from the shower curtain rod, and the unmistakable stench of mixed sweat, vaginal fluid and semen. Dan hooked up with Stacy two more times during that holiday vacation. When he came home for Easter, he told his parents that his flight wasn't to arrive until Friday afternoon. In truth, his plane touched down at O'Hare International Airport on Thursday afternoon. After making his way through the terminal, he descended to the basement and purposefully strode beneath the arrival and departure lanes to the O'Hare Hilton. Having already checked the voicemail on his mobile phone, he ascended the elevator directly to Room 954. A few moments after he knocked on the door, Stacy pulled it open, her long, red fingernails curling around the edge of the door, the ostentatious diamond on her ring finger sparkling in the pale light cast throughout the hallway. 'God, I need your young cock,' she moaned as she kissed him hard on the mouth. Her wet, pink tongue slithered between Dan's lips and her inflated tits smooshed against his chest. Before he had the chance to drop his bag, Stacy had fished his thickening cock from his pants and had wrapped her slutty red lips around the shaft, her lip gloss leaving a stain around the girth of him. So it was that during the summer after his junior year Dan found himself the object of a married woman's affections. A few nights a week, he plied his charms in the bars of Highwood (he even checked out Hunter's once, looking for Mrs. Morgan) or Lincoln Park or Bucktown. But Stacy Thomason became his real obsession. The last weekend in June, just before the July Fourth holiday, the Thomason's invited Dan's family to their home for a barbeque. Apparently, Mr. Thomason threw this party every year, inviting business associates, clients, and key employees. It was his way of saying thank you, and also of preserving good relations with clients. Dan drove down to Oak Brook with his parents. With Dan at the wheel, his dad directed him off Interstate 88 toward the old Midwest Club. They were checked through the security gate and wound their way through the neighborhood to the Thomason's manor. A valet in front of the house offered to park the car, and Dan followed his parents into the house, the conditioned air a Godsend on this hot June afternoon. A butler, hired to service the guests, directed them to the backyard where the party was being held. Dan sent his parents on their way, and stopped at the bathroom to relieve himself. When he stepped onto the back porch, the chatter of seventy or so people assaulted his ears and he inhaled the pungent scent of freshly cut grass. Getting his priorities straight, he first found the bar and got a bottle of Amstel Light. Taking a sip, he looked around for Mr. Thomason, and found him standing in a small circle of friends near a spit that had been towed in to roast the pig. Dan made his way over, and Mr. Thomason saw him approach. "Dan! Great to see you," he lit up, extending his hand. "Glad you could make it." "Glad you invited me, Mr. Thomason," Dan responded, pumping the older man's hand. "Of course. Wouldn't be the same without you. Here, let me introduce you to these jokers. Gentlemen, this is Will's kid, Dan. Dan, this is Bob, Wayne, Stan and Rick." Dan shook hands with them all. "From right to left, they are my partner, a client of ours who has become a great friend, our attorney, and Rick here is one of my top guys. Been with me for years." "Pleasure to meet you all," Dan said, shaking the last hand. As the men's conversation returned to business, Dan bowed out and found his parents. After being introduced – or reintroduced in some cases – to a handful of people, Dan wandered around the back yard for a while. He stopped by the spit to take a look; there weren't many pig roasts in Winnetka or Los Angeles. A few buffet tables were set up nearby, with a dozen or so round tables beyond that for dining purposes. 'Quite a spread,' Dan thought to himself, eyeing a small stage set up on the far side of the dining tables. Sipping a fresh beer, he walked the hundred or so feet from the spit to a large flagstone veranda that surrounded the large, shaped pool; kids were splashing each other as two men in black pants, white shirts and bow ties attempted to erect a volleyball net across the width of the pool. He circled around the diving board just as a little brat did a cannonball into the deep end. About fifty yards behind the pool was a guest house. Manicured lawn and landscaping separated the pool from the guest house, with a cobblestone path connecting them. The guest house itself was surrounded by tall oak trees, a small patio giving access to a sliding door that led inside. Dan continued to wander around the backyard. As he circled back around to another bar – this one located near the pool – and grabbed another beer, Dan saw Stacy giving directions to one of the waitstaff. When the young man scurried off with her instructions, she returned her attention to the coterie of women that she had been talking with. Dan stood by the bar, observing her. She was dressed respectably today. A baby blue sundress hung just above her soft knees, adequately covering the inflated tit-flesh that had been installed on her otherwise trim torso. Gucci slides with open fronts covered her feet, exposing her sexy manicured toes. He watched as she took a sip of what appeared to be a mixture of vodka and lemonade; even from this distance, the bright red lipstick smeared on the rim stood out. Casually, she reached up and brushed the brassy hair from her face, the four-carat diamond mounted to her left hand sparkling in the sunlight. "Keith's wife's a hottie, huh?" The voice startled Dan and brought him out of his reverie. He looked toward the voice and found Rick, one of Mr. Thomason's "top guys," standing next to him, scotch-and-soda in hand. "Mmm," Dan dissembled. "Yeah, I guess. I never really noticed." Rick scoffed at him before downing the rest of his drink in one gulp. "Bullshit, kid." He interrupted himself to burp, ordered another scotch from the bartender, and then continued. "Look at that fuckin' body. Jesus, what I would do to that." Clearly, Rick was drunk. Dan was not wise in the way of corporate politics, but he didn't think it was too smart to talk that way about your boss's wife. "Uh, don't you work for Keith?" "Yeah, what of it? Doesn't mean I can't notice that his wife is a little sexpot." 'A sexpot?' Dan thought to himself. 'Does this guy come from the middle ages, or what?' Out loud, he mumbled, "No, I guess not." "Besides, nothing would ever happen. She's too frigid. Believe me," he slurred, "I've tried to get into that bitch's pants and I always get shot down." 'What a fuckin' idiot,' Dan thought. 'Frigid, my ass. I've been in those pants half-a-dozen times.' What he said was, "Hmm. Well, I need another drink. See you around." A little while later, Dan was talking to his parents and a group of his dad's business associates when Stacy found them. Dan's dad gave her a warm hug, and his mom planted a friendly kiss on Stacy's cheek. "Hi, Mrs. Thomason," Dan intoned when she turned toward him. "Hi, sweetie." Stacy leaned into Dan and gave him a friendly hug, but whispered in his ear, "I love when you call me Mrs. Thomason." Her rose-tinted perfume wafted in his nostrils as she pulled back, and his cock twitched in his pants. "So," she smiled to the group, "I hope everyone brought their bathing suits. It's a fabulous day, and we've got the volleyball net set up in the pool." Most of the crowd laughed and a slightly overweight man responded, "I don't think you want to see me in a bathing suit, jumping up and down." With grace, Stacy laughed. "Don't be silly. You'll have fun. How about you, Dan? Bring a bathing suit?" "I didn't." Dan took a pull from the bottle. "Well, we have extra bathing suits inside. I'll get you one if you want to play." "I might take you up on that," Dan responded, wandering off for a new beer. The afternoon wore on, and the sun began to set. As it was about to disappear over the tops of the ancient oaks surrounding the property, a loud clanging sound emanated from around the spit and dinner was served. Dan, now in his bathing suit and a t-shirt, moved toward the buffet tables and, after filling a plate, found a table with his parents. The pool, previously occupied by volleyball players, emptied as everyone gathered for dinner. As people finished eating, they got up from their tables and congregated around the stage, socializing and waiting for the band to begin. One of Mr. Thomason's employees – a younger guy – ran around recruiting people for another game of volleyball. Dan took him up on his offer, and jogged across the backyard to the pool and jumped in. A group of eight played a few games in the pool as the sun set completely, casting the backyard in darkness, illuminated only by the lights of the pool and the glow from the stage. As the game died out, Dan remained in the pool with a few of the men who had played, including Rick. They all sipped at their drinks, dutifully topped off now and again by helpful waitstaff, and Dan listened to them talk about business or their golf games. After a while, the lights in the pool dimmed and then extinguished, and Stacy appeared at the edge of the pool, still in her sexy but conservative sundress. "You guys gonna stay in there all night?" she asked with a bright smile. "The party's moved over there," she said, throwing a manicured thumb over her shoulder at the throng of people gathered around the tables and near the stage where the band was getting ready to play. "Why don't you come in, Stacy?" Rick asked her, a leer in his voice. "I don't think so, Rick. I'm entertaining," she responded somewhat sourly. "That's what I mean," he slurred. "Get your ass in here and entertain us." Some of the guys in the pool looked at each other nervously. "Don't be rude, Rick," she spat. "Why don't you get out of the pool and go find your little wifey?" The other men began to move away and get out of the pool, but Dan stayed behind. "What's wrong, Stacy?" he inquired with a smile that only she could see. "Just throw on a bathing suit and join us for a while." Stacy remained silent, considering. She looked over the backyard at all the partygoers, some still eating, others with full drinks in their hands, all waiting for the band to start. The waitstaff was doing their job without Stacy having to ride them. She shrugged her shoulders. "Okay. Let me go in and change." When Stacy sauntered off toward the house, Rick turned to Dan. "What the fuck? I ask, and she says no and gets snotty. Some little punk like you asks and now she's inside changing? Fuckin' slut." "Don't complain, Rick. You wanted her in the pool, and she's going to be in the pool," Dan explained. "Besides, I thought you said you never got into her pants." Rick looked at him. "Yeah, so what?" he mumbled, or slurred, Dan couldn't really tell. "So if even YOU can't fuck her, she must not be a slut." If Rick hadn't been so drunk, he would have easily detected the sarcasm dripping from Dan's voice. Stacy's Taunt As it was, he pondered the logic of it for a moment, though his sun- and alcohol-soaked brain seemed to have difficulty comprehending. "Yeah, I guess. Whatever." Ten minutes later, a side door opened, spilling yellow light across part of the yard. Stacy slipped out and strode across the veranda to the pool, confident that few of her guests would see her in the near darkness. Silhouetted against the light, Rick and Dan watched her approach, trim hips and narrow waist slinking from side to side. She approached them at somewhat of an angle, and they marveled at the full outline of her gigantic tits bobbing beneath the bikini top. When she reached the edge of the pool, Stacy dove, surfaced almost immediately, and breast-stroked toward the gawking men. She came to a stop beside them, keeping just her head above the water, her body concealed beneath its surface. She reached for Dan's beer. "Let me have a sip of that," she commanded, her long fingers curling around the long neck of the bottle, the platinum of her wedding rings clanking against the glass. She tipped her head back, and poured some of the amber liquid down her throat. Dan heard her swallow over the humming of the pool filter. "Thanks." "My pleasure." Dan took his own sip from the bottle. "So, I see you've met Rick," she noticed, pulling hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ears. "Yeah, Keith introduced us earlier." "You havin' fun, Rick?" Stacy inquired. "Yeah, great time," he murmured. "Looks like it," Stacy said disapprovingly, moving between Rick and Dan, keeping her back to Dan. "So," she continued, addressing Rick, "what do you think of this kid?" She nodded back toward Dan, who floated on the balls of his feet behind her. "He's all . . . alright," Rick managed to slur. "Kin' of a smard ass, though." "Rick's always trying to get in my pants, Dan," Stacy informed him, floating backward, paddling her arms to guide her, her eyes locked on Rick's. "But I never let him touch me. Isn't that right, Rick?" "Whatever." Rick took a drink from his tall scotch-and-soda, as if he needed more alcohol coursing through his veins. Stacy floated backward another foot or so and bumped into Dan, who made no effort to get out of her way. Instead, his hands floated toward her hips, resting there lightly, obscured by the darkness and the rippling water on the surface of the pool. He chanced a glance over his shoulder; there were no guests near the pool. Stacy put a hand behind her as Rick poured more scotch down his throat. Her red-painted fingernails found the string to Dan's bathing suit and pulled it loose. The graceful fingers slid into his bathing suit, searching for the young man's thick cock. The bathing suit slipped over Dan's hips as Stacy's cool fingers wrapped around the shaft, tugging on the engorged tube. "You're not trying to say you've gotten in my pants, are you, Rick?" Stacy taunted him a lilting voice. Dan's hands slipped around the front of her bikini and a finger hooked behind the triangle that protected her bald cunt from exposure, pulling it aside. "No," Rick started. Stacy floated off her feet a little, leaning forward to give Dan a better angle at her now exposed pussy. "But I could, if I wanted." A confused look came across Rick's face as Stacy squirmed in front of him. She laughed, then gasped as the spongy head of Dan's cock shoved her labia aside. "You can't do shit, Rick," she spat. Dan thrust his hips against Stacy, driving the length of his shaft inside her. "Oh, fuck," she whispered. "Whad?" Rick mumbled, taking another drink. Stacy looked at him with an evil gleam in her eye. "Do you know what this kid is doing to me right now?" Dan pulled halfway out of the tight sheath that was Stacy's overused cunt, and then slammed back into her, disturbing the relative calmness of the water around them. Keeping his cock firmly seated within her, he pushed Stacy forward so that she floated closer to Rick. "No," he responded, the confused look still on his face. Dan reached around Stacy and placed his hands on her balloon-like tits, pulling the cups of the bikini top aside, revealing her monsters, nipples thick with excitement and from the cold water. "Jesus Christ," Rick whispered, Stacy just two feet away from him. Dan thrust his bloated cock into her, gripping her tits firmly in his hands, the flesh squishing between his fingers. She grunted at the brutal intrusion. "What the fuck are you doing, Stacy?" Rick demanded, sobriety seeming to find him instantly. "You're letting this kid fuck you right here, right in front of me, with your husband not a hundred feet away?" Stacy groaned as Dan slowly withdrew from her hot cunt, only to slam the thick rod back into her. "That's exactly . . . what I'm doing . . . and you're not . . . going to say . . . a word," she hissed. Dan loosened his grip on the unfaithful housewife's tits, letting them slip against his palms until his fingers found her engorged nipples. He lightly pinched them, and Stacy's eyelids fluttered with ecstacy. She was floating within a foot of Rick now. "The fuck I'm not," Rick said a little louder, almost spitting in her face. "I've been trying to fuck you forever, and you always turn me down." "You won't . . . say a word," she grunted, her eyes hooded over. "If you do . . . I'll tell that little . . . bimbo wife . . . about what you do . . . on your business trips . . . ." Though Dan hadn't known about it, it seemed that Rick traveled often and was not above cheating on his wife when in foreign towns. When Dan pounded into her again, causing pool water to splash up and over her body, Stacy's attention returned to the kid behind her. "Oh Gawd, fuck me, Dan! Cum in my . . . unprotected cunt . . . right here . . . in front of . . . little Ricky," she moaned, the depraved words tumbling across her shiny red lips that were now only inches from Rick's face. He could feel the hotness of her breath, feel the specks of spittle that landed on his cheeks. The thrill of fucking this slutty wife in front of this lecherous man, with her husband not a hundred feet away, drove Dan into a fervor. Despite the coolness of the water flowing around their bodies, his cum boiled over and coursed through his shaft, splashing against the slick walls of Stacy's cunt. He grunted once and then again as Stacy's pussy contracted around him, coaxing more sperm from his swollen balls. Her own orgasm upon her, she bit hard on her lower lip in an effort to stifle the moans and grunts caught in her throat. She almost teetered forward into Rick, but broke her fall with her hands on his chest, the long nails scraping his pale flesh. Her little body trembled through her orgasm and Dan continued to hold her mounted on his softening cock, her mammoth tits cradled in his hands. As their collective breaths returned to normal, she pushed Dan back causing his spent cock to slip from the heated folds of her cunt. Rick floated before her, speechless as she pulled her bikini bottom back across her bald hole, the top across her inflated tits. "Remember, little Ricky," she almost whispered, sensuously running the back of her right hand down his left cheek. "Keep your fucking mouth shut or that little bimbo wife of yours will learn all about you." Stacy turned away from the stunned man and in strong, swift strokes, swam to the edge of the pool and lifted herself out, leaving Rick and Dan in the darkness. They watched her skip across the veranda toward the side door from which she had earlier come, water dripping from her luscious body. "How's that for frigid, asshole?" Dan muttered, replacing his bathing suit and swimming away from the still silent Rick and rejoining the party. As the band started up, Dan grabbed another beer from one of the bartenders and found his parents talking to yet another group of people he didn't know. After fielding a number of questions about college and what he was doing this summer, he settled back and listened to the group talk. After a few songs, his parents abandoned him for the dance floor. As they walked away, he caught sight of Stacy, standing in a group with her husband, staring at him. He smiled and was about to rejoin his conversation when Stacy gave a quick jab of her head. He looked at her questioningly, and she shot a quick glance toward the guest house and then back to him. Dan followed her gaze, took the hint, and gave her a quick nod. Excusing himself from the conversation, he moved nonchalantly toward the bar and retrieved another drink. When he looked back toward Mr. Thomason, his wife was gone. So as not to attract attention, Dan meandered through the crowd, nodding at some of the people he had met throughout the afternoon. On the edge of the crowd, he saw Stacy disappear into the darkness of the guest house. Slowly, he sauntered over toward the pool and up the cobblestone path leading to the guest house. He glanced around to make sure he was alone before pulling the sliding door open. He was barely through the door when Stacy materialized from the shadows in front of him, throwing her lean, tanned arms around his neck. Even in the near-dark, her full lips easily found his, and her hot, slippery tongue delved deep into his mouth. Dan groaned into her, savoring the scent of her perfume, the heat of her body, the firmness of her massive tits pressing into his belly. His hands found her hips but quickly abandoned them in favor of the superb work of the plastic surgeon. "God, I love these tits," he moaned into her sucking mouth, running the palms of his huge hands across her engorged nipples. Stacy giggled and pushed away from him. Aided only by the faint light floating across the backyard, she strutted to the queen-size bed that sat along one wall of the simple guest house. "You better," she said over her shoulder, kicking off her heels. "I bought them for guys like you." "I thought your husband bought 'em," Dan teased back as Stacy turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He moved toward her and Stacy glanced down to her cleavage, considering. "I guess that's true," she responded, looking up at him as he approached her. "But I think he'd reconsider if he knew I only got them because young men like you love to play with them." Without further preamble, Stacy placed the open palms of her hands on Dan's chest, rubbing up and down, marveling at the way his pectoral and stomach muscles felt against her hands. "Mmm," she moaned. From her subservient position, she looked up at him, her bright blue eyes exuding only innocence. The words that followed weren't so innocent: "Wanna fuck my face, young man?" Dan only nodded and watched as the long red nails of her left hand reached out for the drawstring on his bathing suit. She slowly pulled the string loose, drawing the process out, the diamonds of her rings flashing in the dim light. When the knot fell free, she slipped a finger from each hand into the waistband, pulling the bathing suit loose. She leaned forward and, using one hand to push Dan's shirt up and out of the way, planted a wet kiss on his ribbed stomach, allowing her wet tongue to snake around his belly button. Her free hand traced down the front of the bathing suit, manicured nails tickling him, causing him to gasp lightly. When her hand reached the leg opening, Stacy allowed it to float back up, this time under the fabric of the suit. Her long nails rasped lightly across the webbing, tormenting Dan's sensitive balls. "Tell me what you want, Dan," she breathed, inhaling the chlorinated scent of his crotch. The similarity to the smell of cum made her heady. "I want . . . you to . . . suck . . . my cock," he managed, pulling his shirt over his head. Her lips still brushing against the downy hair covering his lower stomach, Stacy's elegant hands took up station at the bottom of the bathing suit, slowly tugging it down. A short, gentle tug dropped it an inch or; another tug, another inch. The spongy, purple head of Dan's cock appeared over the waistband and gently bumped against her chin, but she ignored it. Instead, Stacy kept slowly pulling the bathing suit down. As the waistband traversed Dan's hips, gravity took over. The suit fell to his feet and his cock bobbed out, slapping against the tight, warm skin of her chest just above the conservative neckline of her sundress. She leaned back and noticed her lip gloss smeared liberally along Dan's stomach. Her lustful blue eyes fell to the thick shaft that bobbed in front of her pixie-like nose. Stacy ran the tip of one finger along the underside of it. The soft pad of her finger contrasted with the scratchy feel of her nail, and caused him to emit a groan from deep in his throat. "What do you say?" she invited, her eyes remaining on the rigid cock. She could almost imagine the blood pumping through the veins that criss-crossed the shaft. "Please," Dan groaned through gritted teeth, his knees growing weak as Stacy's fingertip traced back and forth, back and forth, along the bottom of his shaft. "Please what?" she teased, her tongue darting out, swiping a pearl of pre-cum that threatened to drop to the Berber carpeting. She loved teasing this young man (any young man, really), reveled in the control she had over him, over his libido, over his engorged cock. Dan groaned again. "Please suck me." It came out in a whisper. "Please suck me, what," she continued to taunt, the red nails of one hand floating underneath his taut, hanging balls, ticking the hairs there. Dan, holding his breath, paused a moment. "Please suck me, Mrs. Thomason," he responded. "Gooood boooooy," she cooed, bobbing her head forward and taking the length of Dan's pulsing shaft into the back of her throat. She gagged momentarily as it bumped against her tonsils, and pulled all the way off. Her left hand wrapped around the saliva-slicked shaft, gently stroking it, the ostentatious diamond staring Dan in the face, taunting him. "I told you," she whispered. "I absolutely loooove it when you call me Mrs. Thomason." Mrs. Thomason stretched her lips around the thickness of Dan's shaft, sucking the heated length of cock into the warm wet cavern of her mouth. Still in her sundress, she adjusted her position on the bed and wrapped her arms around Dan's waist, pulling him deeper into her mouth. Her fingers were planted on each of his butt cheeks, the manicured nails digging lightly into his pale white skin. She pulled back and admired the shiny rod that stood straight out from the young man's body, and then spit on the shaft. "Ohmigod," Dan moaned at her debauchery. "So fuckin' nasty." "Mmm-hmm," Mrs. Thomason responded, her left hand wrapped around the shaft, stroking vigorously. "Nasty . . . fucking . . . housewife." Dan merely nodded, his eyes fixated on the bright red nails and huge diamond that blurred as her hand shucked back and forth on his cock. "I fucking love . . . thick . . . young . . . cock," she grunted. Despite the air conditioning that hummed unobtrusively in the background, a sheen of sweat appeared on Mrs. Thomason's forehead. When her mouth again engulfed the throbbing cock, Mrs. Thomason saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She bobbed her head along the rod and, on a back stroke, saw Rick step onto the patio that fronted the guest house. 'Fucking pervert,' she thought as her thirty-eight-year-old lips slid along the twenty-year-old shaft. 'I'll give that asshole a show,' she thought, wickedness clouding her bright blue eyes. She released Dan's cock from her sucking mouth; a string of saliva connected her upper lip to the purple head before it snapped and fell to her chest, wetting the front of her sundress. Mrs. Thomason coaxed Dan's feet out of the bathing suit and turned around, holding her hair above her neckline. Dan found the zipper nestled in the folds of her sundress, and quickly pulled it down, exposing her lightly muscled back. Nuzzling her neck, he pushed the dress forward off her shoulders and it fell, hanging to her body at the waist. With her back still to him, Mrs. Thomason wiggled her hips as the dress and her thong worked their way down before puddling at her feet. She reached behind her to release the hooks of the silky 38DD bra, quickly pulling it off her arms and dropping it the ground. Falling onto the bed and turning to face Dan, she growled, "Get up here, young man. Take me from behind." Dan wasted little time moving around to the other side of the bed and knee-walking up behind her. The musky scent emanating from her dripping hole assaulted his nostrils. Mrs. Thomason, on all fours, reached between her legs for his jutting cock. Finding it, she took it gently between her fingers, pulling the shaft against her slick cunt lips, soaking it her in juices. "Put it in me," she demanded, looking over her shoulder with fire clouding her ordinarily bright blue eyes. "Put . . . that . . . college . . . cock . . . in my cunt!" Placing his hands on Mrs. Thomason's narrow hips, Dan pushed forwarded and was immediately rewarded by the internal heat of her pussy engulfing his cockhead. Pushing harder, his shaft disappeared halfway to his balls and he pulled back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside the married cunt. A second thrust forward found Dan's pubic hairs tickling Mrs. Thomason's exposed asshole, and she grunted at the almost violent penetration. Her head swiveled back around, facing forward now, toward the sliding glass door that led into the guest house from the patio. She again saw movement, this time right at the glass. As the young man pounded into her from behind, Mrs. Thomason screwed her eyes closed, reveling in the sensation that coursed along her nerves from pussy to brain, reveling in what she was about to do. She didn't care that this was wrong. She didn't care that she was on her hands and knees, a kid young enough to be her son behind her, fucking her slutty cunt from behind. It didn't disturb her one bit that a huge crowd of people were a hundred feet on the other side of that door, or that her husband was one of them. But knowing that she was being watched as she degraded herself for a kid just out of his teens sent butterflies scurrying about her belly. Knowing what she was going to do to that asshole who worked for her husband caused a knot to form in her stomach. Her eyes flew open. * * * Rick, standing outside the guest house, his face pressed into the glass of the sliding door, almost fell backward on his ass when his boss's wife's eyes shot open and focused directly on him. He expected her to scream and jump up from the bed, searching for something to cover her naked little body. He waited, but the scream never came, nor did she jump off the bed. Instead, Mrs. Thomason's shiny red lips formed a lustful grin. Her manicured fingers grasped the comforter in a death grip, and she slammed her trim hips back against the smart-ass kid he had encountered earlier, the lucky punk who had fucked the object of Rick's masturbation fantasies right in front of him. Her eyes remained locked on his, and he thought he saw a smirk in them. His eyes didn't remain on hers for long, though. They were easily drawn to her pendulous tits swaying beneath her, the nipples erect and distended. Sweat ran down her forehead to her nose; it threatened to drip from her chin. Through the glass, he saw her lips move, but couldn't make out the words. * * * "Guess . . . who's . . . watching?" she breathed, her bright eyes still boring into Rick. "Huh?" Dan grunted, his eyes growing heavy at the pressure Mrs. Thomason's pelvic bone exerted against the underside of his cock. "Rick's watching us," she whispered, whipping her head around to face her young stud. The fingers of her left hand threaded her damp hair behind her ear, and the diamond of her engagement ring glittered in the faint light that penetrated the darkness. "Wanna . . . fuck . . . with him?" Stacy's Taunt Dan was a little taken aback. He had never fucked with an audience. Nonetheless, he merely grunted, not willing to withdraw his pulsating shaft from Mrs. Thomason's hot cunt. She turned her head back toward the sliding door, and crooked a shiny red nail in Rick's direction, beckoning him inside. The glass door slid open, allowing the band and the sounds of the partygoers to pour into the silence of the guest house. Rick stood there, a drink in one hand, the other adjusting his cock beneath his bathing suit. "Shut the door," Mrs. Thomason commanded him. To Dan, whose thrusts against her upturned ass had slowed upon Rick's entry, she said, "Keep fucking me, kid." Dan tightened his grip on her hips, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh, and increased the frequency of his lunges, his taut, hairy balls slapping against her bald cunt lips. "You like . . . watching . . . Rick?" she breathed through Dan's increased assault on her cunt. "Is that . . . what you are? . . . . A peeping Rick?" Rick slid the door shut, and took a step, then another, into the guest house. The small room reeked of sex and sweat and cunt juice, and triggered an immediate response in the older man. He took another step toward the bed upon which his boss's wife knelt, the college kid behind her. "Stay right there, asshole!" "No. I . . . I wanna join," he whispered. "That's . . . not part . . . of the deal . . . Little Ricky." Mrs. Thomason's arms collapsed underneath her and she fell to her elbows. "You'll NEVER . . . get ANY . . . of this." Rick looked over the blonde head, damp now, to her upturned ass. Behind her, the college punk was pounding into her cunt. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto her ass, where it ran down her back, pooling at her shoulder blades. "Don't be a bitch, Stacy," he began. "You're obviously a slut. Come on. I'll give you a good fuck." Mrs. Thomason laughed and ground her trim hips back against Dan, feeling the thick cock stretch her hole and push against the yielding flesh of her slick cunt walls. "You'll . . . give me . . . nothing. . . . I don't fuck . . . old guys . . . like you," she taunted with a sneer. "I . . . only fuck . . . young men . . . like this kid. . . . You couldn't . . . give me half . . . of what . . . this kid has." Rick took a quick pull of his scotch-and-soda, and vigorously rubbed his cock with his other hand. "Bullshit," he said, swallowing. He took another step toward the bed, his eyes locked on the massive tits swaying beneath Stacy's trim, muscular torso. Her nipples, brushing against the cotton comforter, were agitated and bright red. Her bright blue eyes bore into his. Her body came to an abrupt halt, and Dan almost fell over her back. "One more step," she spat, the disdain obvious in her voice. "One more step and your little bimbo learns of your infidelities." Her threat brought Rick up short. "That's right, Little Ricky," she lilted, her voice sweet as honey. Mrs. Thomason reached behind her and found one of Dan's hips, her fingernails digging into his flesh as she pulled the young man into her again. "You can watch this--," she began before being interrupted by Dan's thick cock slicing into her loosening hole. "this kid pound . . . the shit . . . outta me . . . but you'll . . . never touch me! . . . This cunt . . . is off-limits . . . to old balls . . . like yours!" Dan watched this exchange with a certain amount of trepidation. After all, Rick was a pretty big guy. In his naked and erect state, Dan knew that Rick could beat the shit out of him if he was of a mind to do it. Still, the wickedness of the woman that right then hung off the end of his cock kept him erect, kept him plowing into her soft, sopping hole. "You don't know what you're missing, Stacy," he pleaded. "I'll be one of best fucks you ever had." "I doubt it," she sneered. Mrs. Thomason rolled forward and to the side, causing Dan's cock to slip from her folds with an audible pop. She wrapped the delicate fingers of her left hand around the dripping shaft, her wedding and engagement rings apparent to both men, and waved the shaft gently at Rick. "You don't have anything like this, asshole." She got back on her hands and knees in front of Dan and he easily impaled the cheating slut on his broad cock. "Besides . . . if you were . . . such a good fuck . . . your wife wouldn't . . . be spreading her legs . . . behind your back!" Dan flinched at Mrs. Thomason's insult. "Fuck you, Stacy!" Rick spat. "Beth would never fuck around on me." "Wrong, Little Ricky," she taunted him, staring directly into his eyes, her body rocking back and forth against the increasingly violent thrusts of her boy-toy. "She would . . . and she has." "You're a fucking liar, Stacy." Mrs. Thomason's reverse thrusts at the young cock behind her paused for a moment. "You think so?" she inquired, a trim blonde eyebrow arching over one of her bright blue eyes. She rammed back at Dan with a grunt. "Gawd I . . . I love . . . your cock . . . kid." Her eyes closed against the stretching she felt deep in her cunt. "Mmmmm," she moaned, biting her lower lip. "Why don't you ask Jerit Washington if I'm lying?" she said behind eyes screwed shut tight. Though she didn't see it, Dan did. Rick went pale and then red with rage. "You fuckin' cunt!" he almost screamed, albeit through gritted teeth. "You spread a rumor like that, that Beth's fucking a black kid, and I don't give a shit what happens to me. Are you listening to me, you fucking whore!?!" he yelled, almost hysterical now, spittle flying from his lips, fists clenched in fury. "I'll tell Keith all about you and this little punk." "Shut the fuck up, Little Ricky," Mrs. Thomason muttered. "It's not . . . a rumor. . . . She's been fucking him for . . . three or four months." Dan continued to pound into the married woman from behind, her ass cheeks rippling with each thrust, the sweet scent of her dripping cunt and spread-wide asshole wafting up to his flaring nostrils. She lifted herself off her elbows, again placing her hands beneath her to brace against the onslaught. "You're lying," Rick moaned with little conviction. "How would you know, anyway?" Mrs. Thomason reached behind her and pushed Dan away, his cock slipping from her sloppy cunt with a loud pop. "Lie back, sweetie." Dan pulled his legs around, slipping them between her lean legs, and fell to his back, feet pointing toward Rick. "Good boy," she whispered, patting one of his legs. Mrs. Thomason got to her feet on the bed and looked in Rick's direction. He was leaning against the wall beside the sliding door, on the verge of tears. She moved back toward Dan, her fake tits bouncing with the mattress, until her cute feet were poised on either side of the young man's hips. Slowly, she squatted over the upright cock that shone with her juices. The muscles in her legs undulated with the effort, and she reached down with her left hand, grasping Dan's shaft in her fingers. She slowly lowered herself, and Rick watched as the punk's angry, shiny purple head pushed the hanging, stretched lips of her cunt aside, nestling itself in the hot folds of Stacy Thomason's slutty hole. When she abruptly lifted off, he watched her enormous tits wobble on her slim torso, her distended nipples seemingly waving at him, teasing him. As she descended again, allowing more of the thick shaft to become ensconced in her unfaithful cunt, Rick's hatred of her grew ten-fold. Her diamond rings flashed at him, reminded him of her accusations of his own wife's infidelities. "Because . . . I've been . . . fucking him . . . too," Mrs. Thomason whispered as she inched her cunt over Dan's young cock, her eyes still locked on the pathetic asshole before her. "He told me . . . all about . . . your sweet . . . stupid . . . little . . . Beth," she grunted, feeling Dan's balls squish against her bald cunt. And Beth was stupid. Or at least she looked it. Dan had seen her earlier in the day. Mrs. Thomason may have looked like a Barbie doll now with her inflated tits, but Beth both looked like one and acted like one: she clearly had very few brain cells clicking. She had the body of an adult: long, lean legs; big, soft-looking tits that easily filled a 36D bra; a full mouth that had probably seen a lot of cock. But she acted almost like a child; she was shy, she giggled, she said things like "Really?" as she nodded her blonde head to whatever was said to her. "Noooo," Rick whined. "That's right," Mrs. Thomason mocked him, lifting herself off the thick cock that dripped pre-cum deep inside her unprotected cunt. "While you're . . . in New York . . . with my husband . . . Jerit Washington . . . in is in your . . . stupid wife." She paused and then, allowing her legs to give way beneath her, impaled her bald cunt on Dan's trembling shaft, finishing with a grunt: "Balls deep!" "Noooo!" he almost wailed, sliding down the wall, dropping his scotch-and-soda along the way. "She's just . . . like me . . . Little Ricky. . . . She loves . . . young cock. . . . She likes 'em young . . . and thick . . . Little Ricky . . . and you . . . don't . . . measure . . . up!" Rick was just a pile of skin and bones against the wall of the guest house. Mrs. Thomason's left hand found her engorged clit, and two manicured fingers danced across the exposed bud. "And guess what . . . Little Ricky. . . . She takes him . . . bareback! She lets that . . . fat . . . black . . . cock . . . in her . . . without a rubber!" "Oh shit," Mrs. Thomason heard Dan grunt behind her. "I'm gonna . . . I'm gonna cum!" he moaned through gritted teeth. "Want me . . . to pull . . . out?" "Fuck no," Mrs. Thomason snarled. "I want you . . . to shoot it . . . in me . . . college boy!" Her red-tipped fingers were a blur as they manipulated her thick clit, desperately trying to wheedle another orgasm from her overworked cunt muscles. "Cum inside . . . my cunt! . . . Impregnate me! . . . Do what . . . Jerit does . . . to little bimbo Beth!" Her cunt clamped around the invading shaft, refusing to let go despite the slick fluids coating her inner walls. Despite his efforts to hold back, Dan could not withstand the pressure squeezing around his shaft. The filthy, depraved thoughts that tumbled over Mrs. Thomason's lips drove him over the edge. His cum churned in his balls and coursed along the length of his shaft, pumping against the contracting walls of her unprotected cunt. She pulled up, willing more cum from the pulsing shaft, and then crashed her pelvis back against his. Cum squirted from around her tightly gripping lips, soaking Dan's shaft and balls in his own cum. Her breath still ragged, Mrs. Thomason collapsed against the young man behind her as his cock continued to spew hot sperm into her welcoming hole. Dan's arms encircled her, his right hand grasping at her left tit, his left at her right. He squeezed hard, cock pulsing inside her with the feeling of her firm, sweaty titflesh squishing between his fingers. Her cunt still spasmed around his thick shaft, and he took her bloated nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, exerting intense pressure on the sensitive flesh. Mrs. Thomason's orgasm found renewed vigor with Dan's abuse of her engorged nipples. Her body shook and trembled atop her young lover, and she snaked a hand behind her, wrapping it around his neck, holding tight. He buried his face in her damp hair, breathed hotly into her ear as the orgasm continued to convulse through her flesh. "I came inside you, Mrs. Thomason," he taunted the shuddering woman. He pulled her raw nipples away from her body and watched as her saline-filled tits wobbled beneath the stretched nipples. Sweat dripped from her face and hair, covering them both in her musky scent. "I know," she breathed, coming back down. "You shouldn't have." "Why?" he whispered back, mindful of Rick's continued presence against the wall. "You're on the pill." She shook her head, and wiped a stream of sweat from her forehead. "I forgot to get my prescription refilled," she muttered. A knot formed in his stomach, and grew cold. Mrs. Thomason felt him go still beneath her as his cock slipped from the sloppy confines of her adulterous hole. "Don't worry. I can always take a morning-after pill." She lifted herself off the prone boy beneath her and got off the bed. She took a quick look out the patio door to see if anyone was near the guest house, their combined juices sliding down the insides of her warm thighs. Seeing no one, she turned back to Dan. "Why don't you get dressed and rejoin the party, sweetie. Rick and I have something to talk about for a few minutes." While Dan dressed, Mrs. Thomason went into the bathroom and, soaking a hand towel, ran it over her sweaty body. When she reappeared, Dan was already dressed. She slipped the sundress over her head and walked Dan to the door. "See you in a few," she whispered, sinking her pink tongue into the college kid's mouth as he slid out the patio door. Mrs. Thomason watched him go and then turned to Rick, still propped up against the wall. "Sorry, Rick," she said, squatting in front him, running her fingers through his hair. "I didn't mean for you to find out this way," she continued, as Dan's cum leaked from her stretched cunt, forming a puddle on the carpeting beneath her. Rick didn't respond. "But remember, Rick. You better not say a word to Keith," she said softly. "If you do, I'm not kidding. I will tell her about all the little sluts you sleep with on your trips. Okay?" Rick looked up at her with fire in his eyes, and laughed an evil laugh. "You think I care about that? I'm done with that slut." "Don't be rash, Rick. After all, you cheated on her, too." "So what? We're done. And guess what that means, you little whore?" he lashed out viciously. "You fucking cradle robber? It means that I don't give a fuck if you tell Beth about me. It means you have nothing on me. You can't blackmail me now. So what's to stop me from telling Keith that you're a cheap slut?" The blood drained from Mrs. Thomason's face. She realized in an instant that she had made a gross error in judgment. Rick now had no motivation to keep her slutty little secret from Keith. But she quickly regained her composure. She tipped forward to her knees, and ran a manicured finger up Rick's exposed hairy thigh and under one of the legs of his damp bathing suit. "Well," she whispered, her voice sultry as a manicured finger brushed against his soft cock. "I guess maybe your old balls WILL get some of this."