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Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 01

By: stephen55



"What to do, what to do," murmured Mrs. Taylor to herself. It was seven in the evening. She was bored and feeling like she wanted to change that. "My hubby's away so the cat will play," she sang to herself. "But what does the cat want to do? Play with a cat...or catch a rat? Yes, that's it..." and she smiled.

The away hubby wasn't a problem. He was a private investigator of the sordid sort. He knew that most people calling on his services to catch a cheating spouse were very likely to be in flagrante delicto themselves from time to time. In his experience the one who wanted to get rid of a spouse usually had the most to lose. Often it was the husband but on several occasions he had made a small fortune by turning on his wealthy wife client and presenting her with several 'money shot' photos of her she really didn't want her husband to get hold of. He had no qualms about blackmail as long as the victim had serious qualms about the results of a divorce going the wrong way. While the bulk of his income came from garden variety photographic voyeurism, the extra cash from the double cross was welcome, as was the feeling of really screwing someone over. 

Mrs. Taylor and her husband had a working marriage. She occasionally put herself out as bait to entrap a wayward husband, either at the behest of her husband on a job or simply for a little extra cash of her own choosing. She accepted both straight forward cash for sex and straightforward cash for silence. Mr. Taylor was intelligent enough to only work far from home, so she sometimes used these affairs of the heart to amuse herself while he was gone. Mrs. Taylor was also intelligent enough not to play in her own backyard. 

She knew he was doing the same, often getting sexual favour as part of his blackmail on the occasional wife. It was no secret, as they enjoyed telling each other about their underhanded exploits. They were both very good at the exploits and the telling. 

They had a good life together. While she never fooled herself into thinking she was in love with her man, she was fond of him; fond of his body, his sexual appetites and especially fond of his devious mind. She was not certain if her husband truly loved her and was unconcerned. They had the perfect life together in her opinion. They were together just enough of the time and apart just enough of the time. She knew he adored her just slim enough, tall body, her smaller but adolescently firm breasts, her attractive face and her equally devious mind. 

"Play the cat, catch a rat..." She had already come up with a plan. Money was good at the time, so this evening was going to be just for fun. She was feeling particularly hungry in the sexual sense and thought, "Maybe I'll do more than just catch and play with a rat. Decisions, decisions..." She always had a travel case ready to go, containing various essentials for the games she played. All she needed to do was pack an overnight bag of suitable attire, find a hotel room in the nearby bigger city (she was always careful not to stay at the same hotel too many times in any given year), get in her car and go. On the way, as the car quietly purred down the highway, she put in her CD of Mozart's Don Giovanni, her favourite opera of seduction and betrayal. She didn't know Italian but she knew the story.

Arriving at the hotel and parking in the underground, she went up to her mid-range priced room and poured herself some cognac that she had brought along. Sipping the drink, feeling the warmth ooze out into her body, she thought about her location. She was about a mile away from a bar that she thought would do. A bar for the older crowd, the business people who worked in the area's several blocks of office buildings. Home to some of the business movers and shakers; in other words...rats. She stepped into the shower, shampooed her short black hair, soaped her body and rinsed off, all the while whistling an aria from the opera.

Getting picked up was so much easier if she looked like she wanted to get picked up. Her attitude she didn't have to worry about. Forest green matching silk panties and bra, sheer black stockings and one of her favourite black party dresses. It hugged her figure while showing only enough of her breasts to look enticing but not skanky. She was after a middle aged business man, not a college jock. Down her waist it followed her figure perfectly and gave her ass the look of two firm feminine globes before ending at mid thigh. A pair of expensive black high heeled open toed shoes and...what for jewellery...yes, pearls. Simple, elegant pearl earrings, a matching pearl necklace which was followed by an engagement ring made up her choice of jewellery. 

With her hair dry, she put on a very expensive human hair, long black wig that was taken for real by all but the experts and she was unlikely to be done in by one tonight. Perfume, perfume...yes, with her skin chemistry she had never gone wrong with good old Chanel No.5. A touch with the applicator to her inner wrists and her cleavage, a careful combing out of her wig and she was set. Putting on a tailored jacket to make her look like a businesswoman out on the town and taking her "night out" black purse, she went down to the lobby and stepped into a cab. 

Five minutes later she was stepping out of the cab and into the Bull Pen bar. Not a western themed placed, but a place for business people who are feeling good about their day. She walked in calmly and with a confident smile, took a seat at the bar that put her one empty seat away from a guy on both sides. 'Perfect,' she thought. 'Now they can go Mano a Mano if they want.' 

In response to the bartenders request for her order, she asked for another glass of cognac. Glancing behind the bar at the wall of bottles she said, "Hennessy XO will be fine." The bartender held up one finger, then two. She was aware of two eyes at either side looking intently as she discretely flashed two fingers back. The bartender smiled and poured the golden liquor into a snifter, first one measure, then another. Giving Mrs. Taylor a quick wink, her poured a bit extra and handed her the glass. She took it and gave it a slight lift in his direction, then took a generous sip. Show time, she thought. She let the liquor stay in her mouth, closed her eyes, sensuously inhaled over it and then let it go down slowly while she let her chest and shoulders relax. Opening her eyes, she murmured, "Exquisite... I've been waiting for this all day." 

She had been sitting at the bar for less than sixty seconds but she knew she was attracting stares. The man on her left, who had appeared at her first glance to be a decent looking guy, fit and well dressed, leaned over and said," As much as I'd like to stay and buy you another one, I do have to go." 

With that he stood up, handed the bartender a twenty and said, "That cognac is on me." Giving Mrs. Taylor a warm smile he said," Enjoy," and he managed to say it like he meant it. Mrs. Taylor just lifted her glass to him in salute and smiled. The man gave the guy on her right a quick but neutral glance and walked away.

The bartender pretended to be busy while Mrs. Taylor turned part way around and gave the bar a once over. It was now about nine in the evening and the place was only about one quarter full. There were a few tables with a couple of guys giving her the "join us" look but Mrs. Taylor instead gave the guy on her right a casual smile. "Hi, I'm Linda, and you are...?" as she held out her hand.

He was about fifty by her guess. He was in a suit that had seen better days and his shirt looked like it had been in the wash too many times. He was working on a middle aged spread and generally gave the impression of middle management and experienced at it. He was also wearing a wedding ring. He was looking a bit nervous and pleasantly surprised at the same time. "Hi there yourself, I'm Ken...but my friends all call me Clutch." He paused, as if a bit embarrassed. "I...I used to pitch. I was pretty good as a finisher...so...Clutch."

Mrs. Taylor smiled warmly and said, "I think that's a great nickname." She patted the seat beside her and he slid over. As he did, Mrs. Taylor took off her jacket, giving a little extra to 'The Thrusting of the Breasts' and the bartended casually took it and hung it up behind the end of the bar. 

"I'm here in town on business," she lied. "And did I have a rough day. My boss is adamant that I complete this deal and the client is being so...so...anal. Going over each word, trying to get this done for less than I've put into it, it's been so...frustrating." She gave him her "little helpless me" look and then took a very generous hit of the cognac. With slightly misted eyes and pretending not to be used to the stuff she said, "But I did it. It took all day but it's done, in the bag and I'm celebrating!" 

Clutch smiled and said, "Congratulations! Good for you. Just what is it you do?" 

"Oh, nothing special," she said with a casual nod of her head. "I represent a firm of business consultants...problem solvers...not me...I just go out and get an idea of what's happening and try to work out a contract for the firms services as...fixer uppers." She looked at him in the eyes and gave him a "so there" smile. She made a point of looking at her engagement ring, and then asked, "And you, what are you doing?"

"Oh...nothing special...I work just around the corner...at an insurance firm...I'm the contract insurance guy...making sure both sides have adequate coverage...if something goes wrong...I was working late today...had dinner with a client and thought I'd stop in here before I...went home." He gave her a wistful smile as if acknowledging he wasn't in her league. 

'Half way there, Mrs. Taylor...half way there,' she said silently. 

Mrs. Taylor was well practised in the art of deception. She led Clutch in a general banter of small talk, all the while sipping her cognac a little faster than might be appropriate. She slowly began to appear to be loosening up as the liquor took hold. As the minutes went by she spent more time looking Clutch directly in his eyes, smiling more and giving him the unmistakable impression that she was definitely 'out of town'. 

Mrs. Taylor knew that her non-verbal message was getting through. After telling a silly sexual joke, she tossed back the remaining cognac and said, "Clutch, let's get another drink and go sit at a booth. It'll be more comfortable and ...private." 

His eyes gave away his surprise as he said, "Sure...yeah...bartender, another one for the two of us." He fumbled for his wallet and Mrs. Taylor let him. Then with drinks in hand they went to the back and settled into a darken booth. 

"Say, Linda...I couldn't help noticing your ring...lucky guy...you're quite the catch." He immediately blushed at his possible faux pas. Mrs. Taylor smiled inwardly as he tossed out the obvious but unspoken question, 'Any chance you will cheat on your fiancé?' 

She gave him a reassuring touch on his forearm. "That's quite alright, Clutch. I like a guy who speaks his mind. And thank you. But I'm not so sure I'm a lucky girl..." She looked down and gave a slight sigh. 

"I don't understand...is there...a problem?" asked Clutch giving her his best 'I'm here for you' look. 

'Show time, part two', thought Mrs. Taylor.

"I'm...I'm...not sure my fiancé...is...committed to me...in fact, I'm pretty sure he isn't...this is so embarrassing..." She took a generous swallow as if trying to steady her nerves. 

"Are you sure," Clutch asked. "I mean...you're so...so beautiful...and successful...why would a guy...?" His voice trailed off. 

"Oh, I'm sure. At least I think I am," Mrs. Taylor said with an inner smile. "My friend...my best friend...told me...she has seen him with another girl...when I'm away on business. And I called him tonight earlier...at his place...he wasn't home...and he seldom is when...I'm gone. I really shouldn't be burdening you like this, I'm sorry."

Clutch immediately said, "Oh no, it's okay...it's good to talk...about things. I just wish there was something I could do for you...beat the stupid out of the guy or something." Mrs. Taylor noticed a definite improvement in his sense of self. Good.

"Well," she said, "I'm going to enjoy this drink, my success today and your company." She gave Clutch her "I'm going to be okay" smile and took another large hit of the cognac. "Goodness, if I keep this up...I'm going to get tipsy...but I don't care!" She straightened out her shoulders and said, "If I'm not good enough for him...well...take this, you jerk!" and she slid off her ring, slipped it into her purse and raised her glass to Clutch. "To freedom!" and tossed back the remaining liquor, allowed her self to cough and make a show of squeezing her eyes shut. "So, Clutch, how's your love life?"

"Linda, I think you'd better slow down. Two doubles and you're already tipsy." 

"So what?" she asked. "I'm going to go back home, have it out with the jerk and I might as well start the party right now. So, how's your love life?" 

Clutch looked a bit nervous. Linda put out her hand over his and said, "It's not like we're ever going to meet again...besides, you said it's good to talk." 

Clutch shook his head slightly, then looked at Mrs. Taylor and said, "Well...to tell you the truth...not so good." He paused and Mrs. Taylor remained silent. "The wife and I...married twenty years last summer...and it just doesn't seem...like it was...hard to explain, really...kind of like...just going through the motions." He paused again. Mrs. Taylor just nodded her head, encouraging him to go on. 

"Jeez...now I can't believe I'm telling you this..." He looked at her in her eyes and Mrs. Taylor gave him her best 'I'm here for you' smile as she gently squeezed his hand. "She won't talk about it...maybe its menopause...we sleep together but that's...well, that's it. Look at me. Now I'm so embarrassed."

Mrs. Taylor knew the answer to her next question would tell the tale. "Okay for one more, Clutch?" as she held up her empty glass. He looked at her for only a few seconds and made his decision.

"Why not?" He turned to the bar, caught the bartender's eye and signalled another round, then tossed back the last of his drink. 

"Well, Clutch, my new friend...here's to us..." she said dramatically, after the drinks arrived. They clinked the glasses together and grinned at each other like two high school students who had snuck away from the dance. Mrs. Taylor sat closer and let her thigh touch his. If he was upset by that, he didn't show it. In fact her thigh against his felt like warmth and he felt a stirring in his groin. He was starting to think that for the first time in twenty years he was going to get lucky. Mrs. Taylor put her glass on the table, squeezed her arms to her sides with her hands in front, accentuating her breasts and said, "You know, starting over isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Thank you, Clutch." 

"Oh, don't thank me...I'm just..." 

"No," she said in a lowered voice as she let her hands drift to his thigh, "I mean it. I came in here tonight feeling...unwanted...and you're making me feel so much better." 

He let his hand go to her thigh and said, "You know Linda, I'm feeling better as well and..." He paused as he felt her hand move up his thigh until it was barely inches from his package. Mrs. Taylor could feel that she was getting the desired result. She could feel his groin tighten and as she kept her hand there, his growing erection reached out under his pants and touched her. She felt his hand go up her thigh and she casually reached down to lift her dress hem slightly, inviting him further. His eyes were wide and uncertain but he continued until she felt his fingers move almost to her panty.

She looked at him with her best sincerity smile and gave her head a barely perceptible nod 'yes' and slightly parted her legs. With that, he moved slowly again until his fingers were cupping her vulva. 

The expression on his face was astonishing, as if he was having serious trouble believing this was happening. Mrs. Taylor expertly kept her face calm as she gave a blissful sigh and closed her eyes. She moved her hand slightly to move her fingers over his erection. 'Not bad', she thought. 'I'm sure I can get it bigger.' She opened her eyes and gazed into his. "Show me where you work," she whispered. 

He hesitated for only a second. "Yes," he managed to get out in a husky voice. "But...people here..." 

"It's okay," Mrs. Taylor whispered. "You get up, say good-bye and leave. I'll follow in ten minutes." 

"Okay...good idea..." He tossed back his drink like he was drinking his courage and stood up. "Well, it's been nice meeting you," in a voice a bit louder than necessary. "I hope your...meeting goes well tomorrow. Good night." Mrs. Taylor watched as he fumbled to discreetly try and hide his obvious bulge. 

"Yes, It's been good meeting you," she said with a warm but simple smile. Then in a conspiratorial whisper, she added, "Clutch, you've got me so...turned...on." 

Clutch realized he hadn't quite got his plan together and blushed deeply. Also in a whisper he said, "Go out the door and go left. At the end of the block, turn left and go down two blocks. I'll be waiting." 

"Good night then," Mrs. Taylor said in her normal voice. Clutch was so nervous he could hardly stop shaking. 

Mrs. Taylor was reasonably sure he would be waiting. She slowly sipped her cognac and wondered how she was going to play this guy. 'I'll just have to see how this goes,' she said to herself. She reached into her purse, got the ring and slipped it back on. As she sat quietly waiting, a guy from the front of the bar gave her a looking over, got up and headed her way. He gave her the usual "I'm vaguely interested" smile and asked, "All alone now? I thought that guy would never leave." 

Mrs. Taylor gave him a polite "no" smile and said, "I really have to be going now. Big day tomorrow...but thank you anyway." 

She walked up to the bar, was handed her jacket and she passed a twenty to the bartender. "I have to give someone something," and putting on her jacket, gave the man a knowing smile which he was professional enough not to give back.

Turning the corner, Mrs. Taylor could see Clutch by the streetlight, pacing back and forth two blocks down. She walked towards him with just a slightly exaggerated roll of her hips and watched as his eyes drank her in like she was cool water on a desert island. Clutch must have been very nervous because he moved well away from the light and tried to blend into the darkness of the shadows. 'My, my' thought Mrs. Taylor. 'This is going to be fun.'

On reaching Clutch, she took him in her arms and putting one leg up and around him, gave him a passionate kiss on his mouth. He held still but he body tensed. "Not here," he croaked.

Mrs. Taylor ran her hand over his still enlarged penis and said, "Okay." He looked around as if he was a spy and motioned to the building front door. Fumbling with his keys, he managed to unlock it and almost pulled her inside. Mrs. Taylor just let him have his anxieties and gave him another kiss, this time taking his hand and holding it to her breast. 

He gulped and managed to say, "Upstairs...elevator...over here." He punched the elevator button like he was being chased by the Hounds of Hell. Mrs. Taylor could almost hear him thinking, 'Come on...come on...'

In the elevator, Mrs. Taylor clamped her mouth over his and massaged his penis. His hand flew to her dress and under, than went straight for her labia, stroking his finger up and down. Mrs. Taylor gave him a deep moan and let her head go back. He attacked her neck with his mouth and for a second, she was worried about an adolescent hickey. The elevator stopped and as the door opened, he took her hand and led her down the darkened hallway, stopping in front of a set of glass double doors with 'Craigleigh and Fisher-Insurance Brokers' on the door in gold paint. Again, he fumbled with the keys and finally got one door open. Mrs. Taylor stepped in feigning lust and closed the door, locking it. "Clutch...take me...take me now...I'm so hot for you..." 


Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 01



The wide eyed man just mumbled something about "my office" and back into the darkness they went. He stopped in front of a door that Mrs. Taylor could see had the words "Ken Rowling-Broker" on it. 'Good', she thought, 'a last name.' 

Clutch was now so turned on he took three tries to get his office key in the lock. 'My God', thought Mrs. Taylor. 'The guy is going to come in his pants!' He opened the door and looked at Mrs. Taylor with wild abandon. She stepped in and as he turned around from closing and locking the door, she got down in her best down on her haunches, feet on the floor, hooker pose and went for his belt and zipper. Unhooking his pant button, she pulled down his pants and his shorts, pulled her hair back over her shoulder a la porn star and took his penis into her mouth. 

Clutch stood there like an idiot in the feint light of the outside city, pants around his shoes and just groaned. In only thirty seconds his penis was probably firmer and thicker than it had been in years. She rolled her tongue around the head and shaft, took it in deep and did her best $250 blow job routine. She stroked the shaft with her closed hand, licked it up and down and even went low to take a ball into her mouth. Mrs. Taylor guessed that Clutch had never had a blow job like this. 

He was groaning, his body was trembling and when his penis went in total deep throat he just gasped. "Oh my God...oh my God..." His body started to spasm and with a heavy grunt, he came in Mrs. Taylor's mouth. She swallowed and swallowed again, then gently sucked him from base to head leaving the head in her mouth as she looked up to see him looking down. She gave him her porn star doe eye look and softly smiled with his penis still in her mouth. 

Mrs. Taylor slowly stood up and said, "Take everything off, Clutch and we'll see what kind of...a finisher you are."

Clutch was not certain what was going to happen next but he came to his senses and stepped out of his pants and started to take off the rest of his clothes. While he did that, Mrs. Taylor made a show off slowly reaching under her dress with one hand, leaving her other hand to her mouth, one finger inside. She slowly and sensuously worked her panties down and stepped out of them, leaving her dress in place. She kept on her jacket. She then moved back to his desk, pushed aside some papers and sat on it. Clutch was just getting his socks off when she lifted up her dress, exposing her smooth shaven labia. He stared at her eyes and then at her legs, one up on the desk and then locked his eyes on the sexual feast that awaited him. 

She leaned back and motioned him to come closer. He moved in, eyes glued to her femininity, got down on his knees and put his mouth to her vulva. Mrs. Taylor gave him a long, low moan and let her head fall back, offering herself to his mouth. He started to kiss and lick her labia, her inner thighs and then he parted her labia and put his tongue hesitantly to her vaginal opening. 

"Yesss..." she moaned. He moved the tip of his tongue in and out as best he could. Then she felt him licking up and down her opening and generally making it clear that he didn't have a clue about eating pussy. She wondered if he even knew what a clitoris was as he was ignoring hers. She realized that oral sex wasn't on the menu at home. She blamed Mrs. Rowland for that. She then realized that she may have just given the middle aged man his first blow job. While keeping up some moans of feigned ecstasy, she almost burst out laughing. 'I'm just going to have to let this guy waste my time until he has another hard on,' she thought derisively.

"Yes, baby...yes...just like that...ohhh...you are so good...you're driving me wild." She sat forward a few times to wrap her arms around his neck and hold his mouth tight to her somewhat bored clitoris. 'Jesus H. Christ...are you that dense?' she thought. 'Lick the damn thing. That's what it's there for.' 

She rocked his mouth up and down on her clitoris and after what seemed like ten minutes she finally felt a bit of swelling. "Oh my God, Clutch...don't stop...don't stop...' and he finally seemed to figure it out. "Yes!!...yes!!...right there...like that....suck my clit....suck that little clit..." 

Mrs. Taylor wanted to put on an encouraging show for the guy but was sceptical as to her ability to come for the klutz. So she gently eased his head down to get his tongue going on her vag again and put two fingers to her clitoris and started masturbating. Clutch seemed to pause, not knowing what was happening so she said, "Don't stop...oh my God...don't stop." And he didn't. 

The thought of how she had seduced the guy and how she was going to give him a finish he wouldn't be happy with was about the only thing that was turning her on. Working her own clit, she started to feel it build. 'It'll probably be just a little one but he's not going to think so,' she thought. She started moving her hips, rolling and grinding against his face, moaning more and more. "Make me come, baby...make me come...oh God, don't stop...yes...yes!" 

She wrapped her legs around his head and squeezed his mouth tight to her vulva. Rocking back and forth she let herself make some more unwarranted noises. She started to grunt, then took some gasping breathes. Her own fingers were the source of her heightening pleasure but she wasn't sure if he knew that. When she caught him glancing up as best he could, she let her eyes roll and her head flop around. 'Fucking porn star performance,' she thought. 

She was getting close and in an effort to finish herself, she mentally visualized one of her recent sexual sessions with her husband and a guy they picked up. She was him, facing him with his penis in her vagina, while her husband was behind her with his penis in her ass. The other guy was barely able to move so her husband as providing the serious fucking. He was always able to read her like a book in these situations, steadily speeding up, slowing down, bringing her close to one of her volcanic anal orgasms, then backing off until he felt she was about to lose it. As her husband was pumping her to his big finish, she was looking in the other guy's eyes. Often she saw and thrilled to the look of amazement that the guy was giving her, knowing that he knew he wasn't able to ass fuck anything like her husband. In her mental image, she was close and she let her present feed on that.

"Yes!! Yes!! Suck my pussy!! Suck that thing!! She was almost howling now and she could feel Clutch desperately trying to finish her off. Idiot!! With her last few finger massages of her clit, she remembered the final strokes of her husband in her ass and she came. She bucked a few times and let out a few explosive vulgarities. "Shit!! Shit!! I'm dying!! Shit!!" Then, "Stop!! I can't take anymore!! You're killing me!!" 

'Jesus H. Christ!' she thought. 'He's useless!' The fake enthusiasm seemed like a good way to get his face away from her vulva.

Clutch seemed to buy it as he pulled his head back and looked up at Mrs. Taylor with a wicked grin on his face. "Oh, baby," she said. "Come here! You were fantastic! As he stood up, she did as well and reached for his penis. Not too surprisingly, it was nearly fully erect. She stood close to him, massaging his penis and started to talk. "Ready for me now, baby? Ready to bury that thick, thick cock deep in my warm, wet pussy?" 

He just grunted something resembling 'yes'. 

"Want to fuck me, baby? Want to fuck my little hot bod? Want to pump me till I die? Want to bury your big, thick cock in me and fuck me like you own me" If the guy was harbouring any doubts about cheating on his wife in his own office, Mrs. Taylor was dissolving them. 

"Fuck me, baby...fuck me and don't stop fucking me," she murmured as she took his hand and put it to her vagina. "My sweet little pussy wants you...so...bad..." and with that she planted her mouth on his and gave him what was likely the most sexually impassioned kiss of his life. 'Damn, I'm good!' Mrs. Taylor thought to herself. 

Clutch was ready. More than ready as he was now even thicker and harder than before. 'It's what happens when you fuck a real slut for the first time,' she said to herself. 'It's the magic of the power of suggestion.' 

Suddenly, he blushed and looked stricken. "Oh my God...I don't have...a..." 

"I do, baby. Do you think any less of me for carrying condoms?" 

"Oh no...no..." he stammered. Mrs. Taylor reached for her purse, took out a condom, opened it with her teeth and proceeded to give the man the "hooker wrap job". By the time the condom was fully on, Clutch was trembling again. Mrs. Taylor, who still had on all of her clothes except her panties, reached into her purse again and took out a small packet of lube. 

She opened it and slowly squeezed it out onto his condom wrapped penis then sensuously rubbed it all over his now throbbing cock. Looking wantonly into his eyes, she thought,' just in case he bores me to dryness.' Then she seductively said, "Tell me if you've seen this before," and she turned around, pulled her dress up well past her waist and lay face down on the desk, eased her legs apart and taking her ass cheeks, spread them while sensuously arching her back, giving him the classic 'Ass in the Air' pose. 

"Uhh...well...no...not really," stammered Clutch and he moved in to put his cock where he ached to put it. 

"Not yet, baby...when a girl does this...she wants a little...attention..." she said in her best Mae West Imitation. Clutch gazed at the garden of heavenly delight before him and paused. Then he got down on his knees and started to kiss and lick over Mrs. Taylor's succulent ass. "Ohh...I knew you were going to be good...now be very, very bad..." she huskily intoned. "As bad as you can, lover...be my bad, bad boy..."

Silently laughing at the sexually tormented man, Mrs. Taylor felt the first hesitant touch of his tongue to her clean and tart asshole. "Ummm...yes, baby, be bad..." Clutch quickly overcame any aversion he had to anal and started to lick and probe with his tongue tip. Mrs. Taylor moved a bit to give him closer access and he responded by getting a bit of his tongue into her bud. "What you're doing to me..." she moaned. 'And what I'm doing to you', she thought. "Down, lover...play with my pussy...it wants some sugar too..."

Clutch seemed happier with that and gave a fair account for a guy who had likely never been presented with this particular opportunity before. "Make me so wet for you...make me drip with my love potions..." With increasing fervour, he did his best. His tongue was working her labia and probing into her vagina. 

"Oh, yes baby...a little more bad would make me feel so good..." As she felt his tongue push against her ass bud, she was able to relax her sphincter and he managed a reasonable tongue entry. "A bit faster, baby...tongue fuck my ass...it gets me so...so...hot..." 

Mrs. Taylor settled and let him work his new found skills. She looked ahead and saw on the corner of his desk, a framed photo of a woman, two girls and a dog that even in the dim light, looked like a Golden Retriever. 'Humm...family...good...' she thought. 

"Baby...I can't wait any longer...I'm so, so wet and ready..." and she arched her back, reached under and spread her labia. "Right there, baby...right there...it's time for you to do me...fuck me...just fucking fuck me..."

Clutch was more than ready to comply. For a guy that had probably never fucked doggy before, he didn't need any lessons. Mrs. Taylor's vagina couldn't be missed and he guided his penis in straight and true. She gave him a complimentary gasp as his penis slid in. 

Clutch gasped as well. "Hold on...Linda," he said, obviously having temporarily forgotten her name. "You're gonna get...fucked...like you've never been fucked..." 

'Truer words have never been spoken,' Mrs. Taylor thought to herself. "Oh my God...you fill me baby...you fill me so good..." she said, half truthfully as he held his cock steady and deep, drinking in the pleasure. Then he started to fuck, slow and steady. He looked down to see his penis moving in that luscious vagina and felt a thrill he hadn't felt for decades. 

Mrs. Taylor could feel him tremble. "Take your time, lover...we have all night..." Mrs. Taylor lied. 

Clutch had never had a sexual encounter this good. He decided to try and prolong the pleasure by not getting too excited. He slowly moved his penis in and out, pausing to luxuriate in the vision and the sensation. "What a sweet, sweet lover you are, baby...your cock is so good in me..." Mrs. Taylor oozed. "...love that slow stretch from your thick, thick cock..." 'A small fib, no harm done,' Mrs. Taylor thought. 

Clutch let his penis come out, paused and felt the awesome pleasure of entering her vagina, again and again. "Oh, baby...you know what I like...do it...slow and deep...' Mrs. Taylor murmured with as much false passion as she could summon. "...yes...stretch me, baby...again and again..."

Clutch could feel his orgasm wasn't far away, even with the slow fucking. The woman in front of him was so God damned sexy, he thought. He slowed down more and just held himself deep in her luxurious vagina. It was so much tighter and sexier than his wife's childbirth stretched and stitched offering. That is, when she deigned to offer it. 

Mrs. Taylor gave her well practiced pelvic muscles a few squeezes and he moaned. "Oh God, Linda...don't make me come too soon. You are so, so..." 

"Say it, lover...say it for me..." 

"You are so fucking...beautiful...you've got the...ass a guy could die for..." Mrs. Taylor gave him some slow gentle pelvic muscle massage and he groaned and was biting his tongue...then withdrew. "Sorry, Linda, but when you do that..." He was trying to control his breathing, calming himself. 

'Thank God,' he thought as his rising orgasm subsided. Just gazing at the vision of sexual beauty in front of him was keeping him close to the edge. 

"It's okay, baby...take your time...enjoy...enjoy...maybe I can let you have a break."

Clutch moved back and watched his cock come out of her vagina. Mrs. Taylor stood up and looked around the room. There was one reasonably comfortable looking chair in the corner, likely for clients. She got up and walked over, pulled it to the centre of the room and sat down, pulling her dress up and splaying one leg over the arm of the chair. "Come here, lover...I want to show you something. See this little bud here?' as she pointed to her clitoris. 

The room was just not light enough, so she took his finger and put it to her clitoris. "Didn't your wife ever tell you about these? They're magic." Clutch felt like blushing but she carried on. "Just give this, my clit, some sweet gentle sucking. And while you're doing that I want you to put two fingers in me and...I'll talk you through it." 

Clutch just got down on his knees and murmured, "Okay." 

Mrs. Taylor lay back in the chair and let him give her clit some well deserved attention. She closed her eyes and let herself go relaxed. 'Perhaps I can teach this guy to really make me come,' she thought. Clutch put his lips to her clit and started to suck. "Gentle at first, baby... just like a real baby would suck mommy's nipples...yes...just like that.

'He catches on quick,' she thought as he did exactly what he was told. "Above the bud...feel a bit of a shaft...a woman's shaft...lick up and down, gentle and sweet." 'Yes,' she thought, 'this just might work.'

After several minutes, Mrs. Taylor was feeling much better about her chances. "Lover...I want you to wet a finger and enter me...yes...just stroke a bit...slow..." Her vagina was feeling much better as well. "Now... a second finger...yes...good...now, listen to me...I want you to turn your hand palm up...that's right...now bend those fingers so they point up...yes...oh, yess...now, the magic part...stroke the top of my pussy...just inside a bit...oh, you are good...that's my G spot and it is a woman's magic button...sometimes it takes a while...but just keep going...and keep my clit happy too...now you're cooking...oh yeah...this is heaven for a woman...how are you feeling, lover?"

"Never...felt...better..."he answered and Mrs. Taylor knew it was true.

Mrs. Taylor let her mind wander to wonderful places. She pictured herself with two other women, one she was laying back against while she sweet talked and caressed her breasts. The other was between her legs, giving her heaven like only a woman can. She lay there relaxed as the waves of pleasure washed over and through her. She had already had two glorious Big Os and was slowly climbing to a third. The woman behind her was murmuring, "I can feel you...I can feel you breathing...your heart beating...I can feel your inner self...warmer...warmer...the warmth in your centre...flowing out from your centre...fullness in your centre...warm and soft...it is coming to take you again...let it fill you...let it flow...from your deepest centre...to your heart...to my heart..." Mrs. Taylor was half there and half before Clutch. 

"Tell me lover...notice anything...inside me...?" Mrs. Taylor asked, not sure if the guy was bright enough to figure it out. 

"Yes...I think you...it's a bit different now...your pu...your vagina where I'm rubbing...it's...firmer now...kind of like..." 

"Ridges?" Mrs. Taylor offered. 

"Yes...like that...wow..." 

"It means you're doing it right, baby...my G spot likes you..." 

"And I like your G spot, Linda." 

Mrs. Taylor gave a soft gentle laugh. "I'm glad lover...very glad..." 

She drifted back to her threesome and listened to her lover coax her to heaven again. 'I love you, Dee...I really love you...fill for me...' Mrs. Taylor murmured, 'I love you too, Anne.' And she meant it. Claire, precious, precious Claire, between her legs was applying her expert skill and Mrs. Taylor just took slow deep breathes as her pelvic chakra was swelling and swelling, filling her whole body with the warm, firm pressure of her feminine love. Her pelvis was starting to move before she was aware of it. Anne, behind her just rocked with her, whispering the words as her hands massaged her breasts. Mrs. Taylor just worked with her breathing, letting it get deeper and a slight bit faster. Her pelvis was moving well now. Claire was making affirmative sounds as she felt the pressure in the centre before her rising.

Mrs. Taylor came back to Clutch and was happy to feel her pelvis doing the dance. "I...I might get physical, baby...it happens...stay with me...oh my god...you're doing it lover..." 

Mrs. Taylor felt certain it was working. Her sense of pelvic heat and pressure was climbing and her breathing was getting deep. "Oh yes, baby...don't stop...don't fucking stop...here it comes...oh God...oh God..." Her pelvis was gyrating and she was afraid she would lose Clutch but he was still there. 

Mrs. Taylor was squealing now...her pelvic was starting to spasm...she took a couple of short gasping breathes and...came like it was her women with her. "Yes!! Yes!! Harder!!" 

She felt his fingers pressing so hard it felt almost like pain. The climax was still pouring and it hit her with one, then two and finally three convulsive spasms. She was screaming now, a deep primal howl and it stayed until her lungs were empty. For a few seconds she couldn't inhale. Then with a last convulsive gasp, she took in air and put her hand to her vulva to protect it. She collapsed back against the chair and just let her chest heave as she caught her breathe. Except for her heavy breathing, she was silent. 

Clutch looked at her as he stood up. His eyes were wide with amazement. "Did I do that?" he mumbled.

Mrs. Taylor was surprised herself. She hadn't considered that a middle aged neophyte like Clutch could do that to her, even with her fantasies working overtime. She opened her eyes and gazed up at him standing above her. After a minute she finally spoke. "I'm impressed, lover...very, very impressed." 'A small lie but what the hell', she thought. 




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 01



"Me too," was all he said. "Me too."

Mrs. Taylor stretched like a cat and got up. She looked at his still wrapped penis which was in need of attention. She dropped into her hooker BJ pose again and took the fully erect penis into her mouth. Clutch just sighed and gazed down as she played with his penis until it was again twitching with expectations. "You want to know something, lover?" she asked as she stood up. 

He just asked "what" with his eyes.

"I want you to fuck me," and she got back on the desk, face down and got settled with her beautiful ass spread and ready. Her orgasmic fluids were thick, creamy and white. Clutch had never seen anything like it. "Go for it, baby," she oozed. "I'm ready to be fucked. You've got me so ready for you, baby. Now come here and fuck that pussy of mine."

Clutch's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Oh yeah...oh yeah..."

He moved in, held his penis ready and slipped in, luxuriating in the slipperiness of that magic fluid. Mrs. Taylor sighed with real emotion this time and just settled in to be fucked. "I've had mine, baby...this is for you...any way you want it..." He accepted her gift and started to stroke in her well lubricated vagina. 

Clutch felt her to be warmer now, richer, softer yet firmer. It was the most luxuriously, heavenly vagina he had ever encountered. In truth, it was only the second in his life, never having had sex with any woman other than his wife. But she had never been like this. She had never made him feel like he was being pleasured. She had from the beginning balked at oral sex, and pretty much anything other than the missionary position. And here he was, fucking the ass of the century. She was fully clothed from the waist up and he couldn't have cared less. What he craved was right in front of him and she was okay with anything. He was living out every older man's fantasy. She was a stunning, nubile younger woman, with a body like a Greek Goddess, the face of an angel and the heart of a harlot. He looked at her as she lay on the desk, her face to the side, resting her head. 

She had a gentle smile, a Mona Lisa smile, and he knew she was enjoying it too. He just steadily moved in her, full in, almost full out, steady and he finally felt like a...like a stud. 'There,' he said it silently to himself. 'I'm a stud!'

As if Mrs. Taylor could read his mind, she just murmured happily and he kept on fucking her. Little by little, he picked it up. At first his hips were just coming against her ass with a gentle push. Then he felt her bumping with his thrusts and he heard a wondrous sound as his hips slapped into her perfect ass. 

Perfect ass... yes...she certainly had the perfect ass. He thought about one of his long held, deep, secret fantasies and imagined his penis, slowly sliding into her perfect asshole. The thought thrilled him and he felt his erection go to 110%. 'Any way you want it', she had said, 'any way you want it.' 

Mrs. Taylor considered herself a keen judge of men and she was convinced she knew what Clutch was thinking. She had gotten him to give her oral to her ass as a planted seed and she was sure it was germinating. One way to find out. "Baby...any way you want it...remember...any way at all...fuck my ass if you want to...any way at all...yeah, that's it...fuck my ass...fuck my...tight...little...ass..." She gave him a little booty shake, just to make sure he was paying attention.

Clutch eased out of her precious vagina and just stared at that forbidden fruit. He hesitated for a second and then gently touched a finger tip to her offered and beautifully displayed bud. Mrs. Taylor just got up smiling and said, "Give me a second." 

She reached for her purse and took out another packet of lube. She looked at him with a gentle grin. "It works best with lots of lube, you go slow and don't push to hard at first. It takes a bit for me to...accept you...okay?" raising her eyebrows. 

Clutch didn't know what to say and just nodded "yes". Already he felt like his throbbing penis was going to go off before he even got near. He was trembling with the forbidden excitement. Mrs. Taylor gave him a reassuring kiss and said, "You'll be fine. I'll walk you through it." 

She gave him the lube and got back over the desk. Her dress was out of the way and she arched her back so sensuously that Clutch again feared he would come on the spot. "Put the lube right on my hole and some on you." He did. "Now, I want you to get me ready...one finger at first" 

Clutch took a second to understand, then blushed to himself, put a finger tip to her lovely bud and gently held it there. "Feel me give a bit...the steady pressure does that." Clutch felt a slight lowering of her tone and his finger tip eased in. "Perfect," she said, "and now just move it a bit, round and round...think slow stretch...yes...good...now, one more finger...slow...wait..." 

Again, Clutch could feel her ring relax a bit and his second finger eased in. He was amazed to discover that this preparation was calming him down. 'I might just get to come in her ass after all,' he thought. 

He moved his two fingers, trying to keep the stretching pressure steady. "You really don't know how incredible this feels," murmured Mrs. Taylor and meant it. An anal seduction was one of her favourite seductions and she was looking forward to his cock up her ass as his ass now belonged to her. She sighed gently and just accepted his finger movement. 

She lay there for a quiet minute and then said, "Okay...one more...and more lube if you can...too much is perfect" He squeezed the last of it onto his third finger and this time he felt confident in his technique. He held it there, with gentle pressure and it took a bit longer but once again, her ass ring just seemed to want his three fingers in there. 

"Okay, baby...slowly...slowly go deep until your knuckles are stopping you." As he did, she let out a low, almost guttural moan and she let her whole body go relaxed. "Slowly...back and forth, baby...in and out...you'll know when I'm ready for you...you'll feel it" 

Clutch wondered what he had done to deserve this evening. He felt like he had been given the gift of a night with a five thousand dollar hooker, the very best high-class call girl in the city. As he moved his three fingers in her now relaxed ass, he could sense that she was ready. He kept up the fingering just for the joy of fingering her awesome ass. He felt his erection had actually fallen off but wasn't worried a bit. He just pictured his cock where his fingers were and he felt the desired effect. His fingers slid effortless in her and he now understood anal lubrication. His condom wrapped penis was nicely lubed from both the previous packet and her incredible girl come. He had heard some women produce the stuff with orgasm but his wife never had. 'My wife...what would she think?' He easily put that thought aside and got ready to fuck a sex goddess in the ass. 

Mrs. Taylor sensed he was ready and she reached back and spread her cheeks, giving him a clear target. He moved in, adjusted his stance until his cock was perfectly aligned with her ass ring and...eased forward. 

Mrs. Taylor was breathing easy and steady. Clutch knew she was relaxing for him. He held his cock head to her ring and waited. He was in no rush and he wanted this to go well. He felt Linda ease back against him, her ring seemed to relax slightly and he was happy to give her steady pressure back. 

"You're doing just fine, baby...perfect...let it happen." He felt a certainty that it was all good and with Linda easing back just a bit harder, he felt it start to happen. He could see her ring relaxing. He could see her muscles softening. He eased ahead ever so slightly. 

"Gentle baby...just like that." Half of his cock head seemed to be inside and as he watched with mounting joy, his cock head eased in and Linda softly asked him to go in just an inch or so. As he did, he felt his cock head ease through a firmly tight bit and then...he seemed to move past and the pressure was slightly less. "Oh my, baby, you did that well. Sure you've never done this before?" 

"God no," he honestly answered. "This is incredible. I can't believe it. I'm actually..."

"You can say it, baby," Mrs. Taylor murmured. "Go ahead and say it."

"I'm...I'm..." started Clutch. "I'm...fucking you in the ass. Sweet Jesus...I'm fucking you in your ass! God, this feels so...good! So...fucking...good!" He was now very slowly moving, his cock smoothly gliding in a woman's ass for the very first time.

"What was that first bit...I felt..." He couldn't quite explain. 

"Lover, that's the ass. It has a short ring of thicker muscle, and as your head moved through, your shaft, which isn't as thick, feels the tightness a bit less. You're in baby...you're in my ass...fucking my ass..." 

Clutch had to suppress the urge to give a victory cry. He stared down in utter amazement. His cock was in a girl's ass. His cock was fucking in a girl's ass! It was right there...in her ass, and what an ass. He felt it was time to move a bit more. 

"Slow and easy," Mrs. Taylor cautioned. "I'll let you know when you can pick it up...okay, baby?" 

'Anything you say, Linda, anything you say,' he said silently and he started to ever so gently rock against her. 

He could feel when his cock head came back against the muscle ring. 'God,' he thought. 'A guy's cock was made for this. Why the fuck hadn't Kate let me do this? I'm her husband, God Damn It. She fucking well better get used to it because, I'm gonna fucking well...fuck...her...up...her...God...Damned...ass. God damned right I am!'

He moved gently, rocking only an inch or two back and forth, slow, slow, slow. He was amazed that he hadn't come right away. In fact he felt like he could keep this up a while. As he moved, Linda was softly sighing. "Feels so...so...so good, baby...God, I love a guy who'll fuck my ass!" 

Clutch wondered about her ex-fiancé but kept it to himself. Maybe Linda was the one who strayed. After all, she seemed to be hyper sexed. At least by his limited comparison. His wife...what would she say? 'Well, Kate, you never let me have this at home...so I'm getting it take-out.' That made him chuckle. Take-out. He moved back, feeling that ring constrain his head and he hesitated. 

"It's good, baby...it's all good," encouraged Mrs. Taylor. 

He felt the delicious tightness as his cock head was constricted and gazed as it appeared at the entrance to her ass. He carefully kept it part way in and slowly moved forward. Her ass seemed to want it deeper and he felt less constriction this time. He looked at her face, eyes closed and a look of bliss on her face. 'Wow,' he thought. 'Girls...some girls...really get off on this'. 

He wasn't sure if there was a limit to depth. He eased forward slowly. Linda was unchanged, so he eased into her more. Her smile was still bliss, so he eased in more and was thrilled to see his hips tight against her cheeks. He was in all the way. He began once more to feel like a sex stud. 'I'm the man. I'm fucking this girl's ass and I'm in deep.'

Mrs. Taylor stirred and moved her head to the other side. "Fuck me, lover," she murmured. "Fuck me up my ass...you won't hurt me now...I'm all ready for you." 

'Oh my God,' thought Clutch. 'Here I go.' 

He started to rock in and out, deep in and out to the ring. It was tighter than her vagina, yet for some reason, the tightness didn't translate into more sensation...just different sensation. He had the thought to do something he had seen in a porn video, viewed on the road, well away from his wife. He slowly eased out and watched as her ring stayed partly open. He re-entered and felt that rush of tightness again. More steady rocking and then all out again. He just went in and completely out for half a dozen times, enjoying the sight and the sensation of his cock penetrating a woman's ass.. 

"Having fun, baby? I am." 

"Oh God, Linda...this is unbelievable...this is so good...I'm actually..." 

"You can say it, baby. Say it" 

He chuckled. "Yes. I can. I'm fucking you in the ass, Linda." He gave her a few more solid thrusts, in deep and bumping her forward. "It feels so good, baby...it's so good." Clutch was starting to feel like this was life on cocaine. "I'm fucking your ass, Linda. Oh my God! I'm doing it. I'm in your ass and I love it!" 

Mrs. Taylor was feeling very good about things. Clutch was doing a credible job with his first anal fuck and she was actually starting to feel a little heat. "Oh yeah, baby...do it to me...do it in my ass..." 

Clutch was feeling very good. He was amazingly able to keep going with out the sensation of impending orgasm. Why, he had no clue, but he was very happy with it. 

Mrs. Taylor rose up on her elbows and this lessened the arch in her back. Clutch kept up the fucking and for some reason the slight change of angle with less back arching seemed to stimulate Linda in a whole new way. "Fuck, this is good!!" she called out. "You can fuck my ass anytime, baby! My ass is yours. Fuck it!"

Clutch was now having serious thoughts about her story of the wayward fiancé, but he didn't care. 'This girl is the best fuck of my life. I don't care if she's a hooker on holidays.' And with that he started breathing a bit harder. 

"Fucking you, Linda, I'm fucking you...fucking your ass, girl." He never dared speak to his wife this way during sex. But then, compared to what was happening in here, what he did with his wife on occasion, didn't qualify.

Mrs. Taylor wanted one last position. "Baby...baby...stop a sec... let me turn around." Clutch withdrew and she turned to face him, sitting on the edge of the desk. He bent his knees but it seemed her ass was now too low. 

Mrs. Taylor thought so as well and said, "Get a cushion off that chair." He quickly did and she put it under her ass, wiggled a bit to get closer to the edge and said," Better...now one more time, lover."

Clutch held his cock, moved in and put it to her ass. 'Come on...come on,' he felt himself thinking. In only seconds that seemed like minutes, his cock was sliding back into Linda's ass. He started slow again, but built up speed. 

"Yeah, baby...oh yeah," encouraged Mrs. Taylor. This newer angle seemed to be sending her. His cock was at full erection, slightly up and her ass was right there. "Fuck me, baby...fuck me like you paid for me...fuck that ass for me..." She leaned back and now his cock was in her ass but aimed up to her vagina. He couldn't understand it but this seemed like raw sexual power to her. She even pulled her legs up, and Clutch was in his final minute. 

The overwhelming sexuality of it all had gone to his head. The sounds she was making and her facial expressions were like an aphrodisiac. He was losing it and he began to groan. "Oh Kate, oh Kate," and he stopped in his tracks, realizing he had called out his wife's name. 

Mrs. Taylor was not surprised and didn't care. "It's okay, baby...don't stop...God, don't stop...just keep fucking me!"

Clutch thanked his lucky stars and did what he was told. He was staring at his cock, moving rapidly back and forth in Linda's ass, his hips slapping her cheeks. She was gasping and holding her legs back as far as she could. There was her incredible vagina and it was empty. His cock was filling her other hole and she was screaming, "Gonna come!! Gonna come!! Holy shit...Holy shit...fuckin' comin'...comin', baby..."

Clutch was teetering on the edge. This felt so different he wasn't sure what to expect. 'You're gonna come, you idiot! Right up her ass!' he realized and he felt Linda's ass start to clamp down on his cock. She was sucking air through clenched teeth. The pressure around his cock was...almost painful. He couldn't move in her now. He felt the pressure build and build and build. Linda threw her head back and howled. 

Her anal ring felt like it was going to cut off his cock. He exploded in the most powerful orgasm of his life. He felt a stab of pain go through his cock, like it was being crushed. His body was trying to ejaculate but Linda's ass was too tight. She relaxed for a half a second and he felt more come pour into the condom than he thought possible. The pain...no, pleasure was unbelievable. He stared at the base of his cock, buried in Linda's ass and felt spurt after spurt of cum. 

Linda's ass was clamped like a vice. She was saying, "Oh my God...oh my God," over and over. Clutch felt like his whole body was melting. He stared into Mrs. Taylor's face and watched as she stared back at him, her eyes narrowed and unseeing. 

Clutch was spent. His legs were like rubber. As much as he wanted his cock to stay in that heavenly ass forever, he had to withdraw. He collapsed onto the cushion less chair and just gasped for air. Linda was lying flat on her back on the desk, the cushion on the floor and her legs dangling over the edge. Her dress was bunched up under her and her vulva was there to see. Clutch just gazed at it, knowing he would never see it again. She was saying, "I don't believe it. I don't believe it." 

She looked over at Clutch, managed to sit up on the desk and repeated it. "I don't believe it. I never thought...that you would...be able to do that...to me." She gave him a sly look and said, "I guess the wife is in for some new experiences. These new skills you have...really ought to perk up her sex drive."

Clutch just groaned, knowing that the chances of fucking his wife in the ass were non-existent. "Yeah...she's gonna...love this...

Mrs. Taylor stood up, looked around and found her panties. She stepped into them, pulled them up and she was dressed. She shook out her dress, ran her hands through her wig and picked up her purse. She was ready to leave. Clutch was still nude and wasn't sure if he had the energy to get dressed. 

Mrs. Taylor looked at him. "I'd better get going, Ken. You should probably stay here for a while. Best to be discreet, I think." 

Ken couldn't think of anything to say. He was still coming down from the orgasm of his life. He smiled. Her hand was on the door, unlocking it. She turned and said, "Good-bye Ken", and she was out the door. 

Mrs. Taylor waked through the office, unlocked the glass door and headed for the elevator. She found herself humming that aria from Don Giovanni. On the way down , she was regaining her perspective. That had been fun. Far more fun than she had expected. Ken really turned out to be a good fuck. 

She unlocked the front door and headed back towards the bar. Just beyond the bar she spotted a late night drug store. She walked to it and found a pay phone. She dialled for directory assistance. She deliberately messed with the automatic operator and got a real one. 

"How may I help you?" 

"A local residential number please, for Ken Rowland."

"I don't see a Ken Rowland. I do have a K and K Rowland on west seventeenth."

"That would be it, thank you."

"Please deposit twenty-five cents."

Mrs. Taylor put a quarter in the payphone and in a few seconds the number was ringing. Ken was a much better fuck than she had originally sized him up for, but she still had her principles. The phone was answered and a female voice said, "Hello."

"Hello. Is this Kate Rowland?"

A slight pause, then, "Yes...who is this?" 

"Oh Mrs. Rowland, we don't know each other, but I met your husband Ken at the Bull Pen bar this evening." 

Again, there was a pause. "What's this about and who are you?"

"I'm Linda. I hit on your husband tonight and got him to take me to his office at the insurance company. He fucked me doggy style while I was across his desk. He did so well, I let him finish in my ass. Clutch really is a good finisher. By the way, that's a nice photo of you and the kids on his desk. Is that a Golden Retriever? 

Silence.

"I love Golden Retrievers. I've just had your husband. Do you think I can have your dog?" There was just stony silence. " No...well that's okay. Ken should be home in about half an hour. Bye." She hung up. 




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 02



Mrs. Taylor laughed to herself as she walked away from the phone booth. The good Mr. Rowland was in deep shit and he was going to find out soon. A good start to her evening she thought as she headed towards the bar to get a cab. There was one waiting and she stepped in, giving the driver the name of her hotel. Once in her room, she got out of her clothes, pausing to give her panties a sniff. Ahh...the sweet smell of sex. She took off her wig and had a quick rinse in the shower. It was still early, only eleven. She got into another outfit, more suitable for the club scene. Vivid red dress, that was barely legal at both ends over a fresh set of silk panties and bra. The same shoes, fresh pale red stockings, another three dabs of Chanel No.5, simple earrings, no necklace, a wedding band, her own hair and she was done. She didn't want a purse, so she got out her secret purse, a small Velcro closing wallet barely big and thick enough for her room card, a credit card and a medium supply of cash in hundreds. It wrapped around her upper thigh and was invisible unless she felt like flashing some guy with a panty shot. 

The club she had in mind was a short cab ride away. On the way over she wondered if Ken was home yet and what was going to happen. 'If she's smart, she'll accept what happened and get her brains fucked out for the next ten years,' she thought. 'But maybe she's not smart.' 

The club was a typical trendy place for the young and bothered. Lots of flashing light, an under lit dance floor, head pounding music and people out to party. There was a line up to get in. It usually wasn't a problem. She walked up to the beefy doorman and handed him a hundred dollar bill. As he took it, she grasped his hand and flipping up her dress, put it to her pussy and said, "I really want to get in". He smiled and in she went without a glance back at the great unwashed. Inside, she paused to get a feel for the place. It was, as expected, a place to either tease or get laid. She intended to do both. 

She walked up to one of the bars and with a smile at the two guys ahead of her, was offered first place in the line. Gin and tonic sounded good and she ordered one. There were no free tables so she chose one with three younger girls and asked if she could join them. They all looked to be a bit young to be in a club. One immediately said 'yes', while the other two looked sceptical. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm not competition. The younger guys don't interest me." She didn't add that the younger girls did. That seemed to set them at ease and with a little encouragement, they relaxed and started chatting. 

Mrs. Taylor told them part truths about being out on the town while her husband was away. It was easy to make them think she was out for an illicit affair. That seemed to peak their curiosity, which made it easy to probe them for some information. They were all college students and yes, they were underage. But being college students, they had little difficulty getting legitimate looking fake ID. Two of them gave Mrs. Taylor knowing looks as they admitted they were there to have 'a good time' which was college speak for getting laid. They said they had boyfriends who were away with the football team. The other one said she was single. Mrs. Taylor gave her a considered look while appearing not to. Her name was Michelle. She said she was nineteen, looked seventeen and didn't appear anywhere as committed to the evening's agenda as the other two. She was a modestly attractive young woman, dressed in a more conservative fashion than her friends. A plain white blouse covered her generous breasts. She was generally well padded but not overly so. She wore a thin sweater over the blouse, as if to hide the size of her breasts. A pleated black skirt was a bit long for the club scene. No make up or jewellery made it obvious she wasn't on the prowl. Both of her friends were in body hugging party dresses, high heels and war paint. 'Free for the fucking,' Mrs. Taylor thought, not that she had a problem with it.

When the other two were dancing, Michelle admitted that she wasn't comfortable with the idea of casual dating, college speak for random fucking, at least not as comfortable as her friends. "They seem to want to get laid by a new guy every time the boyfriends are gone for the weekend. They say that the boys are doing the same, but I don't know. What I do know is that I'm not going to be going back to campus with them. They'll both have hooked up and for all I know, will be having a foursome within the hour." 

Mrs. Taylor noted that Michelle didn't seem disgusted as much as she seemed envious. "If I may," she started, "don't you ever take advantage of all this? The easy sex, I mean." Michelle gave a slight laugh. "Not yet," she replied. 

"Maybe sometime I will, but a year ago, I was in high school, living at home and going to my church youth group. I'm a bit of a stick in the mud. In fact, I'm...still a ...you know." Mrs. Taylor felt a thrill of desire. She had found a suitable quarry. "Nothing wrong with that, Michelle. In fact, sometimes I wish I hadn't married so early. Take you time. You can always change...your status at a moments notice. Half the guys in here would die to do that for you. Just don't believe any of the promises they give you as they try." 

Michelle laughed. "I've had my share of promises, mostly at places like this. 'Yes, I'll still respect you.' 'Of course I won't tell a soul.' And several others, all of them as feeble as those ones." 

Mrs. Taylor offered a reassuring hand, which Michelle took. "It wasn't that long ago that I was getting those same promises. Even my husband gave me some. "Of course I never cheat on you.' 'I'm just going out with the boys for a beer.' Boys grow up but they don't get any older. Now I just smile at the lies and have the occasional revenge night out. It doesn't make me a better person but it does make me feel better."

'Church youth group', she thought. Michelle is going to try to get me out of here and not cheat. I think I'll let her. As if she was reading Mrs. Taylor's mind, Michelle said, "Maybe it's not my place, but...do you really think that...two wrongs make a right? I mean, far be it for me to...tell you how to live, but...you are married after all." 

Mrs. Taylor gave Michelle's hand a squeeze and said, "It's hard to explain. It really is. In fact, I really don't want to talk about it. It's bad enough to let some strange guy...you know...but to explain why I let it happen? I don't think I could. I just get so...angry and so...lonely. I just want to...get out and..." 

Michelle now gave Mrs. Taylor's hand a squeeze. "You don't have to explain or justify. I can't imagine what it would be like to be married to a husband that..." 

"Fucks around on you, parks his dick in some other woman's vagina?" Mrs. Taylor finished. "Lets some other woman do what I'm supposed to be doing?" Mrs. Taylor let her eyes get misty. Then she made a deliberate effort to look around the room. 

"It's so easy to get laid by a guy in here. All you have to do is dance with a guy, rub his crotch a bit and you're half way there. Let me show you," and she went to get up. "You don't have to. Honest. My friends...have already shown me...several times." Mrs. Taylor sat back down and gave herself a mental pat on the back. Half way there, she thought. Half way there.

"Michelle," she said, in a feeling sorry tone, "I'm really ruining your night out. I think I'll just leave. You don't need to hear my sorry tales of woe." She was certain of the result and she wasn't disappointed. 

"You don't have to go. Please stay. My friends are going to abandon me anyway." "Are you sure," Mrs. Taylor asked, already knowing the answer. "I mean...I can stay. Nothing much else to do anyway." Michelle smiled and seemed relieved. Mrs. Taylor gave a happier smile and said, "Okay, girl's night out has just started. I think another drink is in order. What can I get you?" Michelle wanted a vodka and orange juice. When she had the drinks, Mrs. Taylor sat down and asked, "How are your friends doing?"

The friends seemed to be doing fine. Having successfully hooked up with a couple of guys, one came back to the table. She gathered her purse plus that of her friend and said," Don't wait for us, sweetie. We're going to get laid." And with that she was gone. 

Michelle looked a bit defeated, so Mrs. Taylor said, "You know, we can do what they just did. Pick up a couple of guys and take them back to my hotel room. It's not too far from here." 

Michelle blushed. "Lord, no. I mean, it's not...like I can't, but...I'm not into...that sort of thing." Mrs. Taylor gave Michelle a reassuring smile. "That's okay. We can stay here or...why don't you and I go back to my room? Girl's night out for just the two of us." Michelle's eyes brightened a bit. "That would be good. Okay, let's go."

As they were walking out, Mrs. Taylor asked, "Do you want me to pick up something to drink? I could get some vodka and some orange juice." Michelle nodded yes. "Cool," was all she said. A block away was a grocery store. A minute later, Mrs. Taylor had what she thought would be Michelle's undoing. She got the store clerk to call a cab and only fifteen minutes later, they were in the room.

She wasn't sure if she was going to need one of her very special tablets. As much as drugging, then abusing Michelle was a delicious thought, getting the same result voluntarily was safer and might lead to future adventures. Start with the alcohol and a bit of seduction, was her first plan. 

She poured two drinks, handed one to Michelle and said, "Here's to us. No guys allowed." Michelle smiled and replied, "To girl's night out," and they clinked the glasses. "Make yourself comfortable," said Mrs. Taylor, as she sat on the bed. Michelle sat in the chair and sighed. "This is so much better than staying at that club. Thank you." 

Mrs. Taylor gave another reassuring smile. "No problem, Michelle. This will keep me out of trouble anyway." 'But not necessarily you', she added to herself. 

Michelle looked at her with hint of curiosity on her face."Do you really...go out and...fool around on your husband?" With a false wistful look, Mrs. Taylor replied, "Yes, I do. I know my husband does it on me. So I do it as well. If I didn't, I would likely go crazy. I mean, at least I'm not sitting at home, being angry or feeling sorry for myself. He never tells me what he's been up to and I don't either. It's kind of an implied arrangement. Not the best way to run a marriage but it works for us. So here's to surviving," and she raised her glass again. Michelle looked a little dubious but raised her glass also. "Well, if it works...go for it," she sighed. 

Mrs. Taylor thought about her next step, how to introduce the subject of her interest in Michelle's young and innocent body. She decided to be fairly straightforward. If it didn't work, there was always a tablet. "You know Michelle," she started, "I don't always fool around with guys. I have on occasion had some women in my life." She avoided looking at Michelle with too much interest, waiting to see how she responded. 

Michelle pondered what she had just heard, then said, "Lots of girls at school have...experimented with...you know, other girls." Mrs. Taylor remained silent, letting Michelle carry on if she wanted. She did. "When I said that I was still...a virgin...I meant...well, with guys. I have...you know...a few times..." 

Mrs. Taylor nodded knowingly. "I understand, Michelle. I do. It's nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, there are times I prefer female company." She avoided saying 'like now', but added, "Safer, and if I may, usually better." Michelle laughed. "Well, I wouldn't know about better, but safer I understand." 'If you only knew', thought Mrs. Taylor as she looked over her intended partner for the night. She smiled and went to work. 

"So," she began, "have you ever been with an older woman?" Michelle seemed to have been expecting some kind of invitation. "You're not old," she said, with a slight laugh. "Although, back in high school, I had a serious crush on Miss Hadley, my gym teacher. And you do look kind of like her." 

"Do I? How serious of a crush? Did you two ever..." 

Now Michelle finished the question. "Get it on? No, but...I did dream about it." Mrs. Taylor patted the bed beside her and said, "Dreams can come true, Michelle. And I'd love to make that happen." Michelle paused a few seconds, thinking, and then got up. Her face was nervous, her skin slightly flushed. "Its okay, Michelle. We can make each other feel better." She hesitated, then walked to the bed and sat beside Mrs. Taylor who turned to her and putting her arms around her, pulled her in and kissed her mouth. Michelle seemed to stiffen for a second, then relaxed and kissed back. 'Very good', thought Mrs. Taylor.

Kisses led to touching, which led to fondling and soon they were both massaging breasts, moving hands up legs and going for each other's vulvas. Mrs. Taylor was a bit surprised at Michelle's eagerness. Her hand was under Mrs. Taylor's panties before the opposite and Michelle was actually pushing her down onto the bed. Mrs. Taylor got a hand under Michelle's panties and was again surprised at how wet she already was. Michelle moaned as her slit was stroked and a finger probed at her vagina. She moved her panties aside to let the finger enter and again moaned as it did. 

On top, Michelle struggled to get at the zipper of Mrs. Taylor's dress, so she turned them both over and from the bottom succeeded in undoing it. Mrs. Taylor started unbuttoning Michelle's blouse, then got up to allow the skirt to be removed. Michelle looked appreciatively at Mrs. Taylor's attractive matching panty and bra as her dress was slipped up and over her head. Her own bra was quite plain but had a front fastener which she undid herself, letting her larger breasts, firm and youthful, be displayed for Mrs. Taylor's pleasure. 

'Very nice', was her thought as she fondled and started kissing and licking them. When she had a nipple in her mouth, Michelle sighed and held her head to her as she massaged over Mrs. Taylor's back and ass. Thinking that Michelle had done this more than a few times, Mrs. Taylor wondered if the girl might be gay. 'No difference to me' was her thought. She started to remove Michelle's sweater and blouse getting help in doing so. Taking off her shoes as well, Michelle was now in her panties only. Plain white and covering more skin than most, they made Michelle look virginal. 'Good' was Mrs. Taylor's thought. 'She soon won't be'. Mrs. Taylor gave Michelle a long and careful look, up and down. With a few less pounds, she could have been a bathing suit model. She wasn't pretty enough to be a centrefold, but she was a real dish and Mrs. Taylor was hungry. 

She slipped off her own panties, leaving on her bra and stockings. Then she moved up and straddling Michelle, put her pussy to the girl's mouth. Michelle showed no hesitation and started a surprisingly good job of working Mrs. Taylor's offered femininity. Michelle's tongue ran up and down the older woman's slit, teasing them apart and felt the wetness there. Her tongue played with the vaginal entrance and now Mrs. Taylor moaned in earnest. Michelle moved up to the swollen clit and started sucking it like an expert. 

Mrs. Taylor leaned down and felt a fingertip enter her vagina and start to move. Then a second was added and she felt the thrill of another woman's fingers working her G spot. Michelle was no virgin when it came to women. She soon had Mrs. Taylor's hips rolling and her clit working against the mouth that was sending her higher. "My God, Michelle. Where did you learn to do this? I'm going to come so fast and hard." 

Michelle just kept up her expert ministrations and Mrs. Taylor made good on her promise. "Oh shit. Shit," she hissed through clenched teeth. The orgasm was starting and it built up, then more and more until she was writhing in ecstasy. 

"Coming...coming....oh fuck...oh fuck..." Mrs. Taylor tensed her body a spasm of intensity and then with a gasp, she came. She pressed her clit into Michelle's face until it hurt. Her pelvis thrust into the girl's face with several convulsive thrusts and she screamed. No words, just the release from lustful tension. With a few last gentler thrusts into Michelle's face she started back down and rolled onto her back. Michelle took her in her arms and hugged her tightly. As Mrs. Taylor recovered from her unexpectedly intense orgasm, she wondered,' just who is in control here' and made up her mind to be the one.

The girl was looking very happy with her efforts. "My turn now?" she asked, her voice sweet and innocent, like that of an adolescent. Mrs. Taylor felt an inner rush, a heat, and a wave of sinister thoughts as she planned her assault on the naïve younger woman. 'Start her off easy' she thought and smiling a warm and deceptive smile, she said, "Oh yes, honey, it's your turn now." 

Michelle moved up on the older woman, straddling her as she had been straddled and moved her own pussy to the waiting mouth. "Share and share alike," was the request and Mrs. Taylor complied. Michelle's lips were as full as her breasts, thick and rich, swollen with young estrogen. Her clit was larger as well and her shaft was already stiff with desire. As Mrs. Taylor took the head into her gently sucking lips, she felt it firm and rubbery. Michelle moaned softly and moved her torso down to the bed, giving better access to her vagina and ass. Mrs. Taylor ran her tongue down the full and moist slit, and sought out the very wet and delicious vaginal entrance. Michelle's wetness was sweet and slippery, like a fine, sugary oil. And as her tongue probed, Mrs. Taylor found the fluids literally dripping onto her tongue. Michelle was deeply and passionately excited. 'Lovely', thought Mrs. Taylor, thinking both of the possibilities and the teenage sweetness enveloping her mouth.

She gave Michelle a serious working over with her well developed oral technique. The girl was responding with moans, sighs and gentle pelvic rocking, gently fucking the face under her. By glancing straight up over her forehead, Mrs Taylor could she the girl using one hand to massage and squeeze her own breasts and rolling nipples between finger and thumb. Deliberately easing off the oral technique, Mrs. Taylor wanted Michelle to get a bit frustrated and she did. Then, moving out from underneath, she positioned Michelle on hands and knees, gently pushing her upper back down and Michelle happily settled her gorgeously firm breasts onto the bed. 

Mrs. Taylor gazed at the full and inviting ass before her. Like all of Michelle, it was perfectly padded, round and firm. Her pink asshole was a rosebud of delight. Her skin was flawless and smooth. From behind, her pussy lips made a lovely sight, with her inner lips barely peeking out. Mrs. Taylor gave a sigh of anticipation and moved in to feed.

It was an ass to worship before abusing and that was the plan. She kissed, licked, touched and caressed, and was rewarded with Michelle arching her back and spreading her legs. With fingers, mouth and her own breasts, Mrs. Taylor revelled in the sensations of Michelle's offered delights. "Oh my, honey, you are a beautiful sight. Such a lovely young thing. So lush and fresh. So sweet and tender. So delicious. So incredibly sexy. You have no idea how turned on you're making me." 

All of which was all true. Michelle murmured at the compliments and just settled onto the bed and somehow got her ass even higher in the air. With her tongue and fingers, Mrs. Taylor probed the vagina and ass in front of her, moving the girl's own wetness from her flowing vagina to her tight, pink rosebud asshole. Pausing every now and then to rub her own pussy against a thigh, Mrs. Taylor slowly and teasingly brought Michelle along, keeping up a sensuous stream of tender sweet nothings. Michelle said nothing, just enjoying the pleasures and giving off sighs of content. As she moved up her climb to orgasm, the sighs were replaced by moans of ecstasy and murmurs of encouragement. Mrs. Taylor considered how to go from lover to abuser. 'In steps' was the plan. 




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 02



"Michelle, honey..." she started, and then paused. "Yes?" was the hesitant reply. "I want to really drive you wild." Mrs. Taylor was talking in her best reassuring but seductive voice. "I want to take you places you've never gone before. I want to make you come so hard, you'll scream. And I want to do that again...and again. Can I do that for you?" 

Michelle smiled in an accepting and inviting way. "Oh yes. Oh my god, yes. I'm yours. Take me. Do whatever you want. Anything." Mrs. Taylor was certain she meant it. She was also certain she didn't no the full meaning of 'anything'. Giving Michelle a long, sensuous tongue bath to her pussy, moving from clit up to ass, she said, "Lovely."

Getting up off the bed, she said, "Now be a good girl and close your eyes." Michelle just nodded consent and her eyes went shut. Mrs. Taylor went to her suitcase and got out a blindfold. "Have you ever tried this?" she asked, putting it on the girl and running her fingernail all the way down her spine. Michelle moaned at the touch and nodded no, but let the blindfold go on. 

Mrs. Taylor took her time. She continued to play with Michelle's femininity bringing her up a bit and then paused to add more bondage items. First she put a collar around Michelle's neck. Sensing no concern, she continued to suck and finger probe the vagina and ass of the unsuspecting Michelle. "You're going to come for me honey but not just yet. When you come, you'll be begging me to finish you. Then you'll be begging me to do it again. I think you're going to like it." Michelle murmured and gave her ass a wiggle. 'Do it' was her body language message. With another tongue bath, Michelle groaned in anticipation. Mrs. Taylor went back to her suitcase. 

She took wrist and ankle restraints and still keeping up the slow and reassuring sweet nothings, she applied them to Michelle's four limbs. Caressing all over the girl's body and kissing her neck, she asked, "Has anyone ever tied you up? Has anyone introduced you to the pleasures of trust?" 

Michelle, taken in by the words and her own growing desire for orgasm, shook her head no. "You'll be the first. Tie me up and ravish me. Fuck me till I beg you to stop." Mrs. Taylor gave a warm and gentle laugh. 

"And if I don't stop? If I keep you coming till you melt? If I fuck your brains out and then some?" Michelle just gave her ass another wiggle. "Don't stop until morning," she said. Her voice one of soft and wishing naiveté. Mrs. Taylor said nothing. She just gave Michelle a longer tongue bath and a gentle bite to one of her swollen pussy lips. 

Still going slow, she attached ropes to the restraint rings and with lots of kissing and wet, wet tongue technique she ran the ropes to the four bed posts under the frame. She kept them loose and with Michelle on all fours, her knees completely bent, there wasn't yet any real restriction to her movements. Michelle was just getting off on the novelty. Mrs. Taylor went back to work and deciding to give Michelle a first orgasm, slowly and expertly brought her up close with two fingers in her vagina, stroking and massaging her G spot while her other hand alternated between clit attention and slight ass entries. Michelle was breathing deep and steady as she got closer to orgasm. Then she started to talk. "God you are good at this. The other girls just went for it. You are so good at this. I love it." Mrs. Taylor smiled. She was good at this. 

Steadily bringing Michelle closer, she gazed lovingly at the wet, warm vagina, the lips, the succulent rosebud and the full round cheeks spread before her, like a sexual smorgasbord just for her choosing. 'Make it a good one' she thought, 'a blend of a clit orgasm with a vaginal'. 

Yes, that would keep Michelle wanting more. She sucked on two of her fluid wet fingers and went for Michelle's G. With gentle clit massage and more sweet nothings, Michelle was now rolling her hips and whimpering. "Oh yes, baby, come for me," Mrs. Taylor urged. "Come all over my hands. Do you want to come, you precious sweet thing? Do you?" 

Michelle was murmuring, "Yes...yes...make me come...make me fucking come...make me scream...fuck me and don't stop..." Mrs. Taylor was very good at judging impending orgasms. She played Michelle like a violin, getting her close, easing off and giving her more teasing words. 

"You do want to come. You really want it...but not yet...not until you beg...I want to hear you beg...I want to hold you at the edge until you are squirming..." And she did. Michelle was working her clit and vagina into the hands that were so close to giving her what she craved. She was squirming in delight and intense sexual desire. Mrs. Taylor knew that in a minute she would be squirming in intense sexual frustration. 

"Oh God! Oh my fucking God! Don't do this to me. Shit, I want to come...make me...let me...please...oh my god, make me come..." Mrs. Taylor wanted to make Michelle almost hurt with the feeling of being so close but yet, so far. Whenever she felt Michelle's muscles start to clamp and squeeze, she backed off. 

"Not yet, my sweet thing...not yet...I'm not sure you really want to come...in fact..." She backed off more and Michelle groaned in frustration. "Please, for the love of Christ...please...oh my fucking God, make me come...do it...now..." 

Mrs. Taylor was enjoying this immensely. "Oh my," she said, "look who wants to come. Look who fucking well wants to come." She picked it up a bit. "This better, my sweet thing? Will this do?" Michelle was almost crying now. "More...more...harder...fuck my pussy...fuck my fucking pussy...for the love of God, harder...harder..." 

Mrs. Taylor waited a few seconds and Michelle again groaned in supreme sexual agony. Then she went to work again, concentrating on giving Michelle's G a serious finger fuck. The girl whimpered in partial release and her vaginal muscles clamped and Mrs. Taylor felt the strength of her youthful efforts to get off. "My, my...such a good girl..." Mrs. Taylor murmured. "...such a...fucking...sweet...girl...I think I'll let you come. Yes, I will." 

Michelle was almost babbling her thanks as her hips were rolling. "God do it...do it...oh my God...coming...coming...shit, shit, shit..." Mrs. Taylor kept it up, and with a few firm clit rubs and seriously firm G pressure, Michelle was over the edge and coming. Her body went into a trembling spasm and her breathing stopped. Then with a convulsive jerk she was screaming. Mrs. Taylor kept the G massage going and Michelle doing a good job of reacting to what might have been extreme torture. Her primal voice was a series of guttural obscenities and her pelvic contortions were almost enough to break the fingers in her vagina, her muscle rippling, young and powerful vagina. Mrs. Taylor was pleased. Michelle just kept coming. "Stop! Please stop. No more...please" Mrs. Taylor took that as her invitation to really show Michelle what an orgasm was all about. 

Pausing only a few seconds, she returned to Michelle's G massage and clit rubbing. "One is never enough, sweet thing." Michelle groaned but didn't move. "Okay...okay..." she gasped. 

With her usual expertise, Mrs. Taylor had Michelle groaning in seconds. The girl's pelvis was rolling and then she stiffened again. "Shit...shit...oh my God...Shit," and she was coming again. Mrs. Taylor smiled as she felt Michelle's muscles rippling around her fingers. She paused to let Michelle enjoy. The girl's pelvis bucked a few times and she was again gasping short breathes. 

"Ohhhh....ohhhh....fuck..." and Mrs. Taylor went back to work. "No! No more...please...I don't think I could take it!" Mrs. Taylor leaned forward to kiss Michelle's low back. "Try, sweet thing...just try. Good things come in threes."

Mrs. Taylor was now massaging more gently and mouthing more sweet nothings. "Hold still. Just let it happen. Come for me, just one more time...come for me." Michelle just groaned in acceptance and relaxed. 

"Okay. But just one more...please...only one more..." Mrs. Taylor gave an evil smile. "Yes, just one more...for now..." and she went back to her duties.

The third attempt at getting Michelle off was going as well as the first two. In just half a minute, Michelle was again rolling her hips and groaning. "Oh my God, oh my God...can't believe it...ohhh...ohhh," and she was coming again. "Fuck, yeah! Fuck...fuck...fuck..." and she screamed. It sounded like agony but Mrs. Taylor knew it was ecstasy. With the scream, Michelle bucked several times and then collapsed on the bed. 

She lay on her tummy with one hand covering her vulva as if protecting herself from any further attempts at orgasms. She lay still for a minute, just coming down and breathing the deep breaths of someone who was seriously winded. Mrs. Taylor just lay down beside her and stroked fingers over Michelle's body. 

Michelle was breathing steadily now. She rolled to face her lover. "I've never been able to come again quickly. Never," she said in a content voice. "But this...it's so good. God, you're incredible. Incredible." 

"Thank you, sweet thing," was the reply. "I'm glad you're enjoying this." Michelle gave a short laugh as she relished the hands at her orgasm buttons. "Enjoy is not the word...I...just kept going, and going...it really was...incredible..." She gave Mrs. Taylor a long, languid kiss. "You can do that to me...anytime..." Mrs. Taylor kissed the girl back. "I will."

"But first, a few for me, please and thank you." With that, she started to undo the ropes, leaving on the restraints. Michelle gave her a questioning smile. "For later, my love, for later." Michelle giggled like a school girl. "Yummm..." was all she said. 

'Well, it'll be yumm for me,' thought Mrs. Taylor. She then lay down on the bed with her knees up and legs apart. Michelle took the hint and went straight for the money. Soon Mrs. Taylor was groaning in pleasure. At Michelle's finger entering her vagina, she gasped and he girl went for the G. In a few minutes Mrs. Taylor was writhing and calling out, "Yes, oh my God, yes...fuck that's good...yesss...." 

Mrs. Taylor was in real sexual delight. There was no need to pretend as Michelle was obviously good at what she was doing. Soon, the climb to orgasm was starting. Michelle didn't make her lover wait but kept up her tender ministrations. "Yes...yes...coming...coming..." Mrs. Taylor was squeezing down on Michelle's hand. With a wonderfully intense total body tremble, she was over and melting. 'God...good one,' she thought as her orgasm continued. 

Michelle waited until her lover was almost down before sending her back up. Mrs. Taylor's multi-orgasmic capability was well practiced. She let her body relax and accept the powerful sensations coming from her clitoris and vagina. In less than half a minute, the pressure was building and she waited until it was almost unbearable before she squeezed down on Michelle's hand again.

She let out a long low moan of sexual tension and she came again. Michelle lapped at the woman cum given her and Mrs. Taylor held her head close and relished it. "Another?" asked Michelle. 

"Oh yes, sweetness, but let me get something." Mrs. Taylor didn't need a lot of time to recover. Getting up, she went to her suitcase and returned with a Rabbit type vibrator and some lube. "Oh my," gushed Michelle. "Give it to me."

Mrs. Taylor returned to her position and Michelle gave the toy some lube. "I've never seen one like this but it seems pretty straight forward," she said. "This goes here," and she put the main end into Mrs. Taylor's ready and waiting vagina. "And this goes...here..." 

Michelle murmured as the clit part was touched to its intended place. "And now... for the fun part," and she turned it on. Mrs. Taylor gasped as both her clit and her vagina started to buzz. 

"Ohhhh...." She groaned. "...absolutely fantastic." Michelle was pleased and started to work the toy, instinctively knowing to alternate clit touch with G touch. "You've done this before," murmured Mrs. Taylor. "No, really," was the honest answer. "Well then, you need to get one, sweetness. For any lonely nights and for your...special friends. You're a natural." 

It wasn't long before Mrs. Taylor was squirming in genuine ecstasy. Making no effort to hold back, she let the climax rise and peak, and then wash over her. "Yesss..." she sighed. Then with a few jerks, she said, "Stop! That's enough." 

Michelle just eased off, saying, "You aren't serious and I know it. One more coming up," and she resumed. "You're going to be the death of me, sweetness," sighed Mrs. Taylor and relaxed. Her fourth of this session and fifth of the night was soon approaching and Mrs. Taylor knew it would be harder. She wasn't disappointed. She was soon twisting and squirming as the stacked orgasm built, built and then erupted. 

"Shit...Shit...Jesus Fucking Christ...Stop!" Michelle also knew a bit and just eased off again, without stopping. Mrs. Taylor caught her breath and tried to lie still. 

"I love giving multiple orgasms," gushed Michelle. "You're very good at it...one more please and thank you...," answered Mrs. Taylor. And soon her wish was granted. 

'Oh shit', she thought, 'this is going to be awesome.' And it was. The third rabbit orgasm always seemed to climb forever and she was soon gasping and tensing as the heat and pressure seemed to build up to the point of killing her. Michelle was now using the toy at a higher setting and leaving it at Mrs. Taylor's achingly hard G spot. She was trying to lie still but couldn't, bucking up to the toy. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Hard! Fuck that thing!"

Michelle went for 'high' and held it in place as best she could while her lover was moving like a bitch in heat. Mrs. Taylor's mind went to fantasy mode and saw Michelle's body in full restraint, on the bed in 'ass in the air' mode. She saw herself with her favourite anal strap on, giving Michelle the ass fucking of her life. In her mind, Michelle was screaming for mercy and that did it. The third stacked orgasm peaked with painful intensity and then broke. She screamed out in primal lust and took the powerful waves of pelvic spasms that felt like she was being electrocuted with a vaginal probe. She lifted up off the bed and howled. "YESSS...FUCKING, FUCKING YESSSS..." and collapsed. 

Michelle was stunned. She had never seen this type of sexual power before. She looked at the buzzing toy in her hand and then at Mrs. Taylor's rapturous face. "Holy shit," she whispered to herself. "I can't believe I did that."

Mrs. Taylor was gasping for air. It took a moment before she could speak. Then, as she lay panting, she reached down to pull Michelle up to her and held her tight, luxuriating in the large, firm breasts, squeezing against her sweating body. She wrapped her legs around the girl's ass and gripped her tight. "Oh my God...what you did for me...fan-fucking-tastic. Absolutely, unbelievably fan-fucking-tastic." 

Michelle didn't quite know what to say. "You're welcome," was all she could think of. "Give me a few minutes," sighed Mrs. Taylor, "then it's your turn again." 

"Oh my God..."murmured Michelle. "I don't think I can take what you just took." Mrs. Taylor smiled, both in happiness and sinister intention. "I think you can sweetness. I think you can." 

Then after another minute of closeness, Mrs. Taylor suggested, "Perhaps a break? We can have another drink, perhaps shower together and then carry on." Michelle felt better about that. She thought that more alcohol just might allow her to absorb the sexual fury she felt awaited her. 

They got up and Mrs. Taylor poured two glasses of vodka and orange juice. Michelle sat in an easy chair with one leg over the chair's arm rest, completely at ease with her intimate exposure. Mrs. Taylor sat on the couch opposite and openly eyed Michelle's femininity. Her pubic hair was trimmed and Mrs. Taylor imagined the sight of her shaven clean. "You're cute," she said, honestly. "I wish I had breasts as gorgeous as yours," she added falsely, knowing what they would be like in thirty years, but for now, they were just added toys to play with. Michelle smiled and said, "Thank you. You're gorgeous. You really are." Mrs. Taylor responded by putting a leg over the couch's arm rest, giving Michelle the same intimate view. She beamed. "And you're cute...down there as well." 

They gave each other compliments, sipped their drinks and talked about guys, girls, sex and life. Mrs. Taylor gave away nothing personal, just well practiced lies. Michelle was serious and Mrs. Taylor suspected innocently honest as well. "I mean, those friends of mine, they know that the guys are going to be boasting of their conquest all over campus next week. They know their boyfriends will hear and they don't care. The boyfriends don't care. It just seems so...superficial. I mean why have a boyfriend if you're going to...fuck any old guy when he's away, let alone two at a time?" 

Mrs. Taylor smiled wanly. "Doesn't make much sense, does it?" she replied, knowingly full why the two friends were doing what they were doing. Maybe Michelle would get it one day, but with her church going background, she might not. But then, Mrs. Taylor thought, she isn't having a problem fucking me. She may have a problem with going to happen later, but that's her problem. She smiled at Michelle and said, "Care to rinse off? Bring your drink."

Mrs. Taylor removed the collar and limb restraints and they went into the bathroom, getting into the shower. Mrs. Taylor was looking forward to getting her wet, soapy hands all over Michelle's luscious young body. It really was a treat, she thought, old enough to have serious feminine curves, young enough to be an illicit delight. 

She started with shampooing her hair and luxuriated in rubbing her own body against Michelle's full and almost hard, ass and breasts. "Ummm..." murmured Michelle, relishing the touches and body rubs herself. After rinsing the suds from the girl's hair, she shampooed it again, just for the pleasure. She gazed at wet suds running down the girl's breasts and tummy, then down over her vulva. As Michelle tilted her head back to rinse again, the sight of the suds running down the beautifully curved back and ass was heaven in Mrs. Taylor's eyes. She took the bar of soap and started to explore in earnest. 

"You have a lovely touch," murmured Michelle as gentle hands caressed her, massaged her and paused over special places. After working over the young body for several minutes, Mrs. Taylor put down the soap and let the water rinse it away fully. Then, with the warm water running, she got down on her knees and pulled Michelle to her mouth. The girl sighed as she lifted one leg to let Mrs. Taylor have her way with the deliciously clean and wet pussy. After a few minutes of gentle oral, Mrs. Taylor touched Michelle's vagina and the girl obligingly spread her labia, inviting the penetration. Mrs. Taylor was slow, wanting Michelle to have a long and luscious build up. After a few minutes of gentle fingering, she entered a second finger but didn't work any harder. She teasingly just brushed over the girl's G and worked her fingers around, in and out. Michelle was sighing and thoroughly enjoying the pleasure. When Mrs. Taylor judged the time appropriate, she took her second hand and started to massage the teen's ass cheeks, firmly and sensuously. Michelle just murmured her consent. Then, after another minute of gentle oral, Mrs. Taylor picked it up and sucked and tongued a bit firmer, while paying more attention to the teen's G. Louder breathing assured the move was welcome. Then, with Michelle well into it, Mrs. Taylor put a tentative finger tip to the girl's squeaky clean ass hole. There was a bit of a shudder, but no protest. A firmer pressure brought about another murmur and Michelle adjusted her posture and put her hands to her ass cheeks and parted them. Good, thought Mrs. Taylor, she's had this before or wants it for the first time. 




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 02



With her usual skill, Mrs. Taylor worked her fingertip into the girl's ass, gently and slowly, then moved it around, testing the resistance. Michelle gave a low moan and held still. Careful to keep the girl's clit and G in the picture, Mrs. Taylor worked her finger into the inviting ass and slowly stoked only an inch. 

"Ummm..." sighed the very happy girl. 'Awesome,' thought Mrs. Taylor. Quicker breathing and a slowly starting pleasure dance told of pending build up. As her seducer went into more serious oral and G activity, the girl started to squeeze down on the ass penetrating finger. "Yesss..." she sighed. "That feels wonderful...oh, so wonderful." 

Mrs. Taylor moved the anal finger around more firmly, working at a little stretching of the girl's anal ring, then penetrated a bit deeper and stroked more fully. The water running over the girl's parted ass kept enough wetness there to make it comfortable, and the sensation of having clitoral, vaginal and anal all at once kept the girl climbing up to climax. "God that's good...just like that...yes...don't stop...don't stop..." Mrs. Taylor had no intentions of stopping.

Soon Michelle was writhing and her hips were slowly doing the 'get me off' gyration dance. "Ouuu....Ouuuuu....yes, yes, yes....fuck it...fuck it...yesss..." and she was peaking. With a serious pelvic gyration, she started to groan in ecstasy and then with several sharp gasps, she came. 

Mrs. Taylor felt her hips close on her fingers and her ass clamp down. Then spasms of muscle contractions told of a seriously intense orgasm. Michelle tensed and stopped breathing then exploded in relief. "Fuck, fuck, fuck...Stop! Stop! Oh my God....no...don't...shit..." And then she was melting. She partially collapsed into Mrs. Taylor and stated to moan. "Oh my God...oh my fucking God! That was...unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable." Mrs. Taylor smiled. 'Just wait honey,' she thought. 'Just wait.'

Michelle looked down at her lover and rolled her eyes dramatically. "My God, I thought I was going to explode. I felt like my whole body was coming. And it lasted so long! How do you do that?" Mrs Taylor answered honestly. "All it takes is experience, sweetness. You'll get it. Just wait." She smiled again and stood up. 

Michelle wanted to return the favour and started to wash her lover. She was very happy, and seemed genuinely thankful to be able to do it. She shampooed Mrs. Taylor's hair and ran the soap all over her. "You really do have a gorgeous body," she murmured, "and I love your breasts. They're so firm and round. You really don't even need to wear a bra." The teen played with them and smiled happily. Then she leaned in and gave her lover a passionate kiss. The two of them locked lips and French kissed for several minutes while Michelle caressed breasts and face, legs and ass. She really was enthralled with her situation. Good, thought Mrs. Taylor in her deviously sinister mind. I want you compliant.

Michelle wanted to return the orgasm and although Mrs. Taylor was eager to move from loving sex to sexual abuse, she let it happen. Michelle did what she had had done to her and she was reasonable good at it. When the teen touched her lover's ass, Mrs. Taylor murmured her consent and lifted one leg, putting it on a convenient shelf in the shower enclosure. Michelle wasted no time in working a finger into the well used ass and Mrs. Taylor groaned. She really did relish her ass being penetrated. She preferred a good thick cock or a strap on anal dildo, but the present finger was a good start. She speeded up her orgasm by looking back on some of her memorable anal moments, like that guy from the out of state police force who traded the opportunity to get his rocks off in exchange for a torn up speeding ticket. God, but did he have an enormous one; thick like a Polish sausage and curved like one as well. They had driven off the highway, and when well hidden she had given him more than his share. When she saw how truly gigantic he was, all she wanted was to get it up her ass. He later said he had never had anal sex as no other woman dared to accept him. It took lots of lube and the use of three successively thicker dildos to get ready for him, but God, what a fuck that was. She had felt like she was about to split when he finally came in a roar of lust and a scream of pain himself as his wonder cock had to work against it's tight confines to get the cum out. He was left exhausted and happy as she drove away ticketless and happy herself. 

She paused in her memories and felt Michelle's finger well up in her, almost to the hilt. If you only knew, sweetness. Not quite ready she moved on to the time of one of her many threesomes with a cock in her pussy and another in her ass. Having had many, she decided it was time to go for double anal. She was laying face away on one guy whose cock was doing its part when she took the other guy's cock out of her pussy and held it to her already occupied favourite sex orifice. The guy looked at her like she was sex personified and with a little effort and lots of lube, was able to join his buddy. That one had hurt but in a very, very good way. She had howled in painful pleasure while the guys tried took turns in giving her anal fucking. They all came close together in an anal orgy of obscenity and cum drenched passion. Mrs. Taylor could still see the wonder in the guys eyes as she bade them to get out of her ass, then let them see a stream of cum follow. 

Mentally noting Michelle's progress at getting her off, Mrs. Taylor felt it was close but needed one more bit of memory help. She let her mind wander back to her own college days and Professor Applewhite. Good old 'Johnny Appleseed'. While generally a good student, she had fallen behind in his history class and was in danger of being washed out of the class. "Gee, professor, can't I make up the work...surely we can work this out." She hadn't gone there trying to seduce him but he had taken it that way. He closed and locked his office door and said, "Miss Green, you aren't the first girl who's asked for extra credit for extra...activities and you won't be the last. Slip off your shorts and your panties and let's get on with it." He wasn't bad for a sixty year old professor. An old man's cock, thick and flaccid, but all he wanted was to fuck her once a week until the end of term. He was reasonably quick about it, laying her across his desk, face down with one leg up and on the desk. 

For the rest of the term, it took him a few minutes to work up an effective erection, masturbating while she dropped her panties, got positioned and spread her labia as a show. But once it was there, he simply used a dollop of lube, got himself condom wrapped and entered backdoor with little adieu, stroking for about one minute and coming with a minimum of noise, fuss or bother. She was usually in and out of his office in under five minutes. She thought about lying there, on the desk, thinking about something she had to get done or what to have for dinner, while Appleseed calmly fucked her with his thick, soft cock. On a few occasions, she fantasized about his cock, thick and firm, calmly fucking in her ass. 'Yes...that's it,' she thought. The image of old Johnny Appleseed with his cock up her ass. 

Michelle was seriously stroking in her ass and it was heaven. Her G was screaming to come and in seconds it did. She gasped, shook and made all the usual signs of pleasure. Michelle was pleased. Mrs. Taylor paused to think of her coming pleasures and smiled some more.

They got out and towelled each other off. "One more drink?" offered the older woman. Michelle nodded yes. Not knowing how much she would be expected to take, she was happy for another dose of alcohol. They sat in the room and gave each other loving eyes.  

"So," began Michelle, "what comes next?" Mrs. Taylor grinned slyly and said, "Well...it's time for you to have a turn with the Rabbit vibe. You're going to love it. But I think you might bale after only one orgasm. It does give an intensity that can be hard to imagine..." 

Michelle took the bait. "I think I can handle it. I maybe a bit inexperienced but I do have my youth and strength to help." She smiled sweetly. Mrs. Taylor gave a return sweet smile, thinking that youth and strength are no match for experience and treachery.

"Okay," Mrs. Taylor said with a sly wink. "Care to try the blindfold and restraints again?" Michelle was unconcerned. The last session didn't even have her really restrained. She gave a 'yes' look and held out her hands. Mrs. Taylor put the wrist restraints back on and gave her victim a kiss. Then she put on the blind fold, the collar and the ankle restraints. "Up on the bed, sweetness and assume the position. Michelle giggled and did that, getting onto her hands and knees with an exaggerated sway to her hips, looking back and giving her lover an encouraging wink. 

As she tied the ropes to the rings, Mrs. Taylor kept up a loving tease. "My, my, are you going to have the time of your life. I wonder if you can take four of these orgasms, one after the other." 

"Oh God, "said Michelle, "Why don't you just melt my brain right now," and she giggled again. 

"I might need to keep your legs on the bed, sweetness. You just might bail out after only two." Mrs. Taylor waited for her suggestion to take. "Tie me down, lover. Keep me from hitting the ceiling." Mrs. Taylor got out two more restraints that went around the naïve girl's thighs just above her knees. Then with lots of caresses and sweet nothings, the ropes were tightened, but not overly so. Then a rope was tied to each thigh ring and the end run through the wrist rings. 

"This will keep you from hitting the ceiling," murmured Mrs. Taylor as she ran her hands all over the girl's body. Leaving the ropes loose, she reached for the Rabbit and the lube. "Are you sure you can handle this toy?" was her question. She didn't ask about future developments. "Oh yes, lover, I'm all yours." And so you are thought Mrs. Taylor. 

She started with slow and sweet kisses, over the girl's legs, her ass and her back. Wonderful shudders of delight were the result. A generous amount of lube was sensuously worked into her vagina and over her clit. "Ummm..." murmured Michelle. "That feels...so...good!" 

"Like that, sweetness? May I play with you?" 

"God, yes...don't stop until morning..." Mrs. Taylor applied lube to her hands and rubbed it on the girl's body like it was lotion. She delighted in the sensation of her hands sliding over her skin, her breasts, her legs and her throat. "You are so beautiful, sweetness, so soft and warm, so luscious..." 

Michelle was sighing in deep delight at the total body massage. Mrs. Taylor put some lube on the girl's ass cleft and watched it slide down to her intended orifice of choice. She very gently touched a finger to it and Michelle groaned permission. At the finger penetration, slow and loving, she moaned. Then Mrs. Taylor got in position to give her ass and pussy a serious cat licking. 

Over many minutes she ran her tongue over and into the girl's vagina and ass, eliciting more moans of pleasure. Pausing to run her hands under her pussy and up her tummy, she then sat forward and leaning over the teen, gave her breasts some proper attention. She massaged gently, then more firmly and gently squeezed down on the girl's erect nipples. Mrs. Taylor rubbed herself against the well moisten body and purred like a cat. Then she licked her way back down and resumed her duties at Michelle's well exposed ass. Finally, she took the toy and started to tease. 

Without turning it on, she moved it in and out of the girl's vagina. "Ohhh..." Michelle sighed. Then it was her clit's turn to be teased. Then with the toy in proper position, Mrs. Taylor put a finger to, then in the teen's ass. "Yess...yesss...I like that." 

Mrs. Taylor worked her finger in and moved it expertly. "You like that, do you," she murmured, and then turned the toy on low. "God yes...that feels so good..." Mrs. Taylor was going to draw this out. She kept the toy on low and teased Michelle until she was begging. "More...for God's sake, more..." 

"Okay, sweetness..." and she turned it up a bit and worked her vaginal and clitoral areas better, while working her anal finger in deep. "Yes...Oh God, yes..." 

Michelle was quick to get closer with the extra sensations. She was now softly moaning and her body was gently rocking. Mrs. Taylor thought about slowing it down but decided to keep going. She turned the Rabbit up another notch and pressed it in firmly. The girl gave a deep sigh and continued to rock. "Oh God, that feels good. It feels...so...fucking...good." 

Mrs. Taylor started to work her finger in the teen's ass in earnest. "Yes...yes." she gasped. "Yes...like that, just like that..." Despite wanting to go for two fingers, Mrs. Taylor waited. No sense in getting the poor girl alarmed. 

"Ready, sweetness? Ready for a big one? Think you can take it?" Michelle was breathing hard. "Yes," she gasped, "yes. Do it. Fuck me silly, please...don't stop..." 

With an unseen evil grin, Mrs. Taylor did that. She turned the Rabbit up full and alternated between the girl's clit and G. With her anal finger going strong, she went for it and held the toy in its most effective position. Michelle gasped out and started to moan steadily. Her body was rocking harder as she tried to force the toy in more firmly. She really wanted to come. She started to beg for it. 

"Please...please just do it. Fuck me. Make me come...make me come so hard. Please...please...fuck me silly...fuck my brains out...God, I want to come so bad!" 

"Anything you want, sweetness..." and Mrs. Taylor went into serious orgasm mode. 

Mrs. Taylor closed her eyes and went by feel, her anal finger now stroking and moving side to side. With the toy, she was pressing in and slightly moving back but not away. The teen's pleading was music, pure music. "Keep it going...don't back off...I want to come so bad...God, do I want to come..." 

And you shall, thought Mrs. Taylor and held the toy in firmly, not moving. Michelle was shaking now, her body jerking and twitching, trying so hard to get off. "Shit...shit...oh please...please..." and she was peaking. "Oh my God...oh my God...fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck....shittttt..." and she came. 

Her body was almost twisted against the ropes, loose as they were. She heaved up until the ropes stopped her and she screamed. "Ohhhh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit...shit. FUCK...FUCK...FUCK!" and she collapsed. 

Mrs. Taylor's finger was still in the girl's ass and she held it there, giving it a few strokes that made Michelle gasp. "Stop...stop...give me a minute..." Mrs. Taylor smiled and eased off the anal but with the vibrator turned lower, reapplied it. The teen arched her back and tried to move away. "Now, now sweetness, we can't have that," and she went to tighten the ropes, starting with the ankles, pulling the girl back. Then she tightened the wrist ropes, giving the now helpless teen a bit of body stretch. Then, with a seriously evil smile, she took the thigh ropes and tightened them, pulling the girls knees farther apart and moving them towards her own hands. Michelle was now taught. Her legs were pulled back, her arms pulled forwards and her knees were pinned to the bed. All she could really move was her head. "Now, my sweetness...let's try that again."

"Oh my God, "murmured the girl. "What am I in for?" She said it in a tone that was clearly intended to encourage more fun. 

"Well, my sweetness, my special love child, let's find out, shall we?" Mrs. Taylor paused and then gave Michelle a light smack on her pinned ass. "Let's see...where to start...I know...how about four or five goes with my toy here? Does that sound good? Do you like that idea, my sweetness?" 

Michelle groaned in false apprehension, not knowing that Mrs. Taylor was serious and then some. "Four or five?' she asked. "I'll die." 

"Oh no, you won't, sweetness. You may want to, but you won't. You'll see. Shall we begin?"

Mrs. Taylor took a few minutes to savour the scene. The girl was blindfolded, restrained except for her head and was glistening with the sweat of her last orgasm. Her lovely teen body was splayed out for some serious sexual abuse and the poor girl was unaware of what was coming. Mrs. Taylor ran her hands over the girl, top to bottom, both sides, slow and sensuously. 

Michelle murmured and relaxed at the touch. A generous amount of lube was again applied to the teen, as Mrs. Taylor didn't want any friction impeding her hands. She massaged and stroked the girl like a true lover would. "Sweetness my love...you are a very lucky girl...now you get to feel like few women will ever get to feel in their entire life." 

Michelle sighed luxuriously. "I'm yours," she said naively. "Fuck me until the sun rises." 'Oh, I will,' thought Mrs. Taylor. 'Too bad you just might not like it.'

Back to the beginning was her thought. Get the girl begging for orgasmic release and then don't let her out of it. Yes, she thought, that's what I'll do. I'll make you come until you can't stand it, then maybe four or five more. Taking the Rabbit, she started on her quest. 

"I love that thing," murmured Michelle, as it started to buzz against her most sensitive spots. "I do too, sweetness, I do too." In minutes, Michelle was moaning. 

Her young body, restrained and unable to move, was now shaking with the pleasure. Mrs. Taylor took a few more minutes to expertly bring her up to climax and the teen shrieked, "Yes! Yes!" then came. A wondrous body tremble was followed by a long moan of sexual ecstasy. 

With the toy only partly withdrawn, she was gasping and wiggling like a puppy. Giving her only a moment's rest, Mrs. Taylor went to work again. "Oh God! Another one?" the girl sighed. "Yes, my sweetness, another three or four perhaps." 

With Mrs. Taylor's expert ministrations and gentle vocal urges, the second orgasm came quickly and Michelle was now tugging against the restraints. "No, no, sweetness, stay where you are. The night is young." 

Mrs. Taylor wondered how long it would be before the girl was asking to be released. She was gasping for breath as the Rabbit entered her again. Mrs. Taylor slowed it down and enjoyed her work. "Oh my fucking God, will you stop?" pleaded Michelle. "I'm done here. And undo this stuff." 

"Oh now, now sweetness, I don't think so. Let me see..." and she looked closely at Michelle's splayed ass and sex. "Looks good here, so let's just..." and in went the Rabbit. Michelle tried to move forward and away but her ankle ropes were tight. With her thighs tied to her own wrists, she couldn't close her legs. "Come, come now, my young lover, trying to go somewhere?" Mrs. Taylor grabbed the collar and pulled it back, arching the girl's neck. Then she released it and turned up the toy. 

"Look, I've had enough, now stop this shit!" Mrs. Taylor gave a mocking laugh. "I really don't think you're in any position to dictate terms, my young plaything. In fact...the only position you're in...is rather interesting...don't you agree?" 

Michelle now knew her folly and her knees were shaking. "Just enjoy it, sweetness, and I'll let you know when I'm through with you. But don't hold your breathe. It'll be a while." 

Michelle started to cry, both in fear and in anger. "Let me go...please...just let me go..." Mrs. Taylor thought it time to lay down the law and went to her suitcase, taking out a riding crop. She walked around the bed, tapping the blindfolded girl gently. "Rule number one...there are no rules in here but my rules." Smack! She brought the crop down on the teen's thigh. 

Michelle squealed in pain. "Shit! That hurt, you bitch!" Mrs. Taylor took careful aim at the girl's labia and brought down the crop. Michelle tried to leap in pain, but got nowhere. "There are no rules for me, but I do suggest you call me 'Mistress' and not 'bitch'. So, let's try that again," and she smacked Michelle's thigh. 




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 03



Mrs. Taylor woke up feeling refreshed and well. Previously, she'd had a few problems sleeping after some of her earliest encounters but her then boyfriend, now husband, helped her deal with that. She got out of bed, used the bathroom and wondered down to the kitchen.

Mrs. Taylor felt slightly uneasy about her night with Michelle. The girl was almost completely willing. 'Probably wanted it all' was her thought, 'even the anal strap-on stuff'. However, it had been fun, but not quite the type of fun she had been looking for. Not enough fear or coercion, at least not enough real fear. Michelle's protests were perhaps just part of her game. 

'No', she thought. At the end, she was in serious pain and was likely frightened out of her wits. She closed her eyes and saw once again Michelle's gorgeous body restrained and open...vulnerable. Then she pictured herself behind her, anally raping her with the vaginal dildo attached to her strap-on. She could almost feel the pleasure as the base of the strap-on worked her clit while she rode that girl's ass. She gave herself a quick vulva fondle and sighed. 

She had some breakfast with some tea, read a bit of the morning paper and thought about her day. Her husband wasn't expected back for two days, possibly longer. For some reason her exploits over the previous evening had left her hungry for more. She knew that it was the seduction, betrayal and abuse that she craved more than simple sex. Her husband had taught her that there was little point in having vanilla sex when there were so many other flavours to try. 

What to do...what to do. Everything around the house was up to date. No specific chores need doing. Even the lawns looked good. A mystery tour, now that sounded good,' she thought. 'That's it, a mystery tour with no real plans. Pack a few things; get in the car and drive. No fancy outfits, no diabolical schemes, just a day or two in the countryside.' 

After her morning shower, she got dressed in a 'school mom' outfit; plain summer blouse and shorts, tennis shoes and a touch of simple make up, topped off with some inexpensive looking earrings and a necklace. Her last touch was a plain wedding band. 

Packing a small suitcase with a conservative two piece bathing suit, some lingerie, more 'school mom' clothes and only a minimum of sexual extras, she was ready. 

She had never been to the area to her west. It was summer camp and cottage country. In other words, it was boring. But she often set herself a challenge. She tossed her few things in the car and was off. An hour later she was reasonably lost but unconcerned. She was passing lakes, small communities, the odd farm and even a few tractors on the road. She simply kept on going where the road took her and ended up in a small holiday town on yet another lake. She cruised around and saw lots of families at the beach, groups of teenagers just hanging around and generally not much. 'Perfect,' she thought. 'Girl, if you can roll someone here, you can do it anywhere.'

Driving away from the beach she entered a well kept neighbourhood of older houses and saw a sign advertising a bed and breakfast. 'Now there's a challenge,' she thought. 'Hotel rooms make things easy. This will be interesting.'

She pulled up and got out. Knocking on the door, it was opened by an older woman who smiled and said "Hello". 

"Do you have a room available?' asked Mrs. Taylor. "I was literally just passing by and saw your sign." 

The elderly woman smiled and said, "Yes, I only have the one room for guests and it's available. How many nights are you planning on staying?"

Mrs. Taylor wasn't sure, so she said, "Two." 

"Lovely," replied the lady. Let's get you checked in." 

It was a pretty place. The house was older but immaculately maintained. Her room, with its own entrance was well furnished, spotlessly clean and smelled of the fresh cut flowers in a vase on a table. The owner seemed pleased to accept cash, while Mrs. Taylor signed in using a false identity. The woman smiled and pointing at Mrs. Taylor's wedding band, asked, "You're here by yourself?" 

"Yes," was her previously made up explanation. "My husband is serving overseas and the house is getting painted. I just had to get away from the fumes." 

The owner gave an understanding smile. "Well, if there's anything you need, just ask. Breakfast is served at eight and if you want to sleep in, that's okay. I can always make you something later. The beach is two blocks away. Feel free to take a beach towel if you want. I have to go out for the rest of the day, but I'll be back about nine this evening." 

Mrs. Taylor thanked the woman and was left alone. The beach was a good place to start looking. She got out of her clothes, into the bathing suit and put back on the blouse and shorts. Pocketing the key and taking a beach towel, she was on her way.

The beach was filled with families on holiday, groups of teens and a few people by themselves. There was a lifeguard up on a tower. He looked to be about sixteen. 'Good looking guy' she thought. She stopped at a concession and got a cold drink. A young girl, perhaps sixteen again, took her money. 'Beautiful girl' she thought, 'but she's working'. 

No problem, the beach was full of young people. She spread out her towel close to two groups of teens and made a bit of a show about taking off her outer clothes and applying sunscreen. She did manage to turn more than a few of the younger boys' heads. Smiling, she lay down and let the sun and sand warm her.

She almost dozed off. Then, feeling quite warm on her front, she turned over and undoing her top, let the straps fall to the sides and then lay on her tummy. She listened to the sounds of children playing, music from several boom boxes and the general chatter. At least two of the closer boys were interested in the fact that her top was undone. Just barely audible, she heard, "Maybe we should pour some water on her back and make her jump." 

"You do it, then."

"No. You do it. It's your idea."

"Chicken!" 

"As if you aren't!" 

Mrs. Taylor was amused. The thought of giving the young boys a thrill was exciting. 'Just do it' she thought. But they didn't. 'Well, I'll just have to improvise', she mused. Pretending a mosquito had landed on her back, she reached behind to swat it, lifting up a bit and exposing her breast on one side. Then she resettled as if nothing had happened. 

Again, a barely audible reaction was heard. "Shit! Did you see that?" 

"Of course I did, numb nuts." 

"Please, lady, do it again." 

"For Christ sake, keep your voice down!"

"Shut up yourself!" 

Mrs. Taylor was almost giggling at their adolescent behaviour. She hadn't really gotten a good look at the boys and wondered how old they might be. Reaching back, she did up the top and sat up. Moving to face the lake, she took a few sips of her drink and just gazed around, trying to look like she was unaware of the boy's attention. With her sunglasses on she could look out of the corner of her eyes without being obvious. 

They were below her, closer to the water and looked to be about twelve or thirteen, well into puberty but still kids. She reapplied sunscreen unnecessarily but it made for an excuse to touch her self. She needlessly applied some under her top, acting like she was oblivious to the world. Then she worked some into her thighs, spreading her legs to do so. Then she stood up and did the back of her legs and again went under her suit, massaging her own ass. She could see their eyes glued to her body. Then she sat down, one leg out, one knee up and trying to look as sexy as possible, took a few more sips. The boys were smiling at each other like they were sharing a secret. She glanced at them like she had just seen them and gave a simple smile. Her mind was working up a plan. 

Knowing the boys weren't going anywhere as long as she was performing, she finished her drink. Looking at the empty bottle with a slight frown, she got up and stretched, then rolled her shoulders as if stiff, getting her breasts thrust out several times. Then she walked to the concession, with a bit of extra movement to her hips. Coming back with another drink, she bent over to put it down, giving the boys a peek down her top. Then standing up straight, she adjusted her bathing suit, sat down with her legs parted and knees up. 

Her covered pussy was at eye level for the boys and from behind her sunglasses, she could see them staring. The suit wasn't very revealing at all but she did have a good camel toe on display. Again, she glanced right at them and smiled. They both looked away pretended not to be interested. Good, she thought. They are interested. 'Now, how to get them talking?' she wondered. 'The easy way always worked.'

She looked at them again, and gave them the 'come here' gesture. They looked at each other, and then back at her. One of them pointed to himself with a questioning look on his face. She nodded 'yes' and they slowly got up and came over, looking very uncertain. 

"Sit down," she said, smiling, and they did. "Are you two from around here?" 

They nodded 'yes' and that got them talking. She chatted with them, asking their names, asking about the town, the lake and a few things to get them relaxed. She told them she was staying at the Emerald Lake B&B. 

"You mean at old lady Carter's place?" one of the asked. "She's weird." 

Mrs. Taylor looked puzzled and asked, "What do you mean?" 

The boy, who's name was Bobby, said, "She...sometimes gets...a little too friendly with people." 

The other boy, Derrick, said, "Some of the guys in town say she's..." He paused and blushed. 

"She's what?" asked Mrs. Taylor, her face keeping a simple and sincere smile. "You can tell me. I certainly won't pass it on." 

Derrick said," Promise?" and Mrs. Taylor nodded 'yes'. "Well, a guy I know told me she once...talked him into her place and...showed him...you know...her..." 

Mrs. Taylor said nothing and just kept looking interested. Derrick blushed again and said, "She showed him her...breasts and her...privates." 

Mrs. Taylor feigned surprise and raised her eyebrows. "She did that? She showed him her body like that?"

Derrick, now encouraged went on. "Oh yeah, and he said she...touched him...you know...on his...privates. And he said she...gave him a...BJ. Of course, he could have made it all up." 

Bobby looked at his friend and said, "No he didn't. Other guys have said things like that too. My brother said she let his friend Andrew have real sex and everything. He said that ever since old man Carter died, she's...well...giving it away." 

Mrs. Taylor looked a bit sceptical. "Are you sure? Rumours have a way of getting around." 

Bobby looked at her with his eyes wide open. "I think its true, and half the town does as well." 

She looked at them and asked, "Have either of you ever been over at her place? Has she let you have what she's...giving away?" 

Derrick blushed deeply. Bobby just smiled and said, "No, but if she wants to, I'd go along." 

"No you wouldn't," said Derrick. 

"Shut up, numb nuts. I would so. Just because you're a little boy doesn't mean I am." Mrs. Taylor smiled inwardly at their posturing. 

Derrick squared his shoulders and said, "How do you know I haven't...already?" 

Now Bobby laughed at his friend. "Right! Karen Price tried to get into your pants and you wouldn't let her." 

Derrick blushed again. "Karen Price is a liar. She's the one that chickened out, not me." 

Bobby looked like he was trying not to burst out laughing. "She didn't chicken out on me, numb nuts." 

Derrick blushed again at the insult and the implied message that his friend had bested him in the case of the girl. "Karen Price is a little..." 

Bobby gloated, "Yes, she's a little slut. Not that it did you any good. In fact, I'm going to her place later. Want to come along and see how it's done?" Derrick reddened and said nothing. 

"I thought so," said Bobby. "You don't even have the balls to watch." 

Mrs. Taylor took advantage of her opportunity. "Bobby, you don't have to act this way. You're being rude. In fact, maybe you should leave now." 

The thoughts in Bobby's head, getting together with Karen and maybe even getting lucky, made him agreeable. "No problem," he said. He got up, gathered his things and started to walk away, then turned and said, "See you later, numb nuts. I've got a date with Karen. She can't get enough!" He thrust out his hips in a gesture of fucking.

Derrick looked very unhappy. Mrs. Taylor suspected he had a crush on Karen and dreaded the thought of his so called friend touching her. "He's really not a very nice guy, is he?" she said. 

Derrick paused, and then said, "He's not bad. But he thinks he knows everything. He doesn't."

"Well," started Mrs. Taylor, "a lot of boys your age are full of talk. It doesn't mean they know anything you don't." 

Derrick looked thoughtful. "Bobby likes to talk all right. Maybe I should be going now, too. It's been nice talking to you." 

Mrs. Taylor smiled at the boy. "Derrick, I think you should talk to Karen. I think you two should...get to know each other a little better."

Derrick thought a moment and asked," What do you mean?" 

"Well," she said, "if Karen really did try to...get into your pants..." Derrick blushed again. "Then maybe you should think about...letting her." She gave the boy a gentle smile. "Go and see her right now...before Booby...see what happens." Derrick looked at her hopefully. 

"Really?...I mean serious...should I?" 

"Yes, Derrick. Seriously...do it...do it now." 

He got up with a new look of confidence in his eyes and nodded his head up and down. "Thanks, lady. I'm going to do just that." And then with a big grin on his face he walked away.

Mrs. Taylor smiled to herself. 'The kid's got to start sometime, why not now?' she thought and then her thoughts turned to lunch. That got her thinking about the beautiful young girl at the concession stand. She had been wearing a simple tee shirt that hugged her adolescent body and her bra had done little to conceal the two little buds of nipple that Mrs. Taylor had focused on. The shirt was tucked into tight fitting shorts that curved beautifully over an athletically firm ass that had the tingles starting deep in Mrs. Taylor's pelvis. 

Flawless legs, blonde hair in a ponytail and a face that probably made all the guys limp made for an altogether sensuously erotic sight. 'If it wasn't such a small town'...Mrs. Taylor let her mind imagine that young vision of delight on top of her in a hot, sweaty, wet and luscious sixty-nine, the girls mouth driving waves of sublime sensation from her clitoris straight to her soul. She saw the girl's incredible ass right in front of her eyes as she lapped at her vaginal wetness and ran her hands all over the globes of her ass, then back to the young clit that was firm and so close to sending the girl for the fifth time. 

Then as they both started squirming, clutching and tightening, two orgasms built as one until they were calling out in unison...the girl's creamy milky cum flowing into Mrs. Taylor's waiting mouth. Then they were cuddled together, hot, wet bodies pressed together, breasts against breasts, mouths locked and souls entwined. 

Mrs. Taylor came back with a startle. Her hand was at her vulva and she had been masturbating there on the beach. In seconds she was laughing to herself and she sat up, looking around. If any one had seen her open pleasuring, no one seemed to be letting her know. 'Small town,' she thought. 'If this had happen at the beach back at my favourite adult resort, some guy would be banging me by now. Oh well, I came here to be challenged.'

She got up, slipped her clothes back on, shook out her towel and headed back to the B+B. The mental image of herself and that girl soon had her walking by the concession. A young guy was chatting her up and she seemed indifferent. 'That's right, girl. You can be choosy.' Mrs. Taylor was tempted to eavesdrop so she walked towards the concession and stood back as if waiting to be served. 

"Come on, Becky, you know you want to go out with me." 

The girl was looking annoyed. "If I did, I'd say yes. I don't." 

"Yes you do. You just don't know it yet. It'll be fun."

"Yeah, like Janice had fun. You're a creep, Greg, now leave me alone. I'm busy," glancing past the guy to look at Mrs. Taylor.

Greg turned back, gave Mrs. Taylor a sour look and went back to hitting on Becky. "She can wait. I'm first and I'm not leaving until you say yes." 

Becky rolled her eyes and said in a low voice, "Get lost. I know you and I'd rather not. Leave me alone."

"You know babe, I love girls who play hard to get. They're always so much more fun." With that he turned again and gave Mrs. Taylor a lecherous looking over, then a sneer. "You'll come around, baby. Your type always does," and with that he gave Mrs. Taylor a last dirty look and walked off. 

The girl looked relieved as Mrs. Taylor walked up to the counter. "What can I get for you?" she asked in a somewhat shaken voice. 

Mrs. Taylor asked, "Who is that guy? He was really giving you a hard time." 

The girl said, "It's okay. He's just a creep. High school dropout, bad boy around town who likes to...." She paused and went back to being the concession worker. "Can I help you?" 

Mrs. Taylor was already hatching a plot. "Yes, but...this guy...I couldn't help overhear you say something about...Janice wasn't it..." 

The girl looked very unhappy at the mention of that name. "Really...I shouldn't talk about it...I mean...I don't know for sure..." 

Mrs. Taylor was all ears. "No, please. Go ahead. That guy was really rude to you. What happened?" 

The girl was quiet for a moment and then said in a sad voice, "Well, Janice, she's not really a friend, but I know her...we go to school...well, she went out with Greg. He's older than us...and she...she said that he..." Her voice trailed off and she looked down. 

Mrs. Taylor gave her a sympathetic look and said, "Go on. You can talk about it. I'm just visiting. This won't go anywhere." 

The girl looked a bit more assured and finally said, "Well, Janice told her friend...that Greg...well, he almost raped her. He forced her...and she didn't want to...and..." 

Mrs. Taylor put her hand out and the girl took it across the counter. "The police were involved and...well...it was just her word against his...and the police said they really couldn't do anything...she had been drinking and..." 

Mrs. Taylor looked at the girl with concerned eyes. "You said that he...almost raped her...what did you mean?" 

Becky just clenched her teeth, obviously angry at the memory, then said, "He forced her to give him...oral...he just...pushed it in...to her mouth...and wouldn't let her stop...Janice said she was crying and he was laughing...." 

"Oh, that poor girl," said Mrs. Taylor, with false sincerity. 'It could have been so much worse' she thought to herself, 'and so much more fun for Greg.'

Becky was getting misty eyed, and then a look of concern filled her face. "Don't tell anyone I said this. He's...he's got a temper and...I don't want him to know..." 

"Don't worry dear, I won't tell anyone. Are you...afraid of him?" 

The look on her face gave the answer before she did, "I've heard that...he can get really mean...especially if he's been drinking...which he does a lot." 

"How old is he? He doesn't look old enough to buy alcohol." Mrs. Taylor was hoping for the right answer and she got it. "No, he's eighteen, but he always seems to have lots of the stuff around. I hear he has a bootlegger to get it for him. His family's rich. He thinks he can have anything he wants...including me...but he can't" 

"Well...Becky isn't it...just stay away from him. He really sounds like trouble." 




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 03



'And my kind of guy,' she added to herself. "Well, I should be off, Becky. Thank you for confiding in me. Us girl's have to stick together," she added with a smile. Becky nodded her head. 

'So the guy is only eighteen and he likes to have fun with the girls. Perfect. I think I'll try and give him some.' Mrs. Taylor walked back to the B+B with her mind going all the way. 

Her quick packing of that morning hadn't included some of the supplies she thought might prove very entertaining to Greg. In particular she lacked her favourite chemical additive, a tablet that her husband had come across that acted as a very rapid sedative leaving people very venerable, but unlike the date rape drugs, wore off very quickly and left them fully aware of whatever interesting situation they found themselves in. 

Back in her room, Mrs. Taylor thought about going back home to stock up but then remembered that about an hour north of this sleepy little town was a much larger city that she knew had a shop with all she would need, except for the tablets. 'No problem' she thought. 'If he's the guy I think he is, I won't need them.' 

It was only one in the afternoon. She had plenty of time. Getting in her car, she headed out of town, got onto the main highway and headed north. Greg, if he was both very lucky and very unlucky would have an interesting evening. He was supposed to have both money and an attitude, so in a small town he shouldn't be hard to find. And because he had already expressed an attitude towards her, he would be easily manipulated into thinking her way. All she had to do was have him think it was his way. Tables would be turned when she was ready. He wouldn't think to see it coming. 'Coming...oh yes, that he will see coming,' she thought. 

On the outskirts of the city she pulled over to get gas and took out her Blackberry. Looking up the shop, she got an address and the maps in the phone directed her to her destination. It was a typical sex shop but she had heard the good stuff was in the back.

She walked in and glanced around at the usual displays of vibrators, cheap skanky lingerie and porn DVDs. She walked up to the counter where a tattooed and pierced young woman in Goth was flipping through a magazine. Skin Art. She took her time looking up and didn't seem impressed by Mrs. Taylor's 'school mom' attire. "Sure you're in the right place, lady?" was her only greeting.

Her black and tattered tee shirt that ended around her belly button, was doing little to conceal the lack of a bra. Her small and sagging breasts looked like a pair of fried eggs. Not a trace of nipple was evident. The tee shirt advertised a Goth band with the name 'Suck It'. Around her waist was a black skirt, pleated and decorated with large pins and several chains. Bare legs ended in what looked like construction boots, dirty and worn. Her hair was typical Goth, dyed black and cut in a caricature of disarray. Through it ran a few streaks of blood red. Her tattoos looked amateur and designed to offend. Across her lower abdomen was the image of a girl's spread legs, a mound of black pubic hair and an open and bleeding vagina. Mrs. Taylor looked closer and saw a tattooed snake's head emerging, mouth open and fangs dripping poison. 'Enter At Your Own Risk' was written below in flowing script. 

"I'd like to look in the back. I have a few special things to get for a special evening," Mrs. Taylor said, studiously ignoring the other tattoos. 

The uninterested clerk shrugged her shoulders and said, "What back? If you don't see it here, try Bloomindales." 

"Anybody else work here, sweetie?' smirked Mrs. Taylor. "Especially someone who works on commission?" 

That got her attention. "Watcha lookin' for?" she said without looking up. 

Mrs. Taylor was getting annoyed. "Open up the back and send someone in who's not right out of special class. And no, that's not you, sweetie." Mrs. Taylor had a quick look and noticed a door behind a rack of sexy costumes. "I'll be over there," she said and walking over, pulled the rack out of the way. 

The clerk looked a bit put off. "Look, I just work here. The boss is out and I'm not supposed to let strangers back there." She had walked over and was looking uncertain.

Mrs. Taylor took her wallet out of her purse, pulled out some one hundred dollar bills, flashed them and said, "I'm Ben Franklin. Here's my ID. Now open the fucking door." 

With that the clerk took a key out of her pocket, opened the door and said, "Take your time. If you need me, just stick your head out." Then she reached in and turned on the lights. Mrs. Taylor walked in and shut the door behind her.

She stood and looked over the room. This was just the shop she was looking for. On the walls were handcrafted whips, crops, various types of restraints and gags. On some racks and displayed on the walls was a very impressive assortment of what looked to be high quality leather goods; bras, bustiers, panties, corsets, crotchless pants and a few cat suits. On another rack were various men's leather clothes, masks, full head covers and hats. 

There was a rack of every imaginable type of woman's boots, shoes, masks, and hats. There were display cases of nipple clamps, weights, labia and clit clamps, mouth spreaders and pins. In another display were various high quality toys. Gleaming stainless steel sculptured dildos, vibrators, anal plugs, ben wa balls, eggs and some high end butterflies and rabbits. Sex furniture, slings, suspension equipment and various supplies of ropes and chains were there. And finally, the good lingerie with fine silk in abundance. 'All right!' thought Mrs. Taylor.

First she looked over the lingerie. As much as she adored some of the leather clothing, she preferred to have it custom made. To get Greg in the mood wasn't going to require anything special but some drop dead lingerie always helped. Her practiced eye quickly found a set in stunning black with bright red trim, a little white lace and yes...they had her size. She quickly slipped out of her clothes and the bathing suit she was wearing. Then on went the garter belt that had real rubber and ring clasps for real stockings. Then the bra which with a little adjustment gave her breasts that perfect slight lift and sculpted shape that men melted over. Stockings were something she couldn't see, at least the real ones. Mrs. Taylor opened the door and called for the clerk who was again reading a magazine. She looked up and saw Mrs. Taylor standing there with no panties and raised her eyebrows in surprise. She walked over, not doing a good job of avoiding looking at Mrs. Taylor from head to toe, concentrating on the middle. 

"I need a pair of black, fish-net silk stockings, the kind with the line up the back," Mrs, Taylor said, ignoring the clerk's wandering eyes. 

The clerk had a good look up and down the bare legs in front of her. "Yeah...I think I can find some...wait here."

Mrs. Taylor went back into the room leaving the door open. Checking over the boots and shoes she spotted exactly what she wanted. High heeled open shoes with wrap around thin straps that went around her ankles. She had just put them on and was walking about and checking how they altered her posture when the clerk came back with the stockings.

Mrs. Taylor gave her a false smile and sat down on a chair. to remove the shoes and put on the stockings. She made no effort to dismiss the clerk and went about donning the stockings, making sure the girl got good views of her unadorned femininity. Doing her best to make attaching silk stockings to the clasps a sexual display, she then sat down and slowly put on the shoes, then, putting out a foot, said, "Could you please help me with these straps?' delivered with a sincere smile. 

The girl, who was no obviously turned on, got down and as she went to work on one, Mrs. Taylor casually put her other leg over the arm of the chair, giving the girl an unobstructed close up of her clean shaven vulva. The girl fumbled her way through the first shoe and Mrs. Taylor took down her other leg and offered that foot. Then she leaned forward and ran her hand all over her vulva and pubic area. 

Looking concerned she asked the girl, "Do you think I need a fresh shave? This is good enough for a guy but...for a girl...I'm not sure...what do you think?" 

The girl focused on getting the second shoe done and then looked directly at the areas in question. Then she reached out and softly stroked the skin. Her facial expression was now soft and her mouth was slightly open. Mrs. Taylor, with her best sexy, sultry voice, urged the girl on. "Use a more sensitive part of you...think like a woman..." and let her voice trail off. 

The girl said, "Give me a minute", got up and went out the door. Mrs. Taylor heard the front door being locked and a few seconds later, the girl was back. Still in the chair, Mrs. Taylor gave the girl an encouraging smile and then leaned back. "I put up the 'closed' sign," the girl said. 

She felt surprisingly gentle touches, soft kisses and tender caresses and strokes. 'Perhaps this girl has values after all,' she thought as she felt her labia being gently parted. After a few moments of the girl's appraisal, a warm and expert tongue began to explore all Mrs. Taylor's offered treasures. Minutes passed as soft feminine lips and fingers cherished soft feminine gifts. Then the girl got up, leaned forward and whispered, "I'll just get a few things." 

Mrs. Taylor said nothing but watched as the girl opened a display cabinet and selected some toys. She then offered her hand and helped Mrs. Taylor up and guided her to a piece of sex furniture and had her lay down. It was a sculpted settee and it formed to her body as she settled in for her pleasuring. 

The girl slowly went to work with her mouth and tongue; sensuously giving Mrs. Taylor the kind of oral that one woman gives to another. With an anal penetration toy that the girl had surreptitiously applied some lube that gave off a scent of jasmine, she gently teased around before taking a full minute to penetrate. In a few short moments, Mrs, Taylor's ass felt wonderfully warm. "Ohhh...that is nice," she murmured. 

The girl just gave a particularly exquisite suckling to her clitoris and sensuously and slowly entered Mrs. Taylor's vagina with what felt like three fingers, going straight to her G. 'Oh yeah,' Mrs. Taylor thought, 'let's get it on!.'The toy in her ass started to make subtle movements that raised the local temperature several degrees. 'Note to self,' Mrs. Taylor thought. 'Get some of that stuff.' 

With her eyes still closed and her head still back and relaxed, Mrs. Taylor was in mild awe of the girl's skills. She was doing a good job of making each pleasure spot the focus of her attention in rotation. Mrs. Taylor's clitoris would be giving her increasing waves of feminine ecstasy and then would ease off while her ever warming ass would be probed deeper as it was perfectly stretched. Then that would slow down as her G was steadily and increasingly massaged and pressed. As the girl rotated through her rounds Mrs. Taylor was starting to stretch languidly, her hips very slowly imitating a Tahitian dancer's pelvic delights. 

Her hands went to her bra covered breasts and massaged them through the satin smooth silk. Her nipples were two solid buds of pleasure that she started to squeeze in rhythm with whatever pleasures the girl was applying to her lower centres of increasing sexual power. Murmurs of pleasure were being followed by low moans and small gasps as the girl perfectly brought her up and up the stairway to earthly heaven. 

As Mrs. Taylor's pelvis did an ever increasing Tahitian dance the girl eased off her clitoral stimulations and held her finger tips steadily on the now firm and ridged vaginal tissue underlying Mrs. Taylor's ready to burst G spot. The anal toy surrounded by the now very warm anal canal was held steady as well and Mrs. Taylor knew the girl was inviting her to do the Tahitian dance and use the girl's fingers and toy to bring herself to the orgasm of her own timing. 

"Go girl...fuck yourself silly", she urged the woman in front of her. "Fuck my fingers...fuck until you melt...I want your cum all over me...I want to see you coming so hard...come for me, girl...come for me..."

Mrs. Taylor was impressed. The girl was far more skilled than her earlier attitude had suggested. With a long and honest sigh, she slowly did exactly what the girl wanted. As the fingers in her vagina were held steady, Mrs. Taylor used them as her own living G spot dildo. Slowly and steadily, she moved her pelvis in an increasing dance of sexual self fulfillment. "Hummmm...hummmmm...hummmmmmmm..." she murmured as she forced her G down against the girl's firmly set fingers.

"Oh yeah, girl...oh yeah...that's it...now you're fucking..." The girl was also impressed. The 'soccer mom' had some skills of her own. "Do it, girl...do it...come so hard for me...oh yeah...it's coming...can feel it now, girl...it's coming...it's happening, girl..."

Mrs. Taylor was an expert at self gratification and she was putting on a serious display of her talents. Her breathing was deep and steady. She knew that a little calming was the key to climbing the highest of orgasmic mountains. Maintaining her rhythm, she ever so slowly used more and more pelvic Tahitians to get her where she wanted to go. 

"Oooohhh.....ooohhhh....yessss......yessss.....yesssss! Yessss!! YESSS!!!!"

With a last few contractions down onto the girl's fingers, Mrs. Taylor was peaking. She arched her back, thrusting her pelvis down and tried her best to crush the fingers that held her in the bonds of sexual pressure. Pressure so powerful she was about to burst. 

With a last gasp for air, she let out a bellowing groan and was coming. Her body tensed and then was trembling. 

"FUCKKKK!! FUCKKKK!!! FUCKKKK!!!" she called out as three waves of ecstasy washed over her very soul. 

"Still coming...still coming...oh shit! Still coming," she cried out in a high pitched voice of near pain. "Oh my God...another...another..." and she squeezed down on the fingers until a second Big One had her shaking. 

The girl was now very, very impressed. "Fucking A! Look at you, girl. Serious...fucking A!"

"Don't move!" ordered Mrs. Taylor in a hiss and she again was gyrating and squeezing down. Her eyes bored into those of the girl, who was now looking back with wide eyed wonder. "One more...just one more..." and her eyes were shut as she worked on a third.

"Fuck me," the girl murmured in appreciation. "You're good. Go for it, girl..." and Mrs. Taylor did.

She grabbed the hand that was so good to her and drew it in harder. "Fist me...god yes...do it...do it..." Mrs. Taylor pleaded in all sincerity. "Fuck me so hard...get it all in there...pump me till I'm gone..." Her request was not to be denied, not that the girl had any ideas about stopping now.

"Fucking A, girl...fucking, fucking A!" and with well a moistened hand, she put all her fingers and her thumb to Mrs. Taylor's cum slicked vagina. 

She had to push firmly when her hand was almost but not quite there. Mrs. Taylor gave out a gasp of painful pleasure and taking the girl's wrist again, supplied the needed extra effort to get all of the girl's hand into her willing stretched and aching vagina. As it slipped in, she gave out a low moan of pleasure and expectation. "Go for it, my Goth clad lover," she murmured. Let me feel you. Ohhhh....ohhhh...yesssss..." as she felt the girl's hand form a fist and start to rotate.

Mrs. Taylor went limp against the sex chair and sighed. Her wet, wet vagina was now filled and she was drinking in the pleasure of another woman's movements in her, relishing the sensation of the stretch and the fullness deep inside. 

The Goth girl doing the fisting was also relishing the feeling of her hand deep and completely in the vagina right in front of her face. The sweet, sweet sucking sounds she was creating were music to her ears. She pulled back with her hand as open as she could get it, feeling the tight, slippery resistance as she was stretching Mrs. Taylor's vagina until it threatened to rip. 

'God! That hurts so good!" Mrs. Taylor hissed and meant it. The girl kept up the pressure until Mrs. Taylor was gasping and starting to shake. "PULL! Goddamn it!" she cried and the girl did. When it looked like she was about to split open her new lover, her hand popped out with a loud sucking sound. "Again!" Mrs. Taylor pleaded. 

Back in went the girl's hand with no trace of gentleness. She now knew what kind of a woman was in her store. "Fucking A, girl...fucking A! You had me fooled when you walked in here but I've got your number now." She smiled in a devilish way. "Brace yourself, Bridget," she said in an imitation of a male Australian voice. "The old cunny's gonna get a real Fair Dinkum walkabout now."

With that, she proceeded to make good on her threat. Gone was the earlier tenderness and feminine touch. Now she was going to really fuck the woman. She was going to work her vagina until it was well and truly fucked. Gone were her earlier soft and loving words. Now it was time for some serious sex. Her kind of sex, hard and unforgiving. 'Fuck 'em if they can't take a fuck' kind of sex. 'Safe words are for kids' kind of sex. 'It's all about me...not you...Bitch!' kind of sex. The Goth girl was now back in her element. Fisting was one of her passions. Making a girl cry, she had come so hard, was another. Making her cry some more was a third. 'Well, girl,' she thought, 'time to see what you've got.'

She started with a long and vigorous session of pumping and twisting. Her fist was no longer a love tool. It was a sex weapon. Her objective was no longer the woman's pleasures. It was getting her so fucked that she would be begging for it all to end. It was getting her so over stimulated that she would be about to have a seizure. It was about making orgasms painful. So far, she hadn't seen any sign that the woman who owned the vagina she was fucking had any limits. She was very interested in finding out.

The woman was just lying there, relaxed and happy. Having her vagina fisted was obviously something she had enjoyed on many an occasion. The girl felt no vaginal tightenings or movement whatsoever. She moved her thumb up as best she could and went to work on the G spot that she already had made go off several times.

For almost a full minute there was no sign of progress but the girl was unconcerned. With steady and full strokes, she pumped back and forth, her thumb hard against the top of the woman's vagina. Then with a slight smile, she felt the first stirrings. The woman was on her way.

Very impressed with the degree of control the woman was showing, the girl made sure that her opinion was not so appreciative. "Haven't fucked a lot of older girls...but you seem to have a seriously dead cunt, old girl. My usual girls would be screaming by now. I guess you've had all the nerves in there fucked right out of you. Still fairly tight...I guess you like being fucked by little boys. Little boys with pencil dicks...or little girls with baby carrots." She laughed in a derisive tone. "That's it. You're a vegetarian. Carrots and the odd cucumber...the little ones...pickled...at least that's what you smell like."

Mrs. Taylor had played this game many times before. Her part was to encourage the verbal and sexual abuse. 

"Dream on, tiny tits. I've had cocks bigger than your hand in there, and the only thing seriously dead around here is your brain. You fuck like you're on Valium...or methadone...maybe both. Yeah, I've fucked a few little girls...every one of them had more imagination than you. And every one of them could get me off. You're fucking useless! What's on TV? Something interesting...like a gardening show?"




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 03



The girl came right back, while continuing her fisting. "The only little girls I fuck get it up the ass. Not that you could take it. That hole of yours looks so tight it must be only for shitting. Shitting thin little turds...no thicker than the little boy dicks you love so much. Three inches long and six years old...up your useless cunt after you've sucked them off a few times. Like that six year old cum? Or is it their piss you're after. Yeah, that's it. You get off on little boys pissing in your mouth."

"Little girls too," Mrs. Taylor said with feigned contempt. "Got any around here? Any six year old girls with tits bigger than yours? Must be a lot of them. I certainly had bigger tits when I was six. Could fuck better, too. What are you doing down there? I'm falling asleep for Christ's sake."

In fact, Mrs. Taylor was getting off on the verbal abuse and sexual pleasures. She was having to work at keeping her body still, pretending to be bored. The girl was no stranger to this. She knew her near naked sex partner was getting closer and closer.

"So...just what were you fucking at the age of six? Your pet hampster would seem about right. How long did it take you to shove it up that tiny cunt of yours? All night? Your momma and poppa must have gotten tired of you needing new hampsters every week. Or did you just let the dog lick you. Yeah, that's it. You smeared dog food over that six year old cunt of yours and let the dog do you. At least that's what you did until you had it trained to fuck you...doggy style!" With that, the girl burst out into sarcastic laughter. "God, that must have been a sight! Rover humping your little cunt! And you...on your hands and knees with a dog prick up your little wazoo...unless it was up your ass..." 

Mrs. Taylor was loving it. Her vagina was being fisted by an expert and her head was filled with images of depraved child sex. The thought of watching a little girl being ass humped by a dog was a bent thought, but that just made it all the more pleasurable. 

"Talking from experience, tiny tits? Got a few special pet friends at home right now? Got a fucking big Great Dane to fuck you on demand? Got a serious case of the guys not wanting to fuck you? Dog dick the only dick in your life? Where do you like it, tiny tits? Ass, cunt or mouth? Oh no! All three at once! Must go through a lot of dog food, tiny tits...with three Great Danes to feed. God, now that would be a sight! Tiny tits getting banged by three...count 'em, three...big dog dicks! A regular canine gang bang! Got any pictures?"

The girl was smiling in a knowing way. 'Soccer mom' was turning out to be a real treat during what had been a boring day. She could sense the woman's control as she was approaching orgasm. 'She's good', she admitted to herself. 'Damned good.'

"You know, Bitch for Hire...this fucking dead cunt of yours is starting to annoy me. How in shit did you get off a while ago? Oh...you didn't. Moonlighting as a porn extra? Faking it giving you a regular income? Or is all that noise and body language for your regular customers? That is, any guy with a ten dollar bill. Ten bucks and a hard on. Or do you give it out two for one? Ten bucks and two hard ons. The bigger one in this dead cunt of yours and the little one up that tight, little ass. How much do you make on a Friday night? Ten bucks would be my guess, if the navy is in town."

Mrs. Taylor was close. She let her mind drift to a scene. Two sailors were giving her a DP. Thick, thick cocks were moving in her. Thick cocks stretching and penetrating. Two sailors, fucking her like she was the last fuck on earth...the best fuck on Earth. Two big, buff men, grunting and rutting in both her holes. Hot, sweaty male bodies, above and below, stroking in and out, slow, steady and deep...oh so deep. She felt her vagina being pushed up to her guts and her ass being opened so wide. The men were in perfect rhythm, both thick, hard cocks were going in and out in unison. Both her holes would be almost empty, only to be refilled with serious man meat. Again and again...her body nothing but a living sex doll for the men, who were only interested in their own pleasure. She saw a single ten dollar bill on the floor, on top of her panties. She was a ten dollar hooker getting the fuck of the century. The two men were moaning. They were about to come, their unwrapped cocks ready to fill her with months of pent up cum. The image and the emotions had her ready to come herself. The men were bucking and grunting. She felt two cocks as rigid and hard as oak, throbbing with masculine power. Both men were gasping and then she felt twin jets of hot, hot cum filling her. As it was dripping out of her cheaply priced hooker cunt and ass, she herself was peaking...peaking...peaking...

Mrs. Taylor felt the girl trying to force her thumb completely through the vagina it was fucking. She felt herself forcing her G down...down to that thumb...trying to crush it before it crushed her. The pressure was going to kill her but she took it...and added to it. 

"Fucking A!" murmured the girl. "Fucking, fucking A!" She hadn't seen a woman who could take that kind of vaginal punishment and keep it going, ever before in her life. "Come for me, girl...come for me...fucking A come for me..." Mrs. Taylor gave out a series of short gasps and did just that. She was squeezing on the girl's hand so hard, she heard a whimper of pain. 

"FUCKKK!!" she screamed as she convulsed with the climax. "FUCKKK! FUCKKK! FUCKKK!!" With each howl, she tensed and bucked. The girl was amazed. Then she remembered her role and let her hand expand as much as she could, forcing it against the throbbing vagina surrounding it. She pulled, and pulled, and pulled. 

"SHITTT!!" Mrs. Taylor howled. "YESS! YESS! YESS! Rip that thing!! Fucking RIP that thing!" The girl tried and Mrs. Taylor went primal.

The pain was only matched by the intensity of her second climax. She felt like her vagina was about to deliver a ten pound baby. In seconds, she was all the way back up and mouthing vulgar encouragement. "Fuck my cunt!! Fuck it, Bitch!! Fucking put a hole in it! Yes, yes, yes...YESS!" and with the girls efforts to do vaginal injury, the second waves off orgasm had her thrashing like she was being electrocuted. 

"Fucking, fucking A, you filthy bitch!" the girl was shouting. 'Woo hoo...got a real one here!" Her eyes were wide with sexual excitement. "Got a real bitch coming for me now! Don't stop, girl! Fucking A! Don't stop! Keep 'er going, you fucked up bitch! Call those things getting off? Show me the money, honey! Come like you mean it! You can do it! One...more...time..." 

Mrs. Taylor had no intention of disappointing the girl. She paused only long enough to take in several gasps of air and to look at the girl's eyes. Her own eyes were wide and very much still excited. Her body was dripping sweat and her vagina was dripping girl cum. 'Oh yeah," she hissed. "One more time! One more fucking A time!" and she was going at it again.

The girl was pumping her fist in Mrs. Taylor's vagina like she was pumping for her very life. Her hand was like a jack hammer, and Mrs. Taylor just closed her eyes and took it. "Best you can do, tiny tits? That the best you can do?" she hissed.

The Goth girl liked nothing better than an invitation to try and destroy another woman's vagina. Childbirth couldn't do that and neither could she, but she tried anyway. Mrs. Taylor was partially sitting up to watch the assault on her pummelled vagina. "Fuck that cunt, tiny tits! Fuck it! You can do it! One...more...time..." and she steadied herself. 

"Fuck you, bitch!" the girl hissed through clenched teeth. "Fuck you and every little girl who ever got you off! I'm gonna fuck you to death! You're gonna die!"

"Promises, promises," Mrs. Taylor hissed right back.

The girl tried. She really put her heart into it. Mrs. Taylor wasn't sure if the girl was going to give up exhausted or if vaginal fisting could actually be lethal. Without the copious fluids in her vagina, it was possible it was going to be badly friction burned. The girl was fisting fucking with deadly intent. She was trying to open the deep end and punish the tight opening that her fist was coming back against with anger and fury. She had her wrist horizontal, avoiding too much attention to Mrs. Taylor's G. Her intent was to cause pain, not pleasure. They both knew that sexual pain and sexual pleasure were two sides of the same coin. 

"Liking this now, you filthy bitch? Like your stinking cunt being used as a punching bag? Maybe I should do this in your ass! It couldn't feel any worse than your cum bag cunt!"

Mrs. Taylor was unable to speak for a few seconds. Her eyes were rolled up in her eye sockets and she was bouncing like she was seizuring. It was much worse and much better than she had hoped. She didn't let anyone punish her vagina like this very often but when she wanted it, she wanted it done properly; with no mercy and no limits. She managed to look down to gaze in wonder at the vaginal action she was enduring. Slowly, she was able to mumble some words.

"Just keep it up...tiny tits...I can...do this...all day...long..." The words were given in a shallow and pained whisper that belied her ability to do that. She gasped out in exquisite agonal ecstasy and looked at the girl with unfocused eyes. She then managed a thin smile. "You know...I...won't...ask you...to stop...so...fuck...away...dog dick...fucker..."

The Goth girl had played this game many times before also. It wasn't about who could take or give the most sexual and verbal abuse. It was about respect and admiration. Respect for one's sex partner and admiration for the sexual abuse given and received. The most vulgar of sexual profanities about the other were really verbal tokens of respect. The giving and receiving of the most brutal of sexual punishments were sources of mutual admiration for the giver and receiver both. What really was surprising the Goth girl was how this all arrived in her shop dressed as a 'soccer mom'. 

'Fuck, I'd like to introduce her to a few of the girls...and most of the guys,' she mused. 'This girl could pull a train for thirty-six hours!' She had never met any girl who could go past twelve and she was that girl. 

The girl let Mrs. Taylor fall back and recoup a bit of herself before she went into 'fusion weapon' fuck mode. She was having a hard time coming up with ever more derogatory names and comments. The woman's several orgasms had cum and girl lube dripping down to her ass. She put a finger to it and pushed. |Gentle was no longer in her vocabulary.

"So, my cum bag cunt fuck whore...what's been in here lately? Ever get one of your hampsters to grace your asshole with its presence? Or was Rover's dick the first to do that?" She was twisting and working her own finger like she was trying to draw blood. "Let any six year old cum go where the sun don't shine? Ever get off on two of them double fucking your useless holes? When was the last time? This morning?"

She now had two fingers in Mrs. Taylor's ass. She spat on her fingers, not for lubrication but as an act of contempt. Mrs. Taylor was vaguely aware and knew it was actually a compliment. 

"This ass is so Goddamned tight...the only thing that could get up here is a six year old dick. Or maybe Rover...if he was a Chihuahua. A real dick would never make it...but what guy would want to try?" All the while she was keeping her fist going. She doubted that her strength was going to last much longer.

Mrs. Taylor barely managed to give out her next insult. She was deep into her 'fuck my brains out' mode and had trouble focusing her thoughts.

"Dream on...again...tiny tits..."she gasped in a choked whisper. "Got out...of a speeding...ticket once...let some...fucking Trooper...get...get...his... his...Goddamn...fucking...meat pole..up there...fucking salami...it was..." She groaned in primal heat as the girl turned her wrist to again work her G. "Oh...fuck yeah! Yes! Yes! Fuck...yeah...kill me...tiny tits..." and she let out a serious moan of sexual agony. "So...so...get your...other...fist...going...you...you...fucking fucking...piece of...shit..."

The girl wasn't sure if she could do that. In fact, she didn't care. The woman had displayed far more balls than any man she had ever fucked. It was time to get her off. Fusion time. 

She stretched out her two anal probe fingers and pushed them up to meet her fist. The tissues between them were only thick enough to separate her two hands by a fraction of an inch. She started to pump with both hands in unison, slower but stronger, keeping the pressure between them steady. 

"Girl, you can say your prayers but ain't anyone gonna hear them. I'm gonna make you come so fuckin' hard, you ain't gonna ever want nobody else. Grab whatever you can, girl...you're gonna fuckin' well cream everything in here. You're gonna come like only I can make you...now, here you come, you cocksuckin' bitch! I want cum all over my face, you useless cunt! Now come!!"

Mrs. Taylor was trying not to...only to get the girl even more angry, but it was a lost cause. Her body was tensing and the real vaginal and anal pressures were only slightly less than the sexual pressure in her head. Her mind flew to the scene with the two sailors again. They hadn't come yet and both their cocks were magically growing in thickness and in length. Her vagina and asshole were being stretched and stretched...and her tissues were magically going with it, getting bigger and bigger as well. Her whole body was becoming nothing more than her well filled fuck holes. Two cocks, getting bigger than she was were filling and filling...her vagina was bigger than she was...her ass was now swallowing her...cum was flooding into her brain...into her soul...Mother Mary pray for us sinners...Sex is God...I am Sex...I am God...filling the world with Sex. God is Sex. Sex...Cum...Cum..."

Mrs. Taylor was dimly aware of screaming. Distant screaming...getting closer, louder...orgasmic screaming...life and death...screaming together...filling her head...her soul...her heart...

Her last bit of air was released in that scream. She was choking...under water...no air...then air...and she was screaming...darkness...blinding light...body melting...body frozen...Mother Mary...no more...stop this...darkness...falling...falling...gone..."

Her eyes opened and she was alive. She was in the back room..laying on something...her chest was heaving...her vagina was burning...her ass was burning...God!! That was a real one! Slowly she remembered her benefactor.

The girl. Goth...tattoos...Enter At Your Own Risk...tiny tits...

"I can't get up. Help me." She felt a hand take hers and pull. She was sitting up. The girl was looking at her. Her expression was mild bewilderment.

"What planet are you from?"

Mrs. Taylor staggered to her feet. Her legs were barely able to keep her from toppling over. One hand went to her vulva and rubbed compassionately. Her bladder was molten. "I have to pee."

The girl just pointed with her eyes. 'There'. 

Mrs. Taylor staggered to the door she hadn't noticed. Opening the door, she collapsed on a dirty toilet. She didn't bother closing the door. She just sighed and let her bladder go. 

Her steam of urine stung like fire. She felt her body shudder. "Feels good, doesn't it," said the girl.

Mrs. Taylor had to agree. It did feel good. As her urine washed away the sting, she felt like...'like fucking the Goth girl like she expects to be fucked...and then some...' Her evil mind was already going into overdrive. This girl was going to be...fucked by a pro...and she would never forget it. Mrs. Taylor was never happy about playing second fiddle.

She didn't bother dabbing her urethra. Getting up, she walked back into the room and stood before the girl who was still down on her knees. "You're good...very, very good. I haven't been fucked like that since...forever! God! All I want to do is fuck you till the sun comes up. I want to fuck you till you're fucking dehydrated! God, I've never wanted to fuck a girl like I want to fuck you. Don't say no. it would be...impolite. And very...very...useless..."

"Just a minute," she whispered. "I'll be right back," and she went into the bathroom. Mrs. Taylor was already eying some of the merchandise when the girl returned with a warm damp facecloth and pushed Mrs. Taylor back onto the sex chair. Then she lovingly went over Mrs. Taylor's wet, sex fluid covered vulva and ass. Then she gently blew warm breath over it all and when dry she slipped the panties over her new lover's shoes and up her legs, settling them in place. Offering her hand, she helper Mrs. Taylor up and taking the matching corset, put it around Mrs. Taylor's waist and laced it up from behind. The top of the corset was just perfectly formed to lift and accentuate Mrs. Taylor's bra covered breasts. 

"Now," the girl said, "What next..." and she looked over the leather goods, and chose a cat mask, with pointed ears that would have been silly if it wasn't for the perfection of the work. Perfectly formed patent leather, black and polished to a glowing sheen, it was seriously high quality work. Standing back, she admired the vision of female sexual feline grace and smiled, then with a slight look of seriousness, asked, "How many of those Franklins do you have?" Mrs. Taylor smiled back and murmured in a sultry voice, "More than enough, girl, with a few extra for your care and attention."

The girl smiled and went back to the leather rack, paused as she considered, then took a cloak off the rack and placed it over Mrs. Taylor's shoulders. The collar laced up around her neck and the black shimmering leather went almost to the floor. Mrs. Taylor went to a full length mirror and with her best porn star body language, slowly pirouetted around and did her 'Catwoman" growl. She turned to the girl and said, "Now...dress yourself...set the stage...anyway you want, girl...make me want you...make me want to fuck you for days...make me want to give you what you gave me...over and over again..." 

As she spoke, Mrs. Taylor was running her hands over her breasts, her waist and down to her hips, running them up her inner thighs to her vulva, massing it like she was a tigress in heat. The girl walked over and giving Mrs. Taylor a look of lust, wrapped her arms around her and ground her hips into the object of her fantasies. "Yes...I think I will," she sighed.

The girl looked over the racks and said, "I really like this one," taking a black leather corset. "It kind of likes like me..." and she started removing clothes. She took off her boots, then unhooked her black skirt, letting it fall. Mrs. Taylor wasn't surprised to see black panties. The girl stood in front of her new lover and said, "Please..." as she slipped off her black tee shirt. 

Mrs. Taylor slipped down the panties and saw a thick black bush, with little sign of a recent trim. Mrs. Taylor saw an average body with a few extra pounds, those tiny breasts and another incredible tattoo. It was a rose bush, starting just above her navel and going up, with black roses seeming to cup her breasts. Exaggerated thorns appeared to piece her skin, drawing drops of crimson blood. 

Seeing Mrs. Taylor's interest in the skin art, she turned around to revile another work of art. Starting from her lower thighs was an image of a woman on her knees, leaning down with her ass splayed open by her hands. The images bush seemed to blend in with the real one and Mrs. Taylor could just see the image of the imaginary ass bud, perfectly superimposed on the real one. Across her lower back were the words Two Things Only. On the top of her left ass cheek was the word In. Across the top of her right ass cheek was the word Out. It was not a problem to see what this girl liked to do, much less what she saw as her role in life. 




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 04



As Mrs. Taylor was approaching the town she started to look around for a suitable location to seduce Greg. The B+B just wouldn't do. 'Too much noise and the old lady would probably call the cops,' she thought. 

She drove around the lake until she spotted an upscale resort. There was a main building and a series of separate beach front bungalows. 'Looks good,' she said silently and pulled in, leaving her car a ways from the reception area. 'The stockings might not be a good idea right now,' she muttered to herself and she undid the clasps and pulled them off. She slipped off her blouse and removed the leather corset and got back into the blouse. 'Now I'm just another tourist on the road,' she thought and approached the check-in desk. A well dressed middle aged woman smiled at her. "I don't have a reservation, but do you have a bungalow available for the night?"

The woman glanced at her computer screen, paused, then said, "Yes, we do. Just for the one night?" Mrs. Taylor nodded and said, " Please. I've been on the road all day and I'd like a quiet rest." Taking out her wallet, she asked, "Would cash be okay? I'd like to pay now as I may want an early start in the morning." 

The woman smiled again and said, "That's fine. Please fill in the registration card." Mrs. Taylor did so with totally bogus information, including a false out of state license plate number. She handed over two Franklins for the room, collected her change and the key and said, "Thank you." 

The woman gave her another professional smile and said, "Enjoy your stay."

Mrs. Taylor drove around to her assigned bungalow and parked. Taking the box, she opened the door and walked in. It was cozy and reasonably well appointed. The master bedroom featured a king sized, four posted bed. 'Perfect,' she thought. Leaving the box, she went out and drove back to the B+B. 

On a hunch, she walked back to the beach. Becky was still at the concession. The girl's eyes lit up as she saw Mrs. Taylor approaching. "Hello again, Becky," she said, "how's your day been?" 

"All right," she said, then added, "Greg was back. I thought I was going to die. He just won't leave me alone." 

Mrs. Taylor smiled understandingly. "Have you tried talking to his parents? Perhaps they can get him to stop." 

She sighed and shook her head no. "Old man Peters wouldn't care. And his alcoholic wife would probably tell me to bend over and..." Her voice trailed away. Mrs. Taylor smiled inwardly. Now she had his last name. 

"So Greg is pretty much free to do as he pleases," she said. 

Becky nodded yes and added, "He's the worst thing in this town. From what I've heard...Janice was...hardly the first." 

Mrs. Taylor gave the girl a motherly look and said, "Well, just be sure to stay away. Never be alone with the jerk and you should be okay." 

"I won't," Becky said. "And...thank you. I really appreciate your...support."

"Think nothing of it, dear. As I said, us women have to stick together." She looked over the beach. "Well, it's about time for me to go. Good luck Becky." The girl smiled back and then Mrs. Taylor was walking away. 

'Greg Peters' she said to herself. 'Gotcha!'

Back at her room, she thumbed through the local phone book. There were two listings for Peters. She wrote them down to be used later from a pay phone. She was very good about not leaving any trace of herself. She packed her things and said a silent good bye to the B+B. 

She drove to the town's small downtown area and stopped at a diner for her supper. She kept her sunglasses on and ate her meal at the back. Leaving cash on the table she left and drove to a liquor store where she purchased a bottle of scotch. Then she found a pay phone. The first number was answered by someone who said that there wasn't a Greg there. The second one rang for a bit, then was answered by a woman with slurred speech. 'Bingo,' Mrs. Taylor thought. "Hello, may I please speak to Greg?" 

"Jus a minute," was the reply and Mrs. Taylor heard the woman shout, "Greg! It's some girl...you got a new girlfriend I don't know?" 

Then the boy was on the phone. "Hello. Who is this?"

Mrs. Taylor paused before answering. "Hello Greg. We met on the beach today. I'm the woman who interrupted your conquest of Becky. You didn't look too happy." 

There was an awkward pause, then, "What do you want? I don't even know you." 

'Manners are not his strong suit,' Mrs. Taylor thought. "No, Greg, I'm just passing through town. I was...kind of sorry that I interrupted you with Becky. I...want to apologize. It was rude of me. I'm sorry." 

The boy was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "No problem...I mean...it's okay." 

"Well Greg, I just wanted to set this straight...I mean...I guess I blew your chances for a date tonight..." She let her voice trail off. 

There was another awkward silence before Greg said, "Don't worry. Becky isn't...my kind of girl...if you know what I mean..." 

Now Mrs. Taylor paused before offering the bait. "I think I do, Greg. You look like a guy who gets around...I like a guy who gets around...if you know what I mean..."

Now there was a longer pause before Greg said, "So...you think we might...get together...have a few laughs...you and me?" 

'Me perhaps,' Mrs. Taylor thought. 'I don't know about you.'

Mrs. Taylor loved playing Mrs. Robinson to the young guys. "I think so, Greg...I couldn't help admiring that...body of yours...buff...solid...I like a guy who's...solid..." 

Greg must have thought it was his lucky day. "Yeah...solid is my...middle name...I can be ...as solid as you want...all night long..." 

'Idiot,' thought Mrs. Taylor. Then she said in her silken smooth seductive croon, "I'm tingling...tingling all over...you do that to me..." 

Greg was getting into his stride. "Lady, I think I can do more than that...and you're gonna love it. Say...didn't I see...a wedding ring on you?" 

Mrs. Taylor oozed her answer. "You did, lover boy...so if you can be discrete...I can show you how much...I appreciate it..." 

"Lady, I'll never tell...I never do...so..." Mrs. Taylor didn't want him to know where the room was until later. 

"Greg, I'll get us a room...I'll...I'll call you in a few hours...when I'm ready...if you know what I mean?" 

Greg gave her his best macho tone. "You just do that...get ready...get ready for the guy of your dreams..." 

"Greg, I know you'll be just that...take a long cold shower, lover boy...you'll need it. I want you...solid..." 

She laughed to herself as Greg said, "Like a rock, lady. Like a rock." 

"You are so bad," she said, "and I love it. Bye for now, lover," and she hung up.

She drove to her bungalow, again parking away from it. Inside, she started humming that same aria from Don Giovanni. In the bathroom she stripped off and admired herself in the mirror. 'Got to look good for my lover boy,' she thought as she ran her hands over her body. Not quite perfectly smooth, she applied depilatory lotion to her legs, underarms and pubic area. After letting it work long enough, she got in the shower and rubbed it all off with her hand pad. A quick rinse to get it all off and she put in the drain plug and ran a hot bath, adding her favourite scented bath oil. 

While the water was running she poured herself some scotch and sipped it straight. The warmth of the liquor seemed to flow from her stomach through to her skin. She inhaled deeply and gave a long sigh. 'Greg, Greg, Greg...' she thought. 'You insanely stupid jerk...if you only knew...' and then she entered the bath, stretched out and relaxed in the warmth and the fragrance.

She lay there for almost an hour, adding more hot water to keep it warm enough to make her skin glow. Running her fingers over her body she felt only silky smooth, oiled skin. She stood up and shampooed her hair, then rinsed off and stepped out. Patting herself dry, she was humming again. With her skin barely damp, she applied body cream to all of her skin, massaging it in while her pores were open. Staying nude, she sat at the dining table and did her finger and toenails. 'Hooker Red' seemed appropriate. Then she put on a trace of makeup starting with a thin foundation. Her face was now smooth and toned. A touch of eye shadow and some 'Hooker Red' lipstick followed. Finally, a bit of jet black mascara and she was done. 'What to wear...what to wear,' she thought.

On went the black fishnet stockings followed by the garter. She did up the clasps and the stockings were tight over her legs. The panties she took from the shop smelled of sex...her own womanly musk was easily noticed. 'Good,' she thought. She added a tiny touch of her Chanel No.5 and they were perfect. 'There's not a man who's breathing that could resist these now,' she thought. 

The matching bra was also touched with the Chanel and then put on. The corset followed and finally the high heeled shoes. She wrapped and tied the straps and stood up. Looking in the mirror, she was pleased. The high heels gave her ass that perfect curve and she smiled. She brushed out her hair and thought, 'Greg...come and get me...' It was time to call. 

He answered with a tone of anxiety. "Hello." 

Mrs. Taylor just said, "The Lakeside Resort. Bungalow number seven...lucky number seven," and she hung up. 

Taking a glass bowel from the kitchen, Mrs. Taylor put in a handful of condoms and some lube. She put the bowl on the small table beside the front room couch. She turned on the entertainment system and scanned the music stations, choosing "Easy Listening". Soft, melodic music now filled the room. She turned the volume down until it was simply mood music. She waved a Chanel moistened tissue around the place until it smelled like a French Bordello. As a last touch, she wrapped herself in the purloined dressing gown, then poured a generous measure of scotch into a glass for Greg. She was ready. 

'Not quite' she thought, putting a finger down her panties and touching her unlubricated vaginal entrance. Smiling, she took a plastic syringe from her makeup kit, filled with glycerine and gently eased it in her vagina up to her cervix and pressed in a squirt of the glistening fluid. 'Instant readiness' she thought. 'Just in case the kid doesn't know how to get me wet.' 

She withdrew the syringe and gave herself a final look in the mirror. 'You are so evil,' she said to her image and she went back to the front room. Only minutes later, there was a knock on the door. She called out, "Who is it?" and in reply she heard, "It's Rock Solid." 

She laughed to herself and muttered, "Idiot." Then she opened the door.

Greg was just inside the door when Mrs. Taylor swung it shut and with a flourish, opened her dressing gown. "Like it?" she said in a seductive moan. 

Greg eyes went wide and he stammered, "Yes...I do...you look like..."

"A nympho cheating wife...?" Mrs. Taylor finished for him with her head down and her eyelids up. She cat strutted to Greg, exaggerating the roll of her hips and stood right up to him, putting her right hand to his crotch. "A nympho cheating wife who's husband..." She gently squeezed. "Isn't quite as...solid as he...used to be?" Still holding the boy's growing bulge, she waved her left hand in front of his face. "This itty-bitty ring doesn't bother you...does it?" 

"Ahh...no...I mean...if you're good...I'm good too..." His voice cut off as Mrs. Taylor started to massage his bulge.

"No, no, no..."she crooned, "I'm not good...not good at all...in fact...I really, really...want to be...bad..." and she planted her 'Hooker Red' lips to his, pulled him close and wrapped one fishnet stocking clad leg around his legs and rubbed her body up and down his. Then she let go, picked up the drink she had poured for him, handed it to him and murmured, "I think you need to loosen up a little. You seem...tense..."

She guided him to the easy chair opposite the couch and he sat down. "I need a top up," she said, as she picked up her own glass. "Do you mind?" 

Greg shook his head 'no'. "Not at all...go ahead...say...what is your name...?" 

Mrs. Taylor gave him a wink. Then she poured herself some more scotch, did her cat strut to the couch and sat down, leaving one leg straight out and putting a high heel up on the couch with that leg splayed, displaying her silk covered camel toe. "You can call me...Sugarplum...sweet, sweet Sugarplum..." and she gave him a sly look. "Cheers," and she raised her glass. "Here's to...a married woman and her...rock solid new lover." 

She took a generous swallow, did her best 'I'm melting' routine and then looked at Greg like he was her next meal. Putting down her glass, she stood up, raising her hands high and stretched...then slipped off the dressing gown and slowly walked over to Greg like she was being paid ten grand for the night.

The bulge in the boy's pants was testament to her performance. Keeping her legs straight, she bent over and started to undo his belt. His zipper was next and then the button. "Work with me, lover," she suggested and he lifted himself up, allowing Mrs. Taylor to pull down his pants. Still keeping her legs straight, she took his under shorts and when he again lifted his body, she slid then down, exposing his oak rod erection. 

"Oh my,' crooned Mrs. Taylor, "I love a guy who...doesn't disappoint me..." She got down on her knees and fondled Greg's fairly decent cock. 'Not bad,' she thought. 'Could be a little thicker...decent head ...but not bad,' and she lowered her mouth and took it in. 

'One thing about these young guys,' Mrs Taylor thought as she started to give him what certainly was the most expert blow job of his young life, 'they have this amazing ability to reload...' and she started on his first orgasm of the night. 

Greg was silent at first but soon was moaning. "Fuck yeah...oh God...fuck yeah...suck me...yeah...suck me..." Mrs. Taylor didn't expect him to last long and he didn't. In less than thirty seconds the boy was shaking and his penis was jerking up into Mrs. Taylor's mouth. When she was certain he was close, she casually stood up. 

Greg was all attention as she took his bulging erection in her hand and walked him over to the couch. Taking a condom from the bowl she opened the package, took it out and said, "Nothing personal, lover...it's just a habit of mine." She got down on her haunches and slowly, sensuously unrolled the condom onto his turgid cock. 

When she was done, she smiled up at him, stood up, turned to face the couch and bending over with her legs straight, eased her panties down inches at a time, exposing her sumptuous ass. When the panties were down around her ankles she stepped out of them, and still bent over, parted her legs. Then she reached up to spread her labia and crooned, "Anything look inviting, lover boy?" 

He reached for her artificially wet magic spot and said, "Oh my God...you are so wet. Fucking, fucking awesome..." Mrs. Taylor smiled as he put his cock to her offered treasure and felt him slide in.

The boy was in deep and Mrs. Taylor felt his hips trembling against her ass. She braced her hands against the couch, lowered her head and said, "Take me, lover... take me now...give me your thick...rock hard...solid cock...I want it...I want it bad..." and the near delirious teen started to buck into her proffered vagina. 

'What a fucking loser,' Mrs. Taylor thought as he came prematurely and loudly. He was humping her like a mad bull, grasping her hips and calling out, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," and he went ridged, then slammed his hips into her ass, once, then twice, then finally a third time, as he collapsed over back and went limp. Then with a final few thrusts of his cock he pulled himself tight to her ass and gave a long sigh. 

After a long pause, Mrs. Taylor moaned, "Fuck yeah...awesome, lover boy...just what a lonely wife wants...a real solid cock..." She stayed bent over as the panting boy withdrew his cum covered cock and stepped back, his chest heaving. 

Mrs. Taylor straightened up and turned around. Helping him step out of his pants and shorts, she then pushed him down onto the couch. She slipped off his runners and socks, then pulled off his shirt, leaving him nude. She gently removed the condom and put it on a tissue from a box she had strategically placed on the side table. With a few more, she slowly wiped off his slightly deflated cock. Getting onto the couch, facing him, she straddled his legs and pushed her vulva into his face. "My turn, lover boy," she crooned and not expecting much, she waited to see what he could do. 

'Typical teenager,' she thought as he licked at her labia like it was ice dream. "Up a bit, lover boy, give my clit some sugar..." 'At least he knows where it is,' she said silently as he lapped at it. "I want you to suck on it...very, very gently...ahhhh...yes....like that, lover boy...yesss...." 

Greg was trying. He put his hands around her ass and pulled her in closer. Mrs. Taylor started to move up and down, slowly fucking his face. Knowing that a real or well performed display of her building sexual excitement would get Greg ready in only minutes, she continued her vocal and physical encouragement. 

With that old man's wisdom, 'That back and forth stuff...I think that comes natural...but that round and round stuff...I think that's learned...' in her mind, she moved her vulva in slow circles over his face. Between the glycerine and her own wetness, Greg was getting what she was sure was his first facial. Then, pretending to be close to climax, she stopped her gyrations with her vaginal entrance over his mouth and felt his tongue pushing in. She let him do that for a moment, then murmured in a voice of sexual desperation, "I want something in me...something bigger...something...solid..." Greg moved his head back and lowering her head, Mrs. Taylor saw him put a hand to his penis as if he wasn't quite sure he had the proper answer to her request. The smile on his face gave her the answer. 

Mrs. Taylor got up and stepped back, straightening up. Greg, complete with his full erection stood up as well. Taking the boy in her arms, Mrs. Taylor whispered in his ear, "Do me a favour, lover boy...just reach back and undo me...please..." 

Greg fumbled with her bra while Mrs. Taylor waited patiently. 'One more thing for you to learn, Kid,' she thought. It finally came undone and she slowly, seductively took it off, keeping the cups in place before letting it fall to the floor. Then she stepped back, clad only in the garter and stockings, her legs and ass shaped by the high heels and took a "Marilyn Monroe" type pose, put out an arm and giving him a slow "come here" finger motion, crooned, " Come with me, lover boy," and turned around. 

Walking with an exaggerated model's strut, she slowly made her way to the master bedroom. At the door she paused and turning around with a thoughtful look on her face, asked Greg, in an innocent voice, her head cocked slightly down and to the side, her eyebrows raised, "Aren't you forgetting something, lover boy?" At his puzzled look she said, she tapped a finger to his completely erect penis. It took a few seconds but he got it. 

"Be right back," he said as he turned to get the bowl of condoms.

Mrs. Taylor turned on a night table lamp and pointed it to the wall, giving the room a pale glow of light. Then she lay on the bed, one leg wrapped over the other. One hand coyly covered her vulva and the other cupped a breast. Greg was almost running as he came through the bedroom door. "Lights out back there? Door locked? Wouldn't want any unwelcome visitors, now would we? " asked Mrs. Taylor. 

'Keep the kid on edge for a while. Let him take control when I want him to,' she thought to herself as he turned and did what he was told. In a second she saw the lights go out and then she heard the turn of the door lock. 'Wait for it' she thought and she heard it. Greg had run into some part of the furniture with a crash. She smiled as she heard him mutter, "Fuck!" and then he was entering the room. 




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 04



He put the bowl on the night table and fumbled with a condom, trying to unroll it the wrong way. Figuring it out, he turned it around and finished the job. Mrs. Taylor smiled appreciatively at his cock. It was average in every way but she still murmured, "So much bigger than my inattentive husband's...so solid...so masculine...just what a poor girl like me needs...a real man's cock in me..." and she motioned to him to get on the bed. She let her legs part and casually put a finger to her vagina. "Do you think can...get me just a little bit more...ready for you, lover boy? Turn me on like hubby can't...at least...anymore...you can start...let's see...how about here..." gently cupping her breasts. 

Greg gave her a frustrated look, then quickly decided better. "The girl I can't turn on isn't breathing," he said in a voice of adolescent bravado. Moving up and putting his mouth to one nipple while a hand went to the other, he started to suck like a starving baby and using way too much pressure, roll the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Mrs. Taylor was no stranger to nipple pain and the sudden mild discomfort was not a problem. "Ohhh...yes!" she hissed as she thought once again that the kid was a moron. He bit down on the one nipple, none too gently and that gave even Mrs. Taylor reason to tense. "What you do to me," she crooned in false pleasure as she thought; 'You make me think you were born in a barn.' 

Greg switched his mouth to her other nipple and tickled it with his tongue, before biting down. Then he moved down, stopping at her clitoris. "A little more gently with that, lover boy," she murmured, not wanting to have to separate Greg from his Peters' family jewels for insulting her feminine dignity.

He didn't quite insult it but he paid it only passing attention, clearly wanting to get on with fucking. He was getting up and into missionary position, moving in close, holding his impatient cock and about to push it in to her vagina like he was pushing open a door. 

Mrs. Taylor casually rolled onto her side reaching for the bowl. Taking a packet of lubricant, she tore it open, put a generous portion on her finger tips and made a show of slowly, teasingly touching it to her vaginal entrance. Then she spread her labia with her other hand and slowly worked her lubed fingers deep into herself. Looking up at Greg somewhat apologetically, she said, "I don't have any problem getting wet, lover boy. You've done that for me...very...very well...it's just that you young, solid hard bodies...

after one climax...you can go forever...it's awesome...I love it, but...a girl can stay wet for only...so long by herself...and I wouldn't want to have to stop in half an hour and...you know...do this...it might break your concentration or something..."

Giving him her best "fuck me till I'm passed out" eyes closed, slow body wriggle, she laid back, smiled up at Greg, put a pillow under her butt and settled into a comfortable, relaxed position, her legs spread and her knees bent. "You know what to do, lover boy," she murmured and softly closed her eyes. 'Hope that doesn't give you performance anxiety,' she thought with a non-expressed evil grin.

Any newly hatched self-doubts Greg may have been experiencing were soon in evidence. He was all control now, slowly entering Mrs. Taylor's vagina and moving in and out like it was causing him pain. She let him do that for a minute, all the while murmuring her approval of a penis being in her, if not the display of manliness. 

"God I love it when guys like you start slow..." she oozed, eyes still closed, leaving no doubts as to her future expectations. "It gets me so turned on...being teased like this...knowing what you can really do...but not yet, lover boy...my rock solid lover boy...play with me, tease me with your hard, thick...woman maker...make a real woman out of me...make me come until I can't take it any more..."

With that she slowly arched her back like she was a cat stretching. Then she reversed the tilt and taking her legs in hand, pulled them up high, wide apart and murmured, "The Big O, please...it's been so long...so!... long!...two would be better...yes...two...oh God, I'm going to love this..."

Mrs. Taylor kept her eyes closed, the expression on her face one of impending sexual satiation and her breathing slow and deep. Greg may have heard of a woman's G spot but showed no particular knowledge of its whereabouts. He leaned over her and started moving deeper, his ball sack gently tapping her ass. The head of his penis was pushing into her cervix which Mrs. Taylor was happy to feel. "God, you are...so...deep," she gushed. "I love a real, solid cock that...goes...deep..." 

Opening her eyes, she gave Greg a look of intense womanly pleasure, her eyes pleading for more. He was stroking in her faster now and she gave a series of porn star grunts as his cock head thrust into her cervix. Then she put on a clenched teeth grimace of sexual rising passion while arching her head back. Forcefully massaging her breasts, she glared into Greg's eyes, demanding his best efforts to bring her to vaginal orgasm. 'Not like this,' she thought to herself. 

"Lean back a bit, lover." Greg looked puzzled. 

Mrs. Taylor let go of her legs and partially sat up. Putting a hand on his chest, she gently pushed until he did what he was told, but the puzzled look remained. "Stop a minute, lover," and he did, still puzzled. 

She took his cock by the base and gently eased it out, then took her hand away. "See the direction it's pointing?" she asked. Greg looked at his achingly erect penis, pointing almost straight up.

"There's a reason for that, lover boy...when a woman wants a Big O, an earth moving, brain melting...vaginal...orgasm...she wants this," touching the tip of his penis, "moving against...stroking into, again and again...the top of her va-ja-ja...not the back...the top...that's why this..." again touching his tip, "is pointing...up!"

Giving Greg an eye brow raised smile like she was letting him in on the world's best kept secret, she settled back, adjusted the pillow and said, "Now you know what a woman wants...when she does...this..."again taking her legs up high and widely spread. 

Looking very uncertain of himself, Greg said, "Okay, lady...if you say so..." and moved in closer to try and take his fucking up a notch. 

"Call me Sugarplum, lover boy...and I do say so...give me what I want and...maybe later I'll let you call me...Sugarbum...if you know what I mean...think you're man enough...to get your reward, lover boy...?" 

'This is going well,' thought Mrs Taylor as Greg was doing his best to move against her G spot, even if he was clueless as to what he was doing or why. However, the sight of Mrs. Taylor, clad only in black silk stockings, a garter belt and high heels, her legs up and spread, was giving Greg a new sense of urgency. Mrs. Taylor could see his face getting flushed and beads of sweat starting to appear on his forehead and chest. 

From the expression on his face, she thought he was torn between his desire to work on giving her what she wanted, and his desire to just go caveman on her and fuck like a sailor on shore leave after six months at sea. Surprisingly, Mrs. Taylor was getting a decent reaction from his newly learned part of the art of fucking. "Are you sure you didn't know about this little...advanced technique?" she murmured and threw in a few moans of sexual joy. 

Greg just gave a few vigorous thrusts and Mrs. Taylor gasped, inhaled deeply and called out, "Yes!...Yes!...Oh my God...Yes!" Nowhere near a big one, she pretended she was, knowing that her performance would have Greg climbing himself, well before his suggested half hour time. "That's it!...just like that!...Oh God...don't stop...please don't stop..."

'Well, Greg, let's see just how good you are,' she thought, not expecting any surprises. Going into her porn star in heat routine, Mrs. Taylor threw out all the stops, gyrating her pelvis, massaging her clit, pushing up her breasts like she was offering them to the gods and giving Greg a moaning, groaning display of "woman about to come big time". "Oh lover, oh lover...so close...so close...fuck me...fuck me harder...harder...don't stop...please don't stop...God! I want to come! Please, lover boy...make me come..."

As much as Mrs. Taylor thought that a decent vaginal orgasm was always a thing to be desired, her intentions were to have Greg come first and leave her...disappointed. Not too disappointed, but disappointed enough to make him want to prove himself the next time and Mrs. Taylor was going to give him a next time. Greg was shaking his head, mumbling to himself and generally trying to forget where he was and what he was doing. 

'Reciting the alphabet backwards...naming every student in his grade seven class...anything to keep from coming before I do,' Mrs. Taylor imagined. 'Not a chance,' she thought and giving Greg a few more impassioned entreaties to finish her off, she contracted her thoroughly trained pelvic muscles, wrapping her vagina tightly around his rapidly thrusting cock and waited...for only a few seconds before he was tensing like a weightlifter before an Olympian effort, his achingly close cock going like a jackhammer and then he was coming. With a last cry of, "Please don't stop," Mrs. Taylor added to his new found sexual anxieties.

Greg was sucking in air, his chest heaving as he gave a last few jerks, his orgasm finished. He looked down at Mrs. Taylor expectantly, then managed to gasp, "Did you...did I..." 

She gave him a look of tortured frustration and said, "I was...so...close...baby, baby...I ha..." not finishing the 'I hate it when that happens.' 

Greg collapsed on the bed beside her and was silent except for his heavy breathing. 'Live with it , kid,' she thought, 'not all men are anything like they think they are...especially you.'

Mrs. Taylor turned to him, her face a portrait of understanding. "It's okay, baby...lover boy...you were awesome...my husband hasn't fucked me like that in ages. You'll do better next time...you just relax and...get your strength back...I'll go and get us each another drink." 

She gave him a quick kiss and a smile, got off the bed and went out of the room. She poured him a large one and herself a smaller one, adding water. 'In the dim light, he'll never notice,' she thought, and went back to Greg. Handing him the straight liquor she touched his glass to hers and said, "This'll put the lead back in your pencil," and took a sip. 

Then she went to the closet and put on the white dressing gown, covering her almost naked body, wrapping and tying the sash. Then she arranged two pillows as a backrest and sat on the bed with her legs out and crossed. Greg sat up, still holding his drink and sat cross legged, facing her. 

"Ahh, lover boy...I want to see you...not that," she murmured pointing to the used condom, still on his softened penis.

"Yeah," he mumbled and was up to the bathroom. Mrs. Taylor heard water running and figured that he was washing his cum coated penis. A few moments later she heard him peeing. Finally she heard the water again. 'At least he washes his hands,' she thought. 

Greg came back looking more relaxed and got back on the bed, resuming his cross legged position. "You know," he started, "that usually doesn't happen. I mean...you not..." 

Mrs. Taylor remained silent, forcing him to continue in his lie. "Not...having a...climax, I mean. Can't remember the last time this happened...maybe it's because...well...you're just so...god damned sexy...I mean...Jeez you look so good...and the way I had you turned on...I just couldn't help it...coming like that, I mean...before you...you know..." 

'Keep going kid, have some more rope. Set yourself up for another big failure,' Mrs. Taylor thought as she listened to his line. She gave him a sly smile and said, "It's okay, lover boy. I understand. You just relax and we'll talk a while. When you're ready to do it again, let me know...as if I won't be able to see for myself..." gazing at his flaccid penis. 

"Yeah, Sugarplum," and he gave a slight laugh, "you'll see for your self." 

Mrs. Taylor made a show of looking him over, pretending to admire his body. "You are such a...hunk my lover boy...a living, breathing sex machine. The girls in this town must be lining up...and I don't blame them one bit." She ran a high heeled foot over his thigh and gave him another sly smile. "So, how many of your regulars am I disappointing tonight?"

"A few," he answered, looking like they bored him. "But it'll do them good. Make them appreciate what they've got." 

"Oh, lover boy...do I ever appreciate what they've got. In fact...I'm jealous. Oh...to be young again." She gave a languid stretch. "Of course, when I was a girl...I didn't have a guy like you around...pity...what I could have felt...experienced...taken places I didn't know existed..." 

Greg gave her a sad smile and said, "Well, so many girls...so little time..." 

Mrs. Taylor nodded knowingly and crooned, "But I've got you tonight..." while thinking, 'What a fucking jerk...a total loser.'

"So tell me," Mrs. Taylor said, "with all those girls to choose from...what do you look for? What turns you on?"

Greg gave another chuckle and said, "Well, for starters...they have to understand...if they want to be with me...I don't take no for an answer...if you get my drift. I mean, life is too short to put up with...girls who want to be...friends..." 

He said the word "friends" like it was an idea to be spat upon. Mrs. Taylor made an unbelieving face and said, "You mean, there are girls who won't...bend over and drop the old...last line of resistance?" 

"Tell me about it," Greg smirked. "I mean, who do they think they are...the last pussy on earth? Now you...I like you...none of this "will you still respect me" crap. I want to fuck 'em...not marry 'em...and you...you got your priorities straight...if the husband won't fuck you like a real man, find someone who will...I like that in a girl...a woman...you know what you want...and I'm here to give it to you..."

With that, he drained his glass in a show of masculine control. Giving his neck and shoulders a good limbering, he said, "Got any more of this stuff? It's going down pretty good. And have another yourself. You're gonna need it." 

Mrs. Taylor fought the urge to burst out laughing. Getting up, she murmured, "Coming right up, lover boy...coming right up." 

She took his empty glass, her own and went out of the bedroom. Repeating her deception, she returned and held out Greg's glass. He took it and swallowed half in one go. Mrs. Taylor slowly undid the sash of her evening gown, took a slow sexually charged swallow of her diluted scotch and let the gown fall to the floor. Once again she cat strutted over to the bed, leaned over with legs straight and put her glass on the night table. "This time baby, don't stop...even if I'm begging for mercy." 

Then she lay down on the bed, one leg straight out and the other bent and splayed. "Get me ready for you, big boy," she oozed, patting her vulva. "Get me ready to be fucked like there's no tomorrow. The more I beg for mercy...don't give me any. The more I beg you to stop...the more I want you to fuck me silly. No matter what...fuck me like you own me...if I pass out...just keep going..." 'There, you little prick,' she thought, 'you have your marching orders.'

Greg tried. He really did. He started by giving Mrs. Taylor his amateur version of oral. She moaned, groaned and generally made him think he was getting somewhere. "Oh, lover boy...fuck you're good..." 

Then she murmured, "Wrap it up, big boy...and cover it with oh, so luscious lube and...have your way with me...I'm yours, big guy, anything your precious little heart desires...don't ask...just do it...fuck my pussy, fuck my ass...just fuck me like I know you can..."

And with that, Mrs. Taylor waited for Greg to get a condom on, fumble with a packet of lube and give her a lecherous grin. Then she turned around, put her breasts to the bed and on her knees, arched her back putting her ass in the air. "Anywhere you want to start , lover...anywhere you want..." 

Mrs. Taylor wasn't surprised to feel his cock poised at her vaginal entrance. 'Probably hasn't ass fucked in his life,' she thought. 'Well, that will change,' and she settled in for his vaginal opening act. 

Mrs. Taylor felt her prey's penis ease in. It went deeper and she felt him rubbing his hips up and down her butt. She pushed back into him, gushing, "My god, you're so deep...so thick...I love a good cock...especially one that's fucking me...fuck me, lover boy...make this unhappy wife happy...do what my husband can't..." 

With that she arched her back a la porn star and gave Greg's penis a few pelvic squeezes. "Ouuu...what you do to me..." she oozed as she reached a hand between her legs and rubbed her clitoris. "You don't mind, do you, lover boy?" 

Greg was quick to stutter, "No...that's okay...I don't mind...if you..." 

"Just warming myself up, lover boy," as she gave a few moans in synch with her hands. "You know how to make that...unnecessary..." Mrs. Taylor bit her lip to keep from laughing as Greg picked up his fucking. 

'Make the poor boy think he's doing great,' she thought and took her hand from herself. "Oh fuck, yeah," she said with sexual insincerity. "I just love you young guys with your...endless...energy..."

Keeping up a steady stream of sexual entreaties, Mrs. Taylor went through a good part of her repertoire. Having watched numerous women being fucked doggy style, by her husband and others, she knew what to show Greg in the way of "woman having her pussy pounded" antics. She turned her head to look at him, her face a study in feminine lust and sexual ecstasy. 

With her teeth clenched, she hissed, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," then gasped out a grunt of the woman being vaginally impaled. Taking a deep breath she held it, then moaned it all out, thinking, 'Surely he can't be falling for this. Yes he is...' as Greg gave her a particularly hard series of deep thrusts, his hips slapping against her cheeks. 

"Oh yeah!" he called out in a voice of power. "Fucking you now, baby...fucking you now...like this, Sugarplum? Like my big cock fucking your cunt?...like your cunt being fucked by a real man?"" 

Mrs. Taylor gave Greg a few hard gasps for air, grimaced and hissed," Oh fuck...oh fuck...not so hard...you're killing me..." as she was thinking, 'For the word "cunt", you'll pay...shit for brains.'

Greg was enjoying his ride. He slapped the cheeks in front of him, saying, "I own you...Sugarbitch!...and I'm gonna fuck you 'til you're insane...your ass is mine, bitch!...ain't no one gonna save you now..." 

Mrs. Taylor gave him what he wanted. "Greg...please...slow down...not so hard...you're too big...please..." 

As she expected, Greg just held her by her hips and slowed down his rhythm, adding as much thrust as he could. Mrs. Taylor was being pulled backwards as his penis slammed into her very tolerant vagina, his hips then driving her forward. Again and again he did his best to make her scream and when she thought it appropriate, Mrs. Taylor gave him one, then another, followed by a third. 

"Just remember, you cheating bitch...you asked for it," he hissed, "but you asked...the wrong...guy..." each grunt accompanied by a particularly vicious thrust. 'Moron,' was all Mrs. Taylor could think of to describe him.

'Showtime,' she thought. 'Time to make him deliriously strong. All the better to make him weak.'

"Stop...stop...for the love of god...stop!" she gasped. "I can't take any more! I'm sorry...sorry I said what I said...please, please...stop!" 

'Fucking, fucking moron,' she thought as Greg just roughly pushed her down flat to the bed. She moved to close her legs and as if she had pushed a button, Greg bellowed, "Spread!" She did and he followed with, "Ass in the air, bitch! Now!!"




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 04



Mrs. Taylor arched her back, giving the clueless kid the exposure he demanded. He adjusted his stance, muttering," Now you're gonna get fucked...you wanted it...here it comes...scream all you want...ain't gonna do you no good...no sirree...your cunt belongs to me...you fucking slut!!...wanna fuck around on your husband, do you? Well here it comes!" 

With that, he started to do what Mrs. Taylor wanted him to do; try to pummel her vagina in an attempt to show her that he was now in control. She felt him again adjust his knees, getting into what he thought would be the position to send her into paroxysms of sexual pain and terror. She heard him take a deep breath and start. His knees were up beside her hips. His hands were holding her by her waist. With her back arched, his penis was directly at her vagina and he was going at her like a man possessed. 

For a minute he said nothing and she did the same. In that position, his cock head wasn't bothering her cervix at all. She just felt the pleasure of her vagina being treated to what amounted to a living vibrator of sorts. Knowing he would fail long before the lubricant did, she wasn't the slightest bit worried about her vagina. She even felt a reasonable degree of sexual pleasure which she knew was going to keep her own fluids aiding in her lubrication. The pleasure was added to by the boy's breathing which was getting heavier. 

Several times he halted his futile attempts at ruining her to take a deep gasp, only to resume. Mrs. Taylor kept quiet, her body stiff but not flinching until she felt he might become suspicious of her lack of protest. 'Poor boy,' she thought. 'Can't have him thinking this is all for nothing...'

"Greg! Greg!" she finally gasped through clenched teeth, straightening her back and trying to move forward and away, "Stop! Enough! Please! No more!' and she gave out a pitiful moan of fear.

"The more I beg you to stop...the more I want you to fuck me silly," he said, trying to imitate her feminine, sultry voice. "You wanted it. You asked for it. And you're going to get it...until I say when...not you...you...cheating...whore...' With each of those words he pushed into her.

"Greg! I was only kidding! You can't do this to me! Now get off of me!" She made a moderate effort to turn over. He pushed her back hard. She tried again with more effort and again he forced her back. 

"Greg Peters! You stop this right now!" She shouted it out and pounded her fists against the bed. Turning her head, she glared at him and hissed, "This isn't sex any more! It's rape!" 

Greg didn't wait a second. In a low but menacing voice he said, "You said yes. You invited me here and you said yes." Then he leaned over and taking her hair in his hand, he whispered into her ear. "We don't take to cockteasers around here. We don't like them at all. Not one little bit. Now you're going to do what I say..." He tightened his grip on her hair, twisting her neck and forcing it back."...or I'm going to make you wish you'd never been born."

His voice was both soft and as sharp as a knife. "Now...you get that ugly fat ass of yours back where it belongs...ahhh...that's a good little cock sucker..." as Mrs. Taylor did as she was bidden, arching her back and biting her lip to keep from bursting out laughing. As her body shook with her efforts to stifle the laughing, she gave a few mewling cries, who's origins were mirth, not the fear that Greg was trying to create. 

'Fucking, fucking moron,' she thought again as Greg murmured in that voice, "Hold still, Sugar Ass...and I might just go easy," as he proceeded to lie.

"Not bad for a moron,' she thought as Greg did his best to play the sexual predator, his hips pounding against her raised and splayed ass. 

"You're mine all night...all fucking night, "he crowed. "Let me know if this hurts any...wouldn't want you to be feeling any ....pain..." 

'You don't know the meaning of the word,' Mrs. Taylor thought. 'Not that you're going to stay that way.' She held still, accepting what Greg certainly thought was his total domination and abuse. He would rapidly fuck like a demon, then pause, withdrawing completely, only to penetrate and thrust home powerfully as he pulled her back by her waist. Then out again, he repeated this a dozen times. 

Mrs. Taylor would give out a gasp of shock and pain with each blow of his cock and body that bounced her forward on the bed. For extra effect she pushed the corner of a pillow into her mouth, biting down hard as her face was set in an agonized grimace. Then he was back to rapid pussy pounding and she let the pillow fall to give out a sustained howl of outrage and primal pain. 

Greg paused in his fucking. "I thought you were a big girl. Think this is bad? We're just getting started," he said in a voice of evil. "But I like to see how I'm doing. Turn over, bitch!" 

Mrs. Taylor instantly obeyed, remembering to look terrified. Greg grabbed both of her legs and threw them up in the air. "Keep them there!' he thundered. Then he paused to look at the vagina held steady for his penetrating. With a look of contempt, he spat at it and then again. Smearing his saliva over her labia and into her vagina, he murmured tenderly, "Like I said...wouldn't want you to feel any pain." 

Then he leaned over and gave her his tongue. With a wide eyed look of horror, Mrs. Taylor took it in her mouth and sucked on it, all the while staring into his eyes as if pleading for release. Greg gave her the look of a Vampire about to suck her blood, then leaned back and got himself settled in close. "A little wider," he said as if asking for a second cup of coffee. Mrs. Taylor parted her already spread legs and closed her eyes, as if trying to block out what was about to happen. 

She could feel him massaging his cock, getting it fully ready. As he did, he made some comments about the body in front of his eyes. "You know, I really prefer girls with... a little more padding up front. Ever considered getting implants? Those tits belong in junior high. Your cunt is okay. Like your legs though...at least you know what to do with them. Ass isn't too bad...I'll get to it later...seeing as how you offered." 

At that, Mrs. Taylor opened her eyes and with a look of fright, covered her ass with a hand. "No!" she pleaded, shaking her head side to side. "I was kidding...please...I was kidding...you can't...you can't!" 

"Didn't sound like kidding to me," Greg said, moving her hand away, nodding his head up and down. "Fuck my pussy, fuck my ass...isn't that what you said? Think I'll just take you up on that...in a while...but first..." and he eased his cock into her vagina and slowly fucked like she was his most precious lover. 

Mrs. Taylor forced a few tears to trickle down her face. Then she was crying softly, as if accepting her fate. With her eyes closed she let her body appear to relax in resignation. "Just be gentle...for the love of God, be gentle."

Greg was in heaven. He was fucking an apparently now unwilling woman who had just acquiesced to anal sex. In truth, he was an anal virgin but not for lack of trying. Several girls his own age had been vaginally fucked with only token resistance, at least by his standards, only to seriously freak as his cock went for her ass. This was going to be his first anal conquest and he was already imagining his cock buried in the ass right in front of his eyes. 

He played out several anal positions in his head, all from porn videos. 'What do I want to do?' he mentally asked himself, answering, 'Anything and everything. I'm gonna fuck her ass for the rest of the night. And she's gonna be happy with it. Or I'll make her wish she was.'

Mrs. Taylor was really enjoying herself. Greg was doing a good job of fucking her and he was oblivious to the fact that he was being manipulated. It was hard to pretend to be frightened when she was actually very happy with the situation. 

"Greg...please..." she began, in a voice of adult calm. "You can...fuck me there...my...va...all you want...I don't mind...but please...please don't..."

"Fuck me in the ass" he finished, again imitating her voice. "Got to learn, Sugar Ass...you said I could...and I'm gonna...fuck your ass... fuck right up that ass of yours...I'm gonna fuck you in the ass Or are you just a...cock teasing bitch!" he finished with a thunder. 

"No...no...I mean...don't hurt me," she wailed in a practiced pitiful voice. 

"That's better," Greg oozed in a tone of derisive contempt. He got and stood by the bed. "You too, Sugar Ass. Up!"

Mrs. Taylor gave a slight gasp of fear and scrambled to do as she was told. "Take off the condom...with your mouth," he ordered, grabbing her head and forcing it down. Mrs. Taylor got onto her knees and pleaded.

"Greg...please...this is going too far. Surely you can..."

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up! You fucking bitch!" Mrs. Taylor almost lost it and had to stifle a howl of laughter. She managed to turn it into a howl of impending doom. She moved forward and took his condom covered cock into her mouth, while looking up at him with her eyes wide and pleading. Greg laughed at her fake fear and said nothing. Pretending she didn't know how to do the deed, Mrs. Taylor fumbled at removing the condom. 

Greg was getting off on watching. He was also getting off on the sensation of her mouth around his cock as she tried to suck off the condom. "With your teeth, you stupid bitch!" he finally bellowed. She pretended to gag as she tried to get his cock in deep enough to get her teeth to its base.

Mrs. Taylor could give Deep Throat as easily as she could swallow her morning coffee. With several gags and then a few heaves as if she was about to vomit, she finally pleaded for release. "I can't...please...I can't do it..."

"Useless bitch," muttered Greg as he whipped off the condom. "Now...bend over and keep that mouth of yours shut!"

With a last look of wide eyed fear, Mrs. Taylor did as she was bidden. She stood with her legs straight, her back bent over the bed and her hands on the bed for support. "Please...be gentle...for the love of god...be gentle..."

Greg wasn't interested in the love of god. He was interested in anal sex...anal rape. "You can do better than that, Sugar Ass. Spread those legs and spread that ass...and keep your fucking mouth shut." 

Mrs. Taylor did just that. She put her hands to her cheeks and parted them, while moving into the stance. "Ahhh," murmured Greg. "Much better...now you're going to get it...right up your rosy red ass. I'm gonna fuck that thing and there's not a fucking thing you can do about it. Oh...remember...keep that mouth closed or I'll have your teeth on the floor."

Mrs. Taylor knew exactly what was about to happen. She felt Greg put his unwrapped cock to her ass, felt his other hand around her waist and felt him thrust forward, accomplishing nothing. She almost let out a burst of laughter but managed to turn it into a cry of pretend pain and fear. Greg butted against her unyielding ass once more and then again. "Fuck," she heard him mutter. 

Keeping still and quiet, she could almost see the consternation on his face. She felt him try to push his cock into her ass with the help of his own hand. Feeling absolutely no pain, Mrs. Taylor cried out, "You're hurting me!"

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" Greg was obviously feeling the rage of the anally impotent. She felt him take his cock and rub it up and down her bud, as if trying to find the magic key to the anal kingdom. "What the fuck's wrong with you?" he thundered. "Open that thing!" 

"I can't," Mrs. Taylor wailed. "Please don't hurt me...I can't!" She could feel him almost bouncing, he was so frustrated. 

"Well...how the fuck do I do this?" he asked angrily. 

"I don't know," she lied to him. 'Figure it out yourself, shithead' she said to herself.

It took Greg a few seconds but a light must have gone off in his head. He grabbed the lube and hastily smeared some over his cock. Then in a moment of brilliance for him, he roughly wiped his fingers over what was eluding him. Mrs. Taylor squeezed her ass tight in mock distress. "Stop that!" he shouted. She did and he put a finger to his prize and pushed.

Mrs. Taylor howled in mock terror. "Gentle!" she said. "Gentle!" 'Make him think I'm new to this too' she thought. 'Besides, this way he just might get it in.'

Greg pushed his finger in deeper and Mrs. Taylor squirmed like she was being impaled. "For the love of god, Greg...please don't do this!"

She heard his laugh. Then she felt him take out his finger. More lube went to her ass, followed by two fingers. 'Took you long enough, idiot,' she said in silence. 

Greg pushed and both fingertips slid in. Mrs. Taylor gave a good impression of a gasp of pain which just brought out another chuckle from Greg. "Think it hurts now? Well...get ready for it, Sugar Ass. 'Cause here it comes...right up your ass..." and with that he held his cock to his target and steadily pushed.

Mrs. Taylor let out a howl of pain and indignation. When she thought that Greg was pushing about the right amount, she let her ass ring relax and felt him start to penetrate. He pushed harder while holding her waist and pulling her back. Ever so slowly, Mrs. Taylor let the boy's cock slip further into her ass. Then she relaxed and he was fully inside.

With a cry of exhalation, Greg was in his first ass. Mrs. Taylor did her best to out do him with her false screams of agony. 

"Holy...fucking...shit!," Greg cried out as he forced his cock deep into the ass that surrounding it. Mrs. Taylor clamped down in mock anal distress and gasped out her pain and rage. 

"Fuck you, asshole," she hissed. "Just get it over with. Then get the fuck out of my ass and out of my life!"

"Temper, temper," mocked Greg. "I kind of like it like this. Yessiree Bob...I like a hot tempered little woman. Think I'll just stay a while...right up your ass...and a tight one it is too. Don't like your useless tits any but your ass is just fine...real fine. Now shut the fuck up or I'll make you wish you were never born."

With that, he started to move in her. "Have your fun, little boy,' she thought. 'my turn will follow,' and she grinned.

Greg tried to move quickly but his cock was held tight by Mrs. Taylor's practiced muscles. She did give him a few whimpers of pain which seemed to make him feel better. He slowed it down and went on mocking her. "Well, well...I feel good, Sugar Ass. How about you? Like this? Like me in your ass? Glad you invited me to fuck you up your ass? God!...how I like a girl who wants me up her ass...just wish there was more of you...girls around here just don't know what their ass is really for..." 

He was moving in her steadily now. Mrs. Taylor was doing a good job of playing the woman being anally raped. She alternated between cries of pain and cries of rage. 

"God this hurts! Just get it over. Hurry up and come, you filthy bastard! Oh my god...you're killing me! Please, just finish it! Please!"

"So it hurts does it? Pity. 'Cause we're going to be here awhile. If I want to fuck your ass all night long...I'll do it...and I do...Who would have thought your little bitch ass would feel...so...fucking...good!" With each word he thrust in deep and fast. Mrs. Taylor howled in mock pain and started to laugh, skilfully disguising it as crying.

She started to tremble and she let her legs falter, slowly going down to her knees. "Please...I can't take any more...please..." 'That ought to perk up the little prick,' she thought and she was right.

Greg brought his hand down in a vicious slap across her back. "Get up!" he bellowed. "Get on the bed! Right fucking now, you filthy whore!" He spat out the words as if he was disgusted by her. "You wanted to cheat on your husband and Goddamn it, I'll make you wish you hadn't. Now, assume the position...ass in the air...bitch!" 

Mrs. Taylor gave Greg a look of shear terror and scrambled onto the bed and onto her knees. Quickly, she had her breasts to the bed and her hands spreading her cheeks while arching her ass up and up. "All right!" hissed Greg. "That's better. Got to hand it to you, Sugar Ass, you learn quick. " 

He got behind her and settled up close, putting his cock to her vagina. He held it there for a few seconds before oozing, "Just kidding," and went back to her ass. "Ready?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Just make it quick," she said in a voice of resignation.

"Now, is that any way to act, my sweet, sweet Sugar Ass?" he murmured. "I'm beginning to think you don't like this. I don't like it when a girl is...unappreciative...are you being...unappreciative?" His voice was soft but the message was clear enough.

"Yes, I mean no...I do...appreciate this...please don't hurt me...more than you have...please...don't hurt me any more...please..."

Greg pressed forward and Mrs. Taylor clamped down voluntarily for several seconds then eased it off to allow Greg's cock back into her ass. Giving him another long and mournful cry of agony, she felt his cock slid into her very accommodating second pelvic orifice. She beat a fist onto the bed for added effect. 

"Shit!" she cried out. "That hurts so much! God...fucking...damnit!" and she burst out sobbing, knowing how good it would feel to Greg's cock as she heaved with the sobs. He just held still and felt the pleasure of her anal massage. 

She really was good at this sort of thing. As her chest heaved and her sobs increased, she managed to give a little extra squeeze each time she cried out. She kept it up for a minute before allowing her sobs to subside and finally stop. After Greg got bored with no particular anal action, he started to fuck in her ass again. Mrs. Taylor pretended to be beyond caring. Greg was starting to care a lot. He was picking it up, fucking her ass in earnest.

He said nothing but just worked away at getting his first anal ejaculation. 'Little bastard's got decent staying power,' Mrs. Taylor thought as he kept it up for longer than she expected he would. She was even beginning to enjoy the ass fucking she was receiving. 'But I can't let him know that,' she thought, resisting the urge to rub her clitoris. 

"Please, please, just get it over with," she whispered. "I don't think I can take much more..." and she started to whimper. 

Greg remained silent, except for his breathing which was getting deep and ragged. 'Just about ready, I think,' she thought, expertly judging his march to climax. Greg was now loosing his rhythm, as he got closer and closer to losing his first load in a woman's ass.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck...oh fuck..." he was muttering. He was in deep and was just rubbing his hips up and down Mrs. Taylor's sweat covered ass cheeks, grinding her like she was a twenty dollar hooker. His arms went around her waist and he held on tight, humping against her. "Gonna come...gonna come...oh my god...gonna come..." and he did. 

"Fuck!" he cried out. "Fucking, fucking...Fuck!" he gasped as his body shook with the violence of his climax. Mrs. Taylor would have liked to clamp down on his cock but thought that might give away the game. Greg was now like a statue; tense and unmoving. Then with a final shudder he called out," Damn! That was...some...fuck!" and went silent.

'Time to go to work,' Mrs. Taylor thought and she smiled.

Greg collapsed backwards on the bed, releasing her. Mrs. Taylor pretended to be relived. "Thank god it's over," she said in a voice of false exhaustion. She straightened up, stretched out her back and slowly got off the bed. She looked down at Greg with angry eyes. "Get the fuck out of here." 

Greg looked back up at her with languid eyes. "Not just yet, Sugarplum...not just yet."

"I mean it, Greg. Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops." 

He just gazed down for a moment before looking back up. "I don't think so...Sugar Ass...not unless you want your hubby to find out..."




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 05



Chapter Five        

           Mrs. Taylor Reads a Book

Mrs. Taylor woke up feeling very good. She usually did after a weekend like the one she had just experienced. Mr. Rowling screwed in more ways than one, Michelle's ass reamed for her first time, the Goth Girl at the sex shop ass fucked until unconscious, then robbed and finally Greg given a serious dose of his own medicine. 'Not bad for only two days work,' she thought. 'I might even take today off.'

It was Sunday, not that Mrs. Taylor had any religious tendencies. For her, Sunday wasn't a day of rest, unless she wanted it to be. There had been plenty of her husband's clients to screw, sexually and financially on that day of the week. But today, Mr. Taylor was still out of town doing his thing. Mrs. Taylor took a long shower and then fixed herself some breakfast. 

She spent the morning doing some household chores including mowing the lawns. Both she and her husband were careful to keep up an image of a respectable, every day couple. As she was outside, several neighbours wandered by, some stopping for a short chat. Mrs. Taylor always wore conservative clothes around home. She spoke with not a trace of profanity, never said anything untoward and generally made herself look like a simple housewife. As far as the neighbours were concerned, Mr. Taylor travelled a lot on his business of selling insurance. 

After a small lunch, Mrs. Taylor took out a book from their personal library of sexual fiction and instruction. The library also contained a high end collection of erotic photography. This library was upstairs, away from any prying eyes of a neighbour who might have come into the house for some reason. Downstairs on display was a collection of popular but respectable fiction and also some general books on such boring subjects as bird watching and nature.

The book Mrs. Taylor had chosen was one of her favourites. Produced in Germany, it was a collection of very well done photographs of bondage and discipline, along with the English translations of short stories of the same genre. Having gone through the book at least a dozen times, Mrs. Taylor never got bored with it. Some of the photographs had been taken with female models that looked to be very young. Some appeared barely pubescent. The book wasn't sold in any bookstore in the country. Perhaps it was illegal. It had been taken from a wealthy connoisseur of such material, along with other books that now graced the Taylor library. The man had fallen victim to one of her husband's ploys and gladly had given the books, along with a generous amount of cash in return for silence. 

Mrs. Taylor sat in a comfortable easy chair in the library, admiring the images and reading the stories. She often got inspiration from the collection of material that surrounded her. As she reread a favourite story about a young housemaid in the seventeenth century, who turns the tables on her wealthy and sexually deviant mistress, she toyed with herself. She was good at drawing out the pleasure, stroking softly and slowly, keeping herself in a state of high but not intense sexual arousal. As the story ending drew closer with the young girl anally abusing her mistress, as she had been abused, she let her climax build and build. With a lot of practice she had perfected the art of not coming until the main character in the book was doing just that.

Frieda could only imagine what her mistress was thinking. After many penetrations to her womanly place, she had gone silent, no longer calling down death and Damnation upon her housemaid. The thick rod in Frieda's hand was wet with her mistress's drippings, as if the prolonged assault on her woman's place was welcome. Frieda's anger could only grow hotter as she considered that the woman tied down over the bench was actually revelling in the misuse of her most private place. How many others had also thrust this rod into that wet, dripping place of fornication, she wondered. How many men had rutted there until the seed of Damnation issued forth into the receptacle of her unnatural lust? How many times had she cuckolded her lawful husband, with another man's agent of Sin thrusting and thrusting, until it gushed out the hot, white wine of fornication to mix with her mistress's depraved flow?

Mrs. Taylor wasn't at all put off by the simple and dated fiction. She was more interested in the emotions than the writing. 

Frieda's blue eyes narrowed as she considered her further revenge. The dripping rod in her hand, thick and smooth, so well used by her mistress on her own young and once innocent Venus entrance, seemed not thick enough to make her mistress scream. Frieda ached to her the woman give out the cries she herself had given out when the rod first overcame her virginity. Also she ached to hear the cries of anger and rage that she had given out so many times as was she tied down over the bench for her mistress's friend's amusement. Fine ladies of Stuttgart...laughing and cackling as they played with the young and tender place where only her future husband should have gone. Fine ladies who rubbed their privates until they moaned with pleasure as they drooled their spittle in excitement at the debasing of the prostrate and bound young maiden.

'I bet they were drooling,' thought Mrs. Taylor, not blaming them one bit.

How many times had the young housemaid felt their evil fingers exploring and penetrating every part of her? How many hands had fondled her bosoms and traced the curvatures of her lithe young hips? Frieda cringed at the memories of fine ladies' fingers touching and pressing to her most unchristian place, her bodily orifice of excrement. Her very bowels heaved as she remembered fingers pushing and pushing...until her dark orifice was overcome and entered. How she had loathed the high pitched cackles of mirth as she protested this most ungenerous treatment. How many times had she endured the results of her mistress's encouragements to her fine lady friends, to debase and misuse the girl laid out for their perverse and sinister pleasures.

'I've had my fair share of laid out girls myself,' thought Mrs. Taylor, 'and then some.'

Frieda looked again upon her mistress's body. Clad only in the thin, gossamer shift that she usually wore during her abased penetrations of Frieda's body, her buttocks were clearly visible and so was the mound of dark curls covering her overused Mound of Venus. Large and pendulent bosoms hung aside the narrow bench and Frieda envisioned them fondled and used by men who were not to be there. With a dark and deep fury, Frieda took hold of the shift and tore it open in one pull. Lifting it away, she left her mistress almost as naked as she had been laid naked so many, many times. With her eyes filling with the tears of the sadness of her lost innocence, Frieda took her revenge upon those buttocks, smiting them with the rod, as if the force of her blows could drive out the demons of unnatural lust inside the perverse and debased body in front of her.

'Good on you, girl. Now you're cooking with gas.'

Her mistress shrieked out her rage and fairly spat, she was so indignant. "Hold, you verminous piece of maggot meat! I'll have your very bowels feel the sting of that rod, thrust up your filthy cunt so hard it bursts! I'll see it disappear in your very ass, you unthankful child of Sin. Where would you be if I hadn't taken you in? Spreading your legs nightly at every tavern in Stuttgart, I'll wager. Release me or I swear by Satan's hairy balls, I'll drag you to one this very night! And I'll supply the piece of copper that will be the price of your fucking! I'll take one hundred of them, I will! Now, release me!

'Don't do it girl, don't do it. She'll just see you fucked one hundred times anyway...'

"Nay, I won't! I won't! You are but a harlot and a slut. You are but a scandalous adulteress, rutting and grunting with any man who cares to taste the vileness of your...your...wicked, wicked...cunt! There! I said it! To these depths of inequity have you driven me. You and your fancy harlot lady friends, your evil partners in depravity and blasphemous sin. How many men have...have...fucked you and for only the price of asking? How many need not ask, knowing full well your debased penchant for cuckolding your husband? Call me a piece of maggot meat will you? Take that! And that! And that!" 

Frieda laid on with a will. Again and again, the very rod that had so cruelly penetrated her very femininity endless times came down upon the buttocks of her mistress. With her legs tied down over the side of the bench, Frieda could see the very orifice of her that was so recently foully threatened of her own body. Her mistress's dark orifice was there in front of her. Even darker thoughts were coursing through her fevered head. 

'Do it, Frieda, stick that rod right up there. Fill that 'dark orifice. No mercy now, Frieda'

"Now you will feel the vile touching that I have endured these past two years. Now you will be debased lower than any of your filthy lovers has ever done to you." Frieda knew that what she was about to do was punishable by the most vile and devilishly depraved instruments that the town execution had in his terrible dungeon. She had heard stories of what happened to woman who ran afoul of the town council. And she knew that her mistress would be only to pleased to see Frieda sent into those dark and terrible walls. But the anger in her burned hotter than any fear of retribution. With eyes set narrow with both hate and the expectation of long sought revenge, she put a fingertip to her mistress's forbidden place.

"Frieda!" screamed out her mistress. "No! For the love of God and for all the Angels, no! Touch not that place! Any other, but not that. It would be most unbecoming of a lady such as myself to be violated in that place! Do not touch again and all will be forgiven. You may stay in my employment, unpunished and unharmed...but you mustn't do this to me!"

'Fuck that noise, girl...ram that rod! Right up the bitch's unbecoming place...'

"Nay will I listen to your false promises of hope. I know you well, mistress. Having released you from these bonds, I would be in the town dungeon this very night, perhaps never to be seen again, dead after the most wicked tortures and renderings of my body. Dead after being the lust object of every scoundrel in Stuttgart with a single copper piece to pay the executioner. Nay, mistress. You'll have no release or succour from me!"

With those excoriating words, Frieda thrust her finger forward but gained no advance. Then she remembered the hands of those cronies, preparing her dark orifice for its unnatural uses. Yes! There it was! A pot on unguent, prepared from the rendered fat of a suckling pig. There to ease the task the cronies' fingers in their most inhuman debasement of her body and her very soul. Now it was her mistress's turn to feel the most unnatural of the sensations, the penetration of that which should never be penetrated.

'Not so unnatural in my book, Frieda, but it's your story...'

Taking the small pot, Frieda removed its cover and dipped her forefinger into it. With cold and heartless eyes, she glared at the orifice of her mistress, that which had been so many times penetrated of her own body. With a steady hand, she touched her anointed finger to that most dark and forbidden of humanly places. "Noooo!" intoned her mistress. "Please...I beg of you...spare me this most cruel of insults, this most wretched assault on my dignity...the dignity of a lady and your cherished protector."

"Nay, you most unladylike and unchristian of mistresses. Nay will I grant to you the reprieve I so desperately beseeched you for myself, only to be cruelly mocked and penetrated so many, many times as you and your verminous friends indulged your base desires upon my most tender of places. You, who so cruelly mocked the most...are going to feel this darkest and most horrible of penetrations...Now!" and Frieda pushed with the strength of deepest hatred, howling with dark delight as she saw her finger impale the orifice. 

"See! See how my finger most deeply debases you, mistress. Feel the touch where no touch should be felt! Taste the bitterest of biles as your very soul rebels at this most wanton of penetrations. And fear not! This has only begun! My blood runs cold and I will not stop your punishments until the heat of my labours leaves me finished!"

'You tell her, girl. Warm that blood of yours...but not too quickly...' 

Frieda felt a wave overcome her. A wave of emotion she had never felt before; never even suspected of being possible in a good Christian girl. She felt a dark and demonly lust. She felt an implacable urge to debase herself while debasing her mistress. She felt the urge to rub her privates as her finger twisted and turned in her mistress's penetrated orifice, twisting and turning as she had felt the fingers in her deepest place being used. With a gasp of surprise and horror she felt her hand already at her privates and saw it moving, one finger already poised at the entrance to her most womanly of places. 

'Mother Mary, mother of our most beneficent Lord Jesus...forgive me...' she prayed silently...and then gently pushed her sinful fingertip into her strangely moist womanly place. She gasped, both at her depravity and at the wave of forbidden pleasure that flowed from her warm and sinfully inviting sex. With increasing lust, she probed deeper...deeper until she stared in shock at her finger, impaled into her own body. With a shudder of revulsion and of heated passion, she withdrew her most debased of fingers and saw it glisten with the fluid of her own Damnations. 

'Trust me, girl, you'll still be there tomorrow. Ain't no Mother Mary needed here. More fingers, but Mother Mary can go fuck herself...and you can too..."

Frieda moved her gaze to the cruel mistress tied over the bench. Her dark orifice was still penetrated by her wayward housemaid's finger. Frieda felt a new wave of dark and bitter rage well up in her heart as she realized that the depravities of her mistress and her fine lady friends had driven her to this demonic releasing of her Original Sin. 

"Now my most depraved and sinful mistress...you shall feel the anguishes I felt as you and your most sinful lady friends assaulted me in the darkest and most unchristian ways. Now you shall be the provider of my lustful desires and my most horrid of pleasures."

"Nay, sweet child. Follow not in the ways I followed. It was the Pastor's wife who misled us into darkest temptations. It was she who counselled us in the Dark Arts of debauchery. Spare me your revenge and I shall summon her forth...for you to have your way with her...and all we be most certainly forgiven. I swear on my most Christian of hearts!"

"You play me for a fool, my mistress! Upon your summons, the Pastor's wife would return with a dozen of the most vile of the city guard and it would be me who suffered her revenge, as you watched and called upon the guards to greater and greater efforts in their despoilment of my bodily orifices! Nay shall I submit to your wicked entreaties! Your words are but pale reflections of the wickedness in your heart!"

'Kudos, Frieda. Trust no one. Especially a bitch with one of your fingers up her ass.' 

"Then you shall suffer, you vilest of ungrateful girls! I shall she you raped by every poxed soldier in the King's army! I shall see you tied naked to the pillory and I myself shall hang the sign around your wretched neck. Have Your Way Good Men of Stuttgart shall be my instruction. And I shall sit upon my sedan and take my merriment as each man in turn thrusts his manhood again and again into your wretched cunt! And the most grievously thick manly organs this city can offer are to be reserved for the hole of your ass! It will take weeks before the men tire of your debasements. Think upon that, you spawn of Satan's lust!"

Frieda felt the sting of that insult cut to her very soul. She had never known her father, cut down in battle, defending against the French. But her mother had often spoken of his admirable qualities and of his love for his only child. When the fever took her mother and left her an orphan, there was no one who would take her in. The pastor's only sympathies were to have her indentured to the woman who had made that most grievous of insults about her parentage. 

"Your foolish and poisoned tongue has added but one more grievance to my list, mistress but it is the heaviest grievance of all." Frieda's voice was as cold as a witch's tit and she felt her heart grow colder still. With dispassionate eyes she took in her mistress's dark orifice. 'One vengeful finger seems a poor bargain' she mused. 'If I'm to be damned for my actions here, I may as well be dammed for a Thaler as a Pfenning.'

With cold laughter, Frieda withdrew her one finger and put two in its place.

'Two's a good step, Frieda. It's what precedes three, four and five.'

"What devilment is this?' cried out her mistress. "You've debased my darkest place and you go further? Stop! No more lest I prefer to see you burned at the stake as the witch that you surely are!"

"Nay, mistress, for if I am a witch then how much more so are you. You, whom pleasured yourself so frequently at the very place I now seek my revenge. And what of the other most foul pleasures that you did extract from my protesting self? How many times did you place your womanhood to my mouth as I lay trussed and hapless in this very way that you now find so unpleasant? How many times did you urge your lady friends to also take their pleasures in that way? What was I to you but a vessel to drink your vile and putrid intoxications from? What was I but an innocent to be corrupted again and again. Nay will I stop until you have had more than your fill of your own debasements that you so merrily forced upon me. Not until I've drenched my growing dark passions shall you be left to whimper away your hurt and crushed womanly feelings as you so often left me to do the same."

Frieda paused once more to seek the gentle intervention of the Mother. 'Please. Please. Please. Most compassionate and pure of women, mother of our Lord and heavenly protector of earthly sinners....take from me this most impure of dark feelings...this unnatural desire to...fill what shouldn't be filled...and to satisfy what should forever be left unsatisfied...take from me these darkest and most depraved of lusts and deliver me from my road to Damnation...Amen...'

Frieda waited and urged the Mother to release her from her base desires but there was no heavenly intervention forthcoming. 'Then I go willingly where my natures take me,' she said silently. 'Even to the very gates of Hell itself I will walk this road of demonical pleasures.'

'Do that, Frieda, and I promise you that you'll never regret it. At least I never have.'

Frieda abandoned her quest for release and with a growing sense of dark and powerful urges, she set upon her mistress. Two years of pent up rage and hate seemed to well up and overcome her soul. With but one night to satisfy her revenge for two years of the vilest of sexual debasements, she lost none of it in her new quest to reduce her mistress to the very deepest depths of defilement. 

Her two fingers sought to torture her mistress's rectal opening and she felt herself twisting and clawing inside it, as it to open it forever.

"Noooo!" screamed out her thrashing mistress, only to be held by her bonds. "Stop! Stop this at once! It hurts so! It hurts too much! Nay can I live with such unnatural pains and treatments! Stop! I pray you! Stop!"

Frieda was no longer in a mood to be entreatied. "How many times did your ears hear these very sentiments? How many times did you cackle and crow as you continued in your pleasures at the expense of my Christian soul? Nay, mistress, you'll receive no quarter from me for I received none from you!"




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 05



The memories of her own voice pleading for release from those depraved sexual tortures and being rebuffed with further insult, had Frieda's fevered mind in the darkest of humours. 

"Frieda! Frieda! I beseech you! It was the Pastor's wife who had us under her spell! She is the witch! Yes! She is the daughter of Satan who beguiled and made us do her darkest biddings! Release me and I'll see her burned! I'll see her very witchcraft poisoned soul consumed by the flames. And you! You will be my witness against her!"

"Do you think me fool enough to forget that it was you alone who preyed upon my innocence a full two seasons before you offered me to your lady friends? Do you think me witless? I recall that the Pastor's wife was the last of your fine friends to be invited to partake in the debasements and that you had to convince her to do so. Only by your threats to go to her husband with her other out of wedlock affairs did she reluctantly agree to please you. Nay, mistress, your false accusation is worthless. Just as your very soul is worthless to our Lord."

'Tell her, girl. Your momma didn't raise no fool.'

"Then think of your soul, sweet, sweet Frieda. Release me and I shall purchase the indulgence from a Papist priest that shall ensure your salvation. Even if I must travel to Rome itself, it will be done. Just release me and it shall be so!"

Frieda had long suspected that her Catholic parentage was one of the reasons for her mistress's delight in her sexual debasements. How many times had she heard her mother referred to as 'that Papist whore'. 

"Nay and again, nay, my mistress, for if I were to release you the only thing you would purchase would be the chains to fix me to the pillory, naked and to be raped and sodomized by every man with a turgid organ to do so. When I leave this vile house, this den of inequity, you will still be bound! As to your being alive...that alone remains to be decided! Nothing would pleasure me more than to beat you about your head until your very brains are dead! And I would use this very rod! The one that has penetrated me so cruelly and so often! 

Nay, mistress! My salvation is not your concern. It is your own that should be foremost on your mind! By my actions here I am already damned if I remain in Stuttgart. So I leave this very night! Your life is in my hands, mistress. As to leaving you a lifeless beaten corpse...I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't! So spare me your contemptuous lies lest I take my revenge on your life right now!"

The deceitful woman, bound over the bench went silent as she considered the words that possibly portended her earthly demise. Frieda now stood, naked and proud as she considered what further sexual abuses she might heap upon her tormentor. Still holding the rod, she resisted her dark urges to bring it down mightily upon the head of the no longer tormenting mistress who had mistreated her for so long. 'No,' she thought. 'It would be too easy a release. You shall pay, mistress. You have run a debt that can never be repaid, but at least I will extract the interest. From your vile body, I shall extract my interest and it shall be of the same coin as your debt.'

'Now you're talking, Frieda. The bitch is yours. Play with her.'

Frieda walked around the bench and ran her eyes up and down the near naked woman bound prostrate before her. Then with an angry pull, she ripped the thin shift asunder, leaving her mistress as naked as herself. She mounted upon the back of her now silent mistress and took a handful of her hair. Pulling it back and lifting the head, she leaned close and whispered into an ear. 

"If you chose life...you will obey my every word. If you protest...you will have chosen death. Do we have a bargain?"

Her mistress was in an unenviable position, not one from which to seek terms. She said, "Yes...we have a bargain..."

"So quickly you lose your vaulted station, my mistress. I'm sure you will know what is expected of you now."

And with that, Frieda slipped off from her mount and took seat in front on the bench, her womanhood not but an inch from her mistress's face. Getting not the immediate reply to her motioned request, Frieda tapped the rod onto the head between her legs, pulling up on its hair as she did. Her wordless threat was well taken and she thrilled to see the woman's mouth seek out the feminine parts before her. Frieda eased forward and sighed deeply.

'What pleasures...what sinful joys' she thought as her body writhed at the exquisite sensations her mistress was causing to issue forth from her most womanly of places. She closed her eyes and drank in the demonic delights that soon had her panting and moving against the pleasuring mouth that so filled her head with raptures. 'Mother Mary, forgive me' she silently prayed as her body moved in a dance of sexual heat. 

Many times Frieda had pleasured herself in the darkness and solitude of her tiny room. But this! This was so much richer...so much more delightful...and so much stronger! Wave after wave of deepest erotic tensions rippled into her from her well serviced vulva. She opened her eyes to gaze at her mistress's mouth, sucking and kissing and her tongue licking and probing...ahhh....ahhh...the pleasures of Lesbos she had heard of and dreamed of coursed through her veins. 

"Yes...yes..." she murmured, her fevered brain seeking more and more. "Mother Mary! Such delight...such pleasures...such....such...wondrous raptures! Don't stop...don't stop...yes...yes..."

Frieda knew the feelings of sexual release. Many times she had sought them as they had seemed her only friend in a cold and cruel world. But never had she felt the pleasures rise so high. Never had she felt her self climbing up such a mountain of sexual delight. She was getting so that she must burst. Burst, lest the power of her heated desires render her senseless. 

Frieda found herself rutting against the face at her vulva. Gone was any feeling of sin. All that consumed her was the deepest of desires to reach the pinnacle of this mountain and fall...and fall...

"Mother Mary...help me...help me...I die...I die..." the frenetic Frieda cried out and then, when she felt the pleasures were now pain, heavy, heavy pain, she felt the joys burst forth and she screamed.

Lazarus himself would have been awakened. Frieda's tortured soul had found release and it bellowed out its freedom. "Joseph...Mary...and Jesus!" With each utterance, she thrust forward into her mistress, her body convulsing with her release. And then with a last wave of pleasure that had her trembling, she fell forward over her mistress and lay gasping. 

'Good one, was it? So much better than those little popcorn climaxes you've been giving yourself. Don't stop now, Frieda.'

'If I burn in Hell forever...it was worth it,' Frieda mused as she slowly came back from a place she had never been before. Her young and nubile body was wet with the sweat of her pleasures. She delighted in gently rocking back and forth over her mistress's back. Her tender young bosoms were against the buttocks of her mistress and she felt them calling upon her to intensify their uses. Frieda slowly rose up and dismounted. Her release had not left her satisfied. It had only whetted her appetite for more.

'So, my fine mistress," Frieda began, "how do you reconcile yourself now? Our places have gone half circle and now it is I who revels in your sexual debasements. It is I who now pleasures while you do the pleasuring. What gain is your wealth and position now, my fine lady? What succour do they prevail upon you? None!! What power do they give you over me? None!! What power do I have over you? As long as these bonds hold...I have all power over you and while you might pray for rescue, you know none is forthcoming. As long as I please, you are mine to torment. And remember our bargain. At your first word of protest...I shall beat the very life from you...and cackle as I do so. Tempt me not...for my rage is endless and your debt is unpayable. If you survive the night, it is but my choice. I have others!"

'When you've got them by the short and curlies...their hearts and minds will surely follow. That's my motto.'

Frieda knew not what to consider next. Having never been in a place to decide the fate of another, she considered her various plays. 'As of yet, my mistress, you have not felt the full fury of an assault upon your womanly place. The rod I hold has work to do!"

"Now, mistress, I'll wager you have felt your womanly place filled by the male organs of full half the townsmen of this fair city. Many a time you have filled mine with this rod. Now comes your turn at playing the receptacle of its fullness. I'll also wager that you have sought the most generous of male members to pleasure your...your...cunt! But now it your place to accept this unwanted penetration. And if you have any illusions as to your pleasures at such a penetration...take this!" And with her last word, Frieda placed the rod to her mistress's vagina and thrust it forward. 

The shriek of protest was the same as she herself had uttered so many times before. The rod fairly impaled her mistress's womanhood and plunged deep, only to be withdrawn and plunged again and again. Frieda felt a power, a strength that she had only dreamed of as she punished her mistress's vagina as her own had been punished so many times before. As the bound and hapless woman thrashed against her bonds, Frieda exalted in her new found place. Now she was the abuser and her erstwhile mistress was the abused. Her hand was at her own femininity, rubbing furiously, as she assaulted that of the woman whom had assaulted her so often before. 

"Now, my vile mistress...what say you now? How feels the rod you so venomously plunged into me? How feels your...your cunt! How feels your cunt as I pummel it as you pummelled me?"

Frieda felt her rubbing increase, driving her to more and more places of darkest appeasement. She thrilled at how quickly she felt the rising tides of her own lustful desires. She both rubbed and pummelled as if the very Hounds of hell were beset against her. With ever increasing heat, she soared to the peaks of lust and...and...crested the mount to fall in an orgy of self abasement. 

"Lord Jesus, I kill me...I die...I die...let me never stop this death! Satan, fill me with this heat forever! Again! Once more! Take me with your member, Satan! Impale me on your lusting pole! Thrust it to my depths! Fill me! Fill me!"

Frieda's hand was fury itself as she drove to another release. In but a moment she was calling out.

"Yes! Yes! I die again! Again! Again! Lucifer, take me! Take me!" And once more, Frieda felt the dissolution of her soul as she trembled at the alter of lust. Her very bones were but milk as she shuddered and quaked at the surge of vile pleasures washing through her formless body. Her eyes rolled back and she howled the cry of the wolf, standing over its dying prey.

'Mother, this is sin...and I embrace it!' Frieda thought. 'I am damned or not...but this is my place now! A seeker of pleasures and a despoiler of women! Such ecstasy! Such fulfillment! My destiny awaits!'

'But how to make good my escape?' she thought. 'To stay here is death. Only to flee is life. But how to make my fortune?'

As she posed the question, the solution was already in her quick mind. Her mistress had lived very well after her husband's death. No widow seeking the surcease of a wealthy benefactor was she. Golden guilders she must have. A treasure trove of them and Frieda was determined to claim them as her own.

Her lust for sexual pleasures was now matched by her lust for her mistress's gold. Taking her mistress's head in her hands, she whispered close. "Where is it? Where is the hoard of gold you use to live your life of debauched pleasures. Tell me or I'll see your brains on this very rod!"

"Nay, sweet Frieda! I have none! I eke my existence on the mercies of others! No golden treasure sustains my life! I am but an impoverished widow, bereft of my late husband's support. I beseech you! Penniless I am, adrift on this ocean of poverty!"

"Nay, my mistress of venomous lies! Make your choice. Your money or your life!"

And with that, Frieda brought down the rod upon her head, not to stun but to remind. 

"Wait! Wait, sweet Frieda! I have but a little. In my purse, in my boudoir...a few guilders you may find. Take them and leave me! Leave me penniless and go!"

"A few guilders! I have less interest in that than I do in your life, false mistress! Reveal to me your hoard or I'll anoint your verminous body with lamp oil and toss the match myself!"

"Nay, sweet Frieda! Burn me not for a beggar...for a beggar I am! No hoard sustains me! My husband left me to eke out a miserable life of poverty!"

'We shall see, my mistress of dubious truth. We shall see!" And with that, Frieda left the sunken chamber and went for the store of oil in the kitchen. Returning she poured a copious amount over her hapless mistress and then stood back. Taking a burning candle. She waved it in front of her mistress's eyes and hissed, "One chance only, you despicable spawn of the Devil's seed. Reveal what I seek or feel the fires of Hell take you to your final resting place...the Devil's own kitchen, hotter than any fire you have ever felt! Roast in eternal Damnation, you bitch of evil! Your life means less than that of a worm! Burn, for all I care...and good riddance to you!"

'You tell her, Frieda! And if you don't burn her...beat her brains out! On second thought, do both!'

Frieda passed the candle close to her mistress's oil soaked face. With a heartfelt surge of self protection, the bound, and evil woman capitulated. "You drive a hard bargain, Frieda. You can have my gold and I hope you choke on its weight! I wish you a long and excruciating death! In my study, you will find it. Behind the painting of my husband, you will find a hidden alcove. Plunder it and be gone! If I ever have the pleasure of meeting you again...your life is forfeit. Think upon the pains I will inflict upon you as you plunder my treasure! To the very ends of the earth I will follow you! Never cease to look behind because I will die before I give up my quest to see you raped, sodomized, hung, drawn and quartered! I will see your giblets roasting on a brassier as you draw your last breaths. Think upon this curse as you fill your pockets. As the weight of my gold bears you down, so shall my vengeance hold you in its thrall. You will never be rid of me...my sweet, sweet Frieda. I shall prevail and you shall perish in an agony of pain! Doubt me not, for I shall seek you out! From the depths of Hell's perdition, I shall follow you! My vengeance shall exceed your most worldly resistance! You shall die with my cackling the last sounds of your execrable life! Take my gold and flee! You'll not be long in enjoying it! I shall have it back and so much more! Your slow and excruciating death shall be my most wondrous revenge! You shall be rid of me in death and nothing less!"

Frieda had no more use for her foul mistress's empty threats. With a careful blow, she brought down the rod on her mistress's head, leaving her victim senseless but very much alive. She then left the chamber and began her preparations. 

Entering her mistress's boudoir, she dressed in simple but costly clothes, as a woman on a travel. Leaving any thoughts of her own poor clothing aside, she filled a trunk with the finery of a woman to the nobility born. A second smaller trunk she filled with the accoutrements befitting a lady of her ill gotten status. Fine perfumes, jewellery and make ups she tossed in with cool detachment. When she well convinced she could pass as a lady of high birth, out on a travel to a new country, she brushed out her hair and applied make ups to brighten her visage and also to disguise her features. When satisfied with her deceit, she strode into her past mistress's study and pulled the portrait of the deceased husband aside.

Hidden cleverly was a cupboard. Pulling it open, Frieda stared at a treasure she had difficulty believing could be before her. A chest was there which upon opening was full to the brim with golden guilders. A second chest, equally as large was teeming with glittering jewels, pearls of exquisite quality and chains of the finest wrought gold. Before her was a treasure to afford her a life of luxury, wealth beyond Crocious and every whim her newly darkened heart could conceive. Visions of women, pleasuring her to ever heightening peaks filled her mind and then were replaced by the images of men with thick, thick oak hard erections, filling her womanly and her dark orifices, driving her to ever more wickedly and Damnable pleasures. Orgies of sexual lust and fulfillment occupied her fevered mind as she ran her hands through the King's ransom contained in the chests. 

She was now only concerned with her escape, how to get herself and her new found treasure far from the city. She walked to a window and gazed at the Moon. It was at least five hours until dawn be her reckoning. The city seemed fast asleep and her escape would have to wait until the sun was up. Until then, she had work to do.

Her once mistress was where she had been left, trussed to the bench that had so often been Frieda's place. She knew that if she left her mistress alive, her own life was forfeit. She fully believed her mistress's threats. The only way Frieda saw to live was to end the life of her tormentor. But first, she had more to avenge. Two years of vile abuse could not let her end her tormentor's life with mercy. 

'I like the way you're thinking, girl. Fuck that bitch! And do it until you're exhausted!'

Frieda paused in her thoughts and once again prayed for surcease. "Mother Mary," she intoned out loud, "take from these thoughts of violent end. Relieve my burdened mind and purify my blackened heart. Let me slip away befouled by no more darkness. Let your mercy fill me and guide my hand. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Santi...Amen."

Frieda held her head low and her eyes closed. Hoping for the spirit of grace to rise in her, she felt only the cold heart she had known for two years. 'So be it," she murmured and returned to the chamber. 

Her once mistress turned her head at the sound of her return. "Find it, you Papist whore? Then leave and await the guards who will pursue you to the ends of the earth! They shall drag you back in chains and dispose of you at my doors. When I have finished with you in this very chamber you shall spend weeks at the pillory, men's seed dripping in rivers from every hole your cursed body does posses! Your days are numbered, you poxed and filthy spawn of Satan's lust! When the men have had their fill of you, I'll see you roasting at the stake and all the seed of all the men in Stuttgart won't staunch the flames! I curse you and your poxed body to Hell!!"

'Whoa, girl. You gonna take that? You gonna let the bitch have the last word?'

Frieda felt no insult but only her growing sense of strength. "You forget yourself, mistress," she hissed and taking up the rod, beat down upon the oil slicked body before her. Careful to not render her tormentor senseless, she rained down blow after vengeful blow upon legs, buttocks, back and feet. 

The shrieks of her mistress and the cries for mercy were lost upon Frieda. Down came the rod until her arm ached and her breathing was staggered. 

"Now, my well reminded mistress! Our bargain still stands! You have come close to choosing death! Tell me again your plans for my future! Tell me again and choose your words well...for they...may...be...your...last!"

With each choked word, Frieda had brought down the rod with vicious anger upon the beaten buttocks below her. With heaving chest she stood back and surveyed her wrath. The pummelled woman was now silent, even as the bruises and welts appeared on her once pampered body. Frieda felt as if another guided her movements as she again mounted her tormentors back and put the rod under her chin, to pull back with deadly intent.




Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 05



"Hear this, you of the many times rutted cunt! Hear this, oh worshipper of Satan's filthy ass hole! You've no more coin with me, verminous slut! You're days and nights of whoring this city may end but now if I don't hear you reconsider your words for me. Think of your own flesh roasting if I touch a match to your oiled and putrid skin. Think of the stench of your own burning skin filling your nose as I watch you writhe and twist against your bonds! Once more, dear...sweet...mistress! Your wishes for me are..."

"Frieda, sweet Frieda...forgive my intemperance. My head is still bewitched by the Pastor's witch. Leave with my blessings and all you can carry. Just give me your mercies and beat me no more."

Frieda relaxed her grip and her mistress's head fell to the bench. "So much politer you are...when you're reminded of your place," she crooned. "Call me or my mother a whore once more and I'll see your brains strewn about this chamber. Call me the spawn of Satan once more and I'll roast your back while I fill your ass with this rod. Now...I'll take my pleasures of you again, and you'll be keen about your duties...or I'll beat you to death! 

Frieda lifted her skirts and took her place before her mistress's face. "Again, sweet, sweet mistress...and again once more if I should so choose."

"Ahhh," she sighed as her woman's place was again the source of her pleasures. 

'Frieda girl, get creative...get some heat happening here...'

"Mistress...your tongue serves me better in this task than it did with your words. Your mouth is so much softer as it does my pleasuring than as it insults. So much softer than it was as you cursed me so cruelly but moments ago. I come closer for your tongue to enter deeper. Ahhh...yes. Deeper my mistress. That which you so recently derided as my cunt...give it your full attention, mistress, lest I choose to take my anger instead of my pleasure."

Frieda leaned back to put her vagina fair into her mistress's mouth. With one hand she held the head between her legs close hard and with her other she stroked herself between her labia as she had so many times while alone. Her woman's pleasure bud was hard and wet, and she thrilled to be taking such liberties with her mistress, bound and held before her. 

"Such pleasures I feel...such heat fills my loins...your tongue does finally please me, mistress. Please me well and you may yet live. Please me not and for you...all is lost. My deepest, most sinful lusts you will satisfy this night...or...a flagon of lamp oil and a candle flame will be your reward. What say you, mistress?" Frieda moved her feverish vulva back but an inch and awaited her mistress's words.

"Yes, sweet Frieda, I live to see you pleasured. Do with me as you will if it means my life is spared. Just spare my skin the burning oil and you will be well serviced in your pursuits of the darkest of lusts. All that you seek...shall I provide."

"And you will, my mistress, you will," and Frieda moved forward her inch. Her heart sang to see her mistress's tongue thrust into her waiting vagina again and again. Her hand returned to its place and sinuously rolled her hips and shoulders, the waves of pleasure driving the dance.

The peak of Venus was close and Frieda was loath to find it too soon. 'I shall dally a while, and what I miss in quick release shall more than be made up in a higher of peaks.' She moved back and considered her dalliance. 'Yes,' she mused. 'I shall,' and turning away from her mistress, she resettled with her buttocks fair hard against the face of her trussed mistress. In a gesture of both contempt and dark lust, she reached her own cheeks and spread them wide to move her very anus into that face. "Now, my mistress...hear me well. Do to my dark orifice as you have done so well to my woman's place. Fail me and you shall be...anointed with oil."

The threat made its mark and she felt the tongue against her anus, pushing and licking. Frieda was amazed at how she felt. Instead of the revulsion she had envisioned at the touch of a tongue to her anus, she felt a rush of passion, of a quality she had never experienced before. While the fingers of her mistress and her fine lady friends had caused her to quiver in shame and degradation, this touch was wondrously different. 

'Ain't it so, girl...ain't it so...'

Frieda final felt the pleasures of the touch in such a dark and forbidden way, that she writhed in illicit passion. As her mistress was forced to use her tongue where before she had forced her fingers into Frieda so unkindly, the sensations were most welcome and sought. She moved her buttocks up and down, side to side as she relished both the heat flowing from her anus and also the heady powers of knowing her mistress was now deeply debased as Frieda herself had been, so often before. 

"Yes, mistress, lap at my anus, lap like a dog! In with it! Yes! Again! Again!" she commanded and gave a most unchristian moan as her order was fulfilled. 

"Stop and you shall burn! Sweet Mother...why does this pleasure me so! If it pleases you to have me lust after this most defiling of ravishments...then so be it and I will!"

Frieda had one hand under her body, stretching to reach herself and was rocking her clitoris onto her fingers. "Such raptures! Such raptures! Harder, mistress! Harder! Fill my anus with your tongue! Yes! Yes! I die and die again! Holy Mother...I...I..." and she was again stretched over the Peak of Venus, her body tensed and shuddering. 

"Sweet...sweet...Jesus!!" she called out and was falling down that precipice of carnal release. "Fucked!...Fucked!...I am fucked!" she gasped as the shocks of release coursed through her body. As she rubbed her last pleasures from her vulva, she felt a wetness she had never produced before. 

'What magic is this...what illicit and carnal black magic causes such a wondrous discharge from my feminine orifices?' Her mind was not yet settled and she thanked her real Mistress. 'Sweet Mother...such a gift you have bestowed upon me. Such carnal raptures I never believed could possibly flow from such untoward desires. May our Lord bless and keep such raptures flowing...Amen...' and she rested without moving.

"Now, sweet Frieda, you must release me and let me attend...to the arrest of the witch...the Pastor's false wife...as she is clearly now the bride of Satan. You see yourself, what bewitchment she has brought unto you. Release me and we will both attend to her trial and burning. Now, sweet Frieda...before her bedevilment takes you again!"

Frieda smiled softly and murmured, "Me thinks not, good lady. For you are no longer my mistress and I am no longer your housemaid. The Pastor's wife plays no part in these events. They are of your making, and I have but begun to drink from this new chalice that you yourself have prepared. Nay...you shall remain bound for as long as I desire, as you have left me bound...over many long nights...until dawn finally had you sending me to other duties. Now I take my leave of you for other pleasures. But worry not, for I shall return to take from your most carnal and precious chalice again. Question not my wants for the jar of lamp oil the kitchen holds is full...and the candles still burn. I shall have your silence or...I shall have your life!"

'That's right, Frieda. Nothing like the threat of death to get her thinking your way.'

Frieda slowly rose and with a long, wilful gaze at her captive, bade her consider the foolishness of dissent. Satisfied at the silence she strode from the chamber and climbed the stairwell into the kitchen. Through it she walked into the parlour and took seat in one of the plush chairs. She felt strangely content, despite her recent delvings into the most forbidden of pleasures. She closed her eyes and thought of her escape. Knowing she must flee and never be seen in these parts again, she took her stock and made her plan.

Gold and fine jewels she now had in abundance but how to take them and herself to safety? And what other plunder would she need to acquire to make her life one of ease and pleasure? She rose and took advantage of her new station, pouring herself a goblet of fine brandy from her once mistress's crystal decanter. The liquor had never passed her lips before and she carefully sipped its heady and fiery golden draught. 

"Ummmm..." she murmured. "So this is the drink of the gentry. Such warmth and comfort. Such intense and delicious flavour. A fitting drink for my new station. But I must take care." She knew how little of this liquid would turn her head to nonsense, having witnessed its effects so often when her once mistress partook of it.

Frieda had seen to the cleaning and arrangement of the house for two years and knew its contents like she knew her own breasts. Its finery and costly accoutrements were amongst the most opulent in the city. The late man of the house had prospered greatly and his widow lacked for nothing. 

'It's mine to take...all of it...but...I must choose wisely. I will take only what I can secret away without suspicion. And I must have a ruse to confuse any who might otherwise question my doings.' 

Frieda looked at the most wondrous of the room's contrivances, a clock of opulent and cunning design. The hour was not quite midnight. 'I must flee upon the morrow, but how?' she pondered. 'Yes! That will do with perfection,' she thought as a sly plan came into her mind.

Outside the street was quiet but not deserted. Men shuffled home from the taverns and a woman of the night plied her trade, offering her body for a moment's pleasure. Frieda heard her sultry entreaties given to a drunkard who stood and swayed. "Venus for ten Pfennings, good sir. Perhaps you'll accept from me what you lack in your own house. Horseback or the pleasures of dark places. Come, good sir, ten Pfennings for what you see," and with that, Frieda watched as the whore opened her corselet to expose her breasts.

The man just stared and then reached for the proffered breasts. He took them and roughly fondled, before letting out a crude laugh. "Such tits are for sale the next street over for five Pfennings and yours are so spent, they would fall to your cunt if you let them. Away with you, and go fuck some other!"

'Good sir, if it's finer breasts you seek...my daughter...just thirteen...with breasts just filling and...and...her cunt...never filled by a man before...never...yours to deflower for twenty-five Pfennings...such a bargain, good sir..."

"And my cock would rut where one hundred others have gone before! Away with you!" and with that he struck her on her face and lurched off. 

Frieda's heart went soft for the woman, forced to eke out an existence in such a cruel fashion. She knew full well that the daughter had likely been rutted in one hundred times or more, forced like her mother to earn her daily bread by accepting the seed of many men each night. She shuddered at the thought of herself in such a life. While her body had been the source of many women's dark delights, at least she had a proper roof over her head and food to eat. 

"Good woman! Come here. I have need of you," she called to the whore. At the beckoning, the whore crossed the street and walked up to the house. 

"So, my little pretty...it's a woman's touch you seek. Or are there men in the house who feel the needs of release?" 

Her face was haggard and coated in thick make ups. She was missing several teeth and the rest were black and rotted. She reeked of lack of bathing and of cheap scents. Frieda could only imagine what poxes she gave freely with her ten Pfenning fucks.

"No, good woman, you are mistaken. I only want you to deliver a message." Frieda pressed a silver coin into the whore's hand. "Go to the station house and tell them prepare a coach for a long journey. My mistress bids me meet her in Frankfurt with supply from this house. Go and tell them be here upon the dawn. And...here's another coin for your haste." She pressed a second into the whore's hand.

"Bless you, m'lady. Bless you." And she was off.

Frieda now had the night to prepare. But first, she felt another thirst for the chalice that had so well serviced her desires. Closing and bolting the door, she turned and made for the chamber. Stopping only for fresh candles, she walked down the stairwell and stopped to view her captive. 

'That's my girl. Have a good look. And don't forget to poke and prod a little.'

The lady Marzner was still young by the standards of most widows. But Frieda knew the Merchant Marzner had taken her as his third wife, after his second had died in childbirth, just as had his first. Marzner had no surviving children and he had taken the woman not out of affection, but to give him a son to carry on his name and business. Frieda also knew that the woman bound before her came from a family of high birth but reduced circumstances, having lost their lands to the Prussians in one of the endless series of wars and skirmishes that periodically swept over Europe. Marzner himself had died in a fit of apoplexy and left his young widow a very wealthy woman. She was fair enough and her body was untouched by childbirth or fevers. Undoubtedly, Marzner had enjoyed his efforts in trying to carry on his name. But to no avail and now his name and wealth belonged to the naked woman bound over the bench. 'Well, his name for now' mused Frieda, 'and what wealth I leave behind!'

"And so, Widow Marzner...long have I dreamt of this...having you as you have had me...naked and hapless...mine to enjoy...mine to explore and touch...to penetrate and fondle..." Frieda's fingers were at her clothing, slowing and sensuously removing them, running her hands over her body as each part was unclothed.

Frieda walked around the woman and ran eyes over her. "But a moment...while I light more candles...the better to illuminate your secrets...the better to cast light on what I shall gaze upon...as you have gazed upon me..."

"Frieda, sweet Frieda...you have had your pleasures with me in my reduced state...now...release me and let me...please you properly...as one woman to another..."

"Oh, my lady...must you keep up in your wasted pleas...or must I thrust a gag into your mouth to protect my ears from your vexing whining? Trouble me not with your empty promises. Or I'll take a whip and carve my name upon your back..."The bound woman went silent and held her head low to the bench.

"Ahhh....such an improvement in your place, my lady," Frieda crooned as she ran hands up and down the oiled back. "Such fine skin you have...and such a shame to have it scarred...if you continue in your blitherings. I shall not warn you again, fair lady. Your silence is your life!"

Frieda rejoiced in the sensations of her hands caressing and massaging the skin under her fingers. Taking long moments, she ran hands over the woman's back and buttocks, thighs and vulva, shoulders and breasts. At her breasts, she tarried, running soft finger tips and cupping them, fondling them and lightly squeezing nipples. The woman's breasts were fuller than her own, well figured by her advanced age but still firm and ripe. She sighed as she fondled with passion, as if the breasts in her hands were a child's delight. Then she lowered her self and ran her own breasts up and down the woman's back, over her buttocks and down her thighs. Thrusting her held breast to the cleft before her, she moaned as her nipple traced over the woman's anus. 'Sweet Mother, this pleasures so...' she thought as she continued in her efforts.

Then with a well oiled finger she gently probed its depths, moving as if she wanted the woman's pleasuring and not her shame. 

'Go, girl...that ass belongs to you now. Fuck it with your finger...or whatever else is at hand.' 

"I wonder...could it be...could it possibly be?' she mused as she thought of the heat she would feel if she took the woman, willing or unwilling, up the mountain and over the peak, to see her falling in nature's passions after her body was wound up like a clock spring. 'Yes...I think I shall amuse myself with this study.'

Frieda eased her fingers under the woman's vulva and softly stoked her lips. Never had anyone softly stroked hers, other than herself and she proceeded as she would want to be pleasured. The oil on her hands made the woman's vulva easy to move against and Frieda continued to keep one finger in the woman's other place. 

The touching of the woman in such intimate sexual fashion soon had Frieda feeling a rising warmth that slowly filled her with the desires of Venus. Resisting the urge to commit one hand to self pleasuring, she concentrated upon taking the woman up and up the mount. It was minutes but Frieda thrilled to feel the woman start to move and help herself to climb. She eased two fingers into the moist and warm vagina and continued to move her hand. "So, my fine lady, how feels it to have my fingers...fuck in you...in such fashion?"

Frieda had never said that word, except in the very throws of carnal passion. Now she said it easily and it felt the word to use. 'Yes...I fuck the woman,' she thought. 'I fuck her vagina like I would fuck my own...and how she approves of my efforts...her twisting and pushes show a want of more...enough to take her to peaks and then some.'

"Does this please you, my lady?" Frieda asked, part in truth and part in scorn. "Do my touches have you seeking more...or do they repulse you and make your soul quake in indignation?" Frieda continues to pleasure the woman as she would have done to her self. "Come now, my lady...I must decide...to leave you to your peace...or continue this journey to pleasures...what say you, good lady?"

'I...I...yes, sweet Frieda...I want to...continue...in this...I would die if you were to...stop this journey to pleasures...I would die...go on, sweet Frieda...please...go on..."

"Then I shall, sweet lady...I shall..." murmured Frieda and continue she did. 

Frieda was straddling the bench, close behind the woman and she felt the urge to self pleasure. 'But my hands are thus occupied, in the task I have set myself...how then may I also enjoy this debauch?' she mused. 'Ahh! Yes!' as she eyed the rod. Taking her one hand from the woman's vulva, she reached to take up the rod and she put it on the bench under her. 

"Ummm..."she murmured as she felt it press to her as she rocked upon it. 'This will do its duty,' she thought, 'and I too shall partake of this climb.' She felt the rod pressing to her clitoris and with cunning and subtle movements, Frieda was awash in shuddering pleasures. She returned her hand to the woman's vulva, who eased her body up to accept. In went the two fingers and Frieda returned to her duty of bringing the woman to her peak.

"Don't forget your own, Frieda, sweetheart. Never forget your own.'

'Such wonderment,' thought Frieda. 'I thrill as much to the touching of her as I thrill to my own pleasuring. Despite her cruel treatments, now that I have her hapless as she had me...it's so much a difference, so much of a want...and so much of a rising heat it causes...'

She slowly rocked herself on the rod, images of it being a young man's sex, filling her mind. She stroked her wet fingers in and out of the woman's vagina, wanting to see a man thrusting his turgid sex organ in its place. She closed her eyes and imagined that organ under her, impaling her to her tortured soul as she rocked it, feeling it move in her, stretching and filling her vagina until she cried out and took the pulses of his seed. 'Soon...soon...' she told herself. 'Soon I will be away and free to catch the fancy of a young man, full of youthful zest and passion, possessed of a sex tool to fulfill my every carnal desire...'

Her thoughts returned to her present situation. The woman, bound by hands and feet to the rings at the base of the bench, was moving more forcefully, her loins seeking deeper touch and more forceful rubbing. Frieda was awed at her wetness. In her own dark bed chamber she had felt her self wetting as she played her own violin, but this! This was a flow she had never experienced.