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Mrs. Lacy

By: Mark_Ilaan



Only six o'clock and the day was already hot. I drove in another nail, keeping my mind on the goal. That goal was to finish before she came out of the house. This was my third day on the project and the routine was always the same. She would come out and tease me senseless.

She asked me to build a shed. The lady was the boss, so I agreed to build a shed for her. When I decided to do the job, though, I had no idea what kind of torture I'd be in for. I decided to finish the damned thing today, even if it killed me.

By seven, I'd taken my shirt off. It was going to be a scorcher if the weather man was to be believed. By eight, I was trying to create enough spit to wash the dust out of my mouth. My water jug was empty. 

After another narrow miss of my thumb with the hammer, I stopped to wipe the sweat from my face. That's when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. It was a curtain in the window, moving just enough to let me know she was there, watching me. 

Just great. Today was going to be the same as the last two. Well, I wasn't in the mood for it. Mrs. Lacy had better watch her backside, if she knew what was good for her. 

By nine she was moving throughout the house. I heard the central air kick in, felt the blast of hot air coming from the exhaust. She was inside, probably wearing one of those skimpy nighties she liked to parade before the windows in. She was cool and comfortable while I was out in the yard, slaving away. 

I looked up in time to see her sashay by the French doors that opened to the back yard. The woman was shameless in her filmy negligee. I saw the smile she flashed me with those painted lips. 

To add to my discomfort, a throb started in my jeans. I did my best to ignore the situation as I picked up the first piece of siding to nail in place. I didn't want to look, but like a trained dog I turned my head to see her watching me from the doors. I swear I could see the color of her nipples through the pale cloth. 

She knew exactly what she was doing. The woman was enjoying the effect she was having on me. I swiped at a whining mosquito and returned to my job. There was no way I was going to look at her again. I'd learned my lesson about married women. They were always starved for attention. 

I didn't know what she did after that and I didn't care. As far as I was concerned, the sooner the job was finished the better.

An hour later, she sauntered into the back yard. I could hear her; Christ, I could even smell her when she came outside. Keeping my back to her, I kept swinging my hammer.

"You look thirsty," she crooned.

"I'm good," I muttered. I didn't stop working.

"I made you some lemonade," she said in that sultry voice of hers. "I squeezed the lemons myself. You can stop long enough to wet your whistle."

"You're the boss," I told her. 

I laid my hammer down and turned to look at her. That was a mistake. I know my jaw fell open when she slipped the glass into my hand. Her fingers grazed my wrist, sending a jolt through me. 

The woman was living recklessly. She stood in front of me dressed in the skimpiest bikini I'd ever seen. The top barely covered her nipples, let alone the large globes of her firm tits. I almost dropped the glass.

"Drink up," she said.

It was all I could do to pull my eyes away from all that flesh, but I had to do it. I felt like a pubescent kid who got caught staring at his buddy's older sister through the bathroom window. The tart drink did little to cool the excess heat she was causing. 

I set the glass on a sawhorse and moved to the other side of the shed frame. I needed to put some distance between us. From this vantage point, though, I could still see everything she was doing. Through the framed windows, I could see her sneaking looks at me.

She took a drink from her own glass. A small amount dribbled from the corner of her mouth to land on her left boob. I wasn't so far away that I couldn't see how the little rivulet rolled down into the valley of her cleavage, heading south. 

My eyes followed the path the lemonade was taking. My gaze wandered lower, taking in the way her ribs tapered to her small waist and the curves of her hips. She was wearing a thin skirt over her bottom half. It was slung low on her hips and ended at the tops of her thighs. The way the thing looked on her, she may as well have been naked. 

When I looked up again she smiled, obviously enjoying the attention she was getting. I tried to ignore her and return to my job, but I kept stealing glances at her. She was unfolding a lounger, positioning it in the sun. 

Once she was satisfied, she slipped off her sandals and made a big show of untying the little skirt. It fell away to reveal a postage stamp-sized piece of cloth that covered a little of her obviously shaved mound. Thin straps held it in place, wrapping around and disappearing behind her hips. 

I should have turned away at that point, but like a kid in a candy store, I had to look. She turned around just then, giving me a full view of one of the best asses I'd ever seen. She was wearing a thong. The bulge in my jeans doubled in size. 

With another tempting smile back in my direction, she laid face-down on the lounger. Her hand reached to untie the strap at her back. For all practical purposes the woman was naked. The day was growing hotter by the minute.

My tongue felt as swollen as my dick. I needed to cool down and my drink was on the other side of the shed near her. Decision-making was never my strong suit. I needed that drink and right then. Moving as quietly as my boots would let me, I reached for my glass when she glanced back at me again. 

"Put lotion on my back?" she asked.

I just stood there like an idiot. Her shapely ass was right there, waiting to be swatted. Her golden skin begged to be handled. She knew what she was doing to me and she kept pushing the envelope. I had a strong urge to spank her there and then. 

Extending her arm, she held out a bottle of lotion. The sun glinted off her diamond wedding band, nearly blinding me. 

"I got a job to do, lady," I told her. 

"Would you prefer to do the front?"

She rolled onto her back, giving me a bird's eye view of those luscious tits. I'd had enough. I snatched her off the lounger, throwing her across my shoulder. She let out a squeal so I popped her on the ass. All her struggles didn't slow me down as I stalked for the back door of the house. 

Once inside, I plopped her down on the dining table, perhaps a bit less gently than she might have been used to. She was trying to get her blond hair out of her eyes, working herself into a fit of indignant righteousness, but I was already reaching for the scrap of cloth that covered her pussy. It didn't take much to tear the tiny bikini from her flesh.

I grabbed her wrists when she tried to cover herself, pinning them in one hand while forcing her thighs apart with the other and my knee. She let out another squeal, trying in vain to get herself free.

"Think it's pretty funny to tease the handyman, huh?" I growled. "I'm going to teach you what happens to slutty housewives who like to play games."

"Please..." she whined, but I didn't have any sympathy for her.

I drilled the middle finger of my right hand into her pussy. She was already wet, lubed with her own juices, waiting for my cock. I heard her moan, felt her body draw tight as a bow string. Enough foreplay, I decided.

Flipping her over, I pinned her hands at the small of her back. It didn't take long to get my jeans open and free my cock. Like a guided missile, it found its target when I slammed it forward. She screamed, cursed at me using words that would make a sailor blush. I only heard half of what she was saying. The pounding of blood in my ears drowned her out, for the most part.

"You call that fucking, you asshole?" she screamed.

Letting go of her hands, I grabbed her hips and really hammered into her. With her hands free, she was able to brace herself against the table and return as good as she got. 

"Fuck me," she yelled. 

I could feel my balls tighten. There was no way to stop the explosion that was boiling up inside them. At the moment I decided to let it go, she screamed again, her body convulsing, shaking as the muscles in her pussy got a strangle-hold on my prick. I'd never known a woman to cum so hard. 

A second later, my balls erupted, a flood of hot jizz filling her wet pussy. I bucked two or three more times, growling like a wild animal. When I was completely drained, I fell forward on her back. I could hear her gasping for breath, moaning in protest when I shifted and my cock fell out of her pussy with a pop. 

"You okay, Mrs. Lacy?" I asked when I got my breath back.

"Yes," she whispered. "You think you'll ever get that shed done, Mr. Lacy?"

"Not with a horny wife to keep happy," I laughed. "You ever going to stop teasing me long enough to do it?"

"No," she moaned. "Take me to bed, will ya?"

"A handyman's work is never done," I said, helping her up from the table. "I'll work on the shed tomorrow."

Mrs Lacy the Naughty Mum



This is a cuckold story, with a fair bit of lactation thrown in.

* * *

Rick knocked on the door. He quickly looked around to see who might be looking at him and didn't notice anyone on the street. He was anxious for Mrs Lacy to open the door. He'd been thinking about her pretty much all day.

Finally he heard hurried footsteps coming to the door, then the door being unlocked. It opened and he finally got to look at his goddess again. Mrs Lacy was only about 35 he thought. He looked at her, dressed in sheer black hold-up stockings, black pumps, black, lacy knickers that he knew were G-string style, as he'd never seen her in any other style, a sheer, short, black robe and finally, her two enormous treasures were barely held in by a black, lacy, 44EE cup demi-bra, that just barely covered her nipples, leaving part of her areolas in view. She'd obviously been waiting for him.

She'd moved to the neighbourhood about 6 months ago, already 8 months pregnant. Rick lived down the street, and had seen the moving trucks.

Rick had met her one day a few weeks ago, he'd been driving home from University classes when he had seen her struggling with some shopping bags while trying to hold on to her new baby daughter, so he had pulled his car over and got out to help. He'd learned she'd gotten quite lonely. Her husband was quite a bit older than her, and they'd moved here so it was safer for her as he had started a new job that had him travelling all the time.

They'd gotten talking and he'd immediately sensed her loneliness. Later, when her daughter started crying she had excused herself to go and get her from her crib. When she returned, she absentmindedly started to feed her daughter and Rick's jaw had dropped. She was so used to being home alone she simply hadn't realised. She unbuttoned her blouse and opened the flap of her maternity bra. Rick had been mesmerised by the creamy, white tit flesh underneath, broken only by the dark pink, thick, prominent nipple. He snapped out of it as quick as he could, knowing that it wasn't 'proper' to be caught staring at her tit. It was soon covered by her daughter's mouth anyway. By the time she'd looked back up he was pretty composed, but she did look at him a bit strangely, and he'd seen her look down at the prominent tent his hard cock created. It was only then she realised what she'd done and tried to apologise, but Rick assured her it was fine.

About 10 minutes later she'd excused herself to put her daughter in her crib and told Rick to go make himself comfortable on the couch. When she came back, she hadn't bothered to put her tits back in her maternity bra, and Rick's cock managed to get even harder. She'd sank to her knees in front of him on the couch, ripped open his jeans, and given Rick the most fantastic blow job he'd ever had. Her lips were soft and the suction was incredible. Her tongue worked the underside of his shaft fanatically and it had taken him very long at all before he was firing a load down her throat.

That was about three weeks ago.

Rick walked through the door with a hungry look, kicking the door closed behind him, while a dirty, sexy grin spread across Kathryn Lacy's face. Part of Kathryn had always known she'd married her husband not out of love, but for the security she'd known he could provide. The day she had met Rick though, she'd found lust, and possibly love.

Rick leaned down and mashed his mouth against Mrs Lacy's, while he reached down and around her to grab both luscious arse cheeks with his hands, confirming that her panties were in that delicious up-the-arse-crack style. He gripped them hard, mauling them in his hands, and slipping his fingertips up to rub against her pussy-lips through her G-string.

Their tongues danced wildly, first in her mouth, then in his, sliding around the other. They darted back and forth out of each other's mouths, tickling the roof of each others mouth.

Their hands were busy groping one another. Kathryn had reached down and spanked Rick as hard as she could, and wrapped her arms around his chest and grabbed his shoulders. His hands roamed all over her arse, and up the small of her back, marvelling again at how a butt as big as hers could balloon out from her tiny little waist. He caressed her hips, running his hands down to the top of her stockings, then back up to her big luscious arse again.

As Kathryn felt him hold her arse again, she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and humping up and down against him, grinding her mound against his stomach. She could feel the tent in his trousers, and rested her pussy lips on it, grinding against it through her G-string and his pants.

Her massive tits pressed tightly between their bodies, and overflowed her bra. Her nipples felt rock hard, and she put a hand over one, rubbing it in to her palm, before squeezing and twisting it between her thumb and forefinger.

He broke their kiss to say, "You sexy little fucking bitch, I'm going to pound you into next week with my big fucking cock!"

"Oh that's it Rick baby, you can pound my pussy all day and all night! I'm gonna ride you until your cock dies of exhaustion!"

She ripped his shirt from his chest, the buttons flying all over. His hands worked her arse cheeks, kneading and groping them, while he slipped his fingertips deeper into the crack of her arse, playing with the thin strip of lacy material. He let one hand trail up her back, until it reached the clasp of her bra, and swiftly unhooked it, letting the demi-cup bra fall away, as she unthreaded her arms from it and the robe, letting both fall to the floor. Her breasts with their enormous, thick, leaking nipples were bared for his pleasure. He stuck his head into her cleavage, lifting her up with his firm grip on her arse. She pushed her breasts together around his head, feeling her full tits in her hands, overflowing through her fingers slightly. She could feel the pressure building, and knew she had to release some milk very soon.

"Rick baby, don't you want to suck on my big titties hmmm? I need to feed you or you'll waste away. That big, thick, thumping dick of yours needs its vitamins."

She pushed his head back from her cleavage and he carried her over to the couch, laying her down on her back. He quickly unsnapped his pants and reefed them down his legs, freeing his erection to bob up, tenting out his boxers, before he pulled them down too. He removed the rest of his clothes, leaving him naked with his towering fuck-stick bobbing before him and a hungry, frantic expression on his face. She looked up at him with a sultry look on her face, still wearing her G-string, stockings and pumps. He crawled between her splayed legs, laying down with his cock at the entrance to her slit. She pushed her right breast up toward him and he immediately took it between his lips and started sucking on it. She gushed into his mouth and he sucked down the sweet fluid.

He slid forward until his knob nudged her wet labia through her G-string. He quickly reached down and moved her panties aside and then pushed forward, slowly parting the lips enough to slip inside, eliciting a gasp from her. He puckered his lips around her nipple and sucked as hard as he could while slowly driving his dick into her love-canal. He felt the walls of her quim contract, trying to pump his member as she approached orgasm. The slow approach was best to start with during milking; it never failed to bring her off quickly. She came with a scream, her pussy fluttered its walls along his cock and he felt her squirt all over his shaft, slickening its length and even shooting out through the seal her lips made with the base of his shaft.

He slowly stirred her beaver with his fuck-stick, keeping it buried to the hilt, like it was a pot and he was a chef.

The flow of milk slowly died down, and he switched to her other teat, sucking it into his mouth completely and starting to pump his pole in and out of her quim. She was still in orgasmic bliss, but he could tell when she reached a new high, as she squirted again. She was so squelchy inside that the noise of his pumping was incredibly loud. He was forcing her juices out every time he pumped back inside.

She wrapped her legs around his back opening her flower even wider for him and then dug her heels into his arse, forcing him in as deep as he could go. He could feel her cervix against his knob, and he rubbed his head against it, forcing the head to tilt upwards, feeling great for both of them.

He blasted his first load right then, spraying it against the head of her cervix only to have it gush back out over the couch underneath her arse. His cock kicked with spasm after spasm, emptying his heavy balls, shooting all the spunk he had up against the walls of her muff.

Once he subsided he picked her up off the couch and carried her over to the wall by the stairs. Her bedroom was upstairs, but he couldn't wait. He pressed her up against the wall and pounded into her. He was still sucking hard on her nipple, though the flow was slowing. Her orgasm was finally subsiding, and she started trying to bounce up and down, but couldn't find enough grip, so she wailed, "Oh fuck Rick! Bedroom! Now!"

He carried her upstairs, still impaled on his prick. When he reached the bed he laid down with her on top of him. She wasted no time in starting to ride that fuck-stick for all she was worth. She started bouncing up and down, every now and then stopping with him fully impaled and just grinding around on him, stirring her pot, rubbing her G-spot against his shaft.

He looked at her big bouncing fun-bags. He'd always been a tit-man, and hers were tremendous. He craned his neck to feel them smacking him in the face and rubbing against his cheeks. She smiled down at him and lowered them down onto his face. He started licking them all over, collecting traces of milk that had escaped. Licking around the areolas he nipped at her teats, causing her to cry out in ecstasy. He rubbed his face all over her fuck-udders, poking her nipples against his closed eyelids. He grabbed them in his hands and caressed them, looking at how much tit-meat was left over even after his large handfuls.

He felt her convulse again, knowing she was having another orgasm, and that he was quickly reaching his own. "I want to blow my seed on your big, fat titties Mrs Lacy! I'm gonna shoot it all over those fuck-udders!"

She quickly hopped off and lay on her back while Rick climbed up to his knees and gripped his shaft tightly in his fist. He pumped it two times before he started erupting. The first shot missed and hit her neck and chin, and she scraped it up to put in her mouth. The next one sprayed across both tits, connecting them with a strand of spunk. He concentrated on her left knocker, completely coating it as he aimed and sprayed. The next shot went into her cleavage, coating the beautiful canyon with his seed. The next coated her right orb, just as the left had been coated. Finally he straddled her chest and laid his cock in her sweet canyon of cleavage. She pushed her tits together and he helped, creating a tight tunnel for him to slide his cock through. He rocked his hips back and forth, enjoying the tight, slippery ride. His jism was leaking out the top of her cleavage, slowly heading for her neck, giving her the sexiest pearl necklace he'd ever seen.

Finally spent, he lay down beside her, with his initial horniness and frustration excised, he felt great, but perhaps a little tired. He relaxed on the bed.

He may have dozed, but he was wide awake as soon as he felt Mrs Lacy's hand on his prick. She was gently caressing it, trying to bring it back to life. He looked at her smoking hot body, huge tits, meaty arse, skinny waist, big, cocksuckers lips. His body started pumping blood into his cock and it slowly rose in time with his heartbeat until it was pointing straight up, before falling over to hover above his stomach.

She smiled at him, "Ready to go again?"

"Fuck yeah." He rolled over, throwing one leg over hers, before fondling her big right tit which she had done a great job of cleaning with her hands and tongue. He licked at her nipple, getting it erect as well. His cock was now satisfactorily hard and he said, "I'm going to fuck you like the bitch in heat that you are." Then he rolled her onto her stomach and got on his knees behind her, pulling her up by the hips until she was on all fours.

She was still wearing her G-string panties, so he parted her arse cheeks with his hand and stuck his face into her arse crack, biting her panties with his teeth, he pulled them down over her arse and off over her heels. He positioned himself on his knees behind her, wasting no time in slipping his erection back inside her love-canal. He quickly built up speed, pounding his long, thick fuck-pole into the depths of her silky, sucking pussy. His balls flapped below his cock, knocking into her clit, sending little jolts of pleasure through her. Her perfect arse cheeks were bouncing into his abdomen and rippling with each hit. He had a firm grasp on her hips as he pulled her back onto his rod. Her nipples were grazing the sheets, which were soaked with her milk, the pleasure causing her to refill quickly. Rick leaned forward and moved his hands to her fun-bags, squeezing them hard, forcing more milk out. She was in such an orgasmic daze that she barely even responded.

She'd never been fucked this hard before, not even during gang-bangs in college. She couldn't imagine her husband trying to stick his little prick in her again. He'd been put off her during her pregnancy and barely touched her. Now she didn't want him near her body anymore. She grunted as Rick gave a particularly strong thrust and she pushed back to meet him.

Her marriage was over, she just hadn't thought of how to do it while keeping his money, or told Rick. She was also a little scared that he'd leave her. All rational thought left as Rick pushed his thumb against her puckered little rosebud of an anus. He'd lubed up with her milk then slowly pushed it inside. She screamed as she came again. She'd lost count after 5, their time apart had done wonders for her sex drive it seemed. Her limp-dicked husband had left on another week long business trip, so she could fuck Rick into exhaustion.

She didn't realise her husband was home until he dropped his suitcase. She looked over at the door and there stood her husband, his mouth hanging agape. She froze, staring into his eyes, though Rick obviously had no idea, he continued ploughing her sensitive pussy with his massive dong.

Her husband appeared to be completely stunned, she couldn't see what emotion dominated him at the moment be it betrayal, anger, sorrow, pain or some combination. His eyes moved to take in the full scene. Her enormous tits rippled back and forth in rhythm with Rick's pounding. Then his eyes moved back to her arse, with Rick hunched over her, forcing his huge cock down into her little quim.

Rick was taking her sudden lack of response as either a challenge or as a sign that she was cumming, because he stepped up his assault, using longer strokes and nearly withdrawing completely on the back-stroke. Her husband's eyes widened as he saw the size of the weapon that was attacking his wife's pussy.

Rick's assault upon her, coupled with the shame, excitement and release of being caught, combined to stir her body to new heights of pleasure, and she told Rick, "That's it big boy, slide that pussy-pleaser into my hot little box. Oh I've never had a dick this big Rick. You're so much bigger than my husband, and you can keep going forever." His eyes had darted back to hers and she stared back at him. He was a pathetic excuse for a man in the area it mattered most. She knew there was going to be a lot of trouble down the track, but right now all she cared about was the feeling of Rick filling her quim with his enormous erection, and humiliating her husband.

Rick started to cum again, his third time since he walked through the door. He fired a couple of spurts into her love box and she quickly crawled forward, taking a shot to her back before she spun around and grabbed Rick's dick. She aimed it toward her husband and the next shot arced at him, landing on his shoe. Rick saw the man standing there for the first time, quickly realising it must be Mr Lacy.

The man looked down at his foot, covered in the sperm of this stranger who was fucking his wife. His left arm was numb, and he had a growing tightness in his chest, but none of that mattered. He was going to ruin this woman, take his daughter away from her, and ensure she ended up living on the street. His humiliation was not finished yet though.

She started pumping Rick's cock, firing more shots at her husband. "Your little penis is never coming near me ever again. Rick's big dick is the only cock I'm ever going to need dearest. Look at how powerful it is." The excitement of the situation had sparked Rick's orgasm to new heights. The next spurt fired from his cock was the most impressive of his life, and managed to hit Mr Lacy in the face.

Rick watched as Mr Lacy clutched his chest and muttered, "Bitch... whore... slut... you'll get nothing... from me... keep your daughter... you'll... never see her... again... ah..." He collapsed to the floor. Mrs Lacy hadn't even looked at him after she'd started jacking Rick's cock. Even now she continued to do so, firing more spurts to land on the fallen man. Rick was sure he should do something, but he couldn't bring himself to stop her. The man had called Mrs Lacy some really bad names, and threatened some pretty mean things.

Mrs Lacy started sucking his cock as the spurts died down. He could feel that there was no way he was going soft right now. Her tongue worked the underside of his prick, lavishing it with saliva. He gripped her head and pumped his hips, fucking her face with forceful thrusts. Her lips were silky on his member, sliding up and down, caressing his cock.

He wanted to fuck her harder though, but didn't want to cause her pain by fucking her face with abandon, so he pulled her mouth off his cock and pushed her down flat on the bed, face down.

She knew what was coming, Rick really liked to pound her sometimes when he got really aroused, and she knew he had good reason to be right now. She looked down at her husband who seemed to have passed out when Rick fired his baby-batter at him. Her tits were pressed into the bed, like flat pancakes that spread out to the side. She could feel them leaking even now, wetting the bed beneath her, though the bed was already soaked in their various bodily fluids, mostly milk, jizz and her own juices.

Rick pushed Mrs Lacy's legs apart and pressed the head of his cock up against her wet labia. She was really horny, and he'd cum up her snatch earlier, leaving her as wet as ever. He pushed forward until the head slipped easily inside and her lips sucked tightly closed around his shaft, "Oh fuck Mrs Lacy, your box is so tight on my cock."

"That's because your cock is so fucking huge Rick. And from now on, you don't have to call me Mrs Lacy, my name is Kathryn or Kat, but you can call me whatever you want. Now pound me with your fuck-stick, hard!" Rick began to do just that. He started out with slow strokes, bottoming out in her pussy, pressing his knob up against her cervix, curving his knob upwards. He grabbed two big handfuls of her big, meaty arse, and used them as leverage to start really pounding into her quim. He looked down and watched as his cock sawed in and out of her, pulling the lips inside on the in-stroke, and blossoming them outwards on the out-stroke.

He'd never met anyone like Kat in his life. He was hoping they wouldn't have to stop now that her husband knew. He looked down at the man. He was probably dying, lying on the floor of his marital bedroom while Rick was on his marital bed drilling his wife more thoroughly than he ever could. The thought pushed him over the edge. He pulled his cock out of Kat's muff and started jerking it.




Mrs Lacy the Naughty Mum



Rick's balls had always refilled quickly, and this was no exception. The amount of jism he sprayed over Kat's back was better than most men's first orgasms for a session, but it was nothing unusual for him.

Kat slowly came back to her senses, realising what had occurred in the last few minutes. Then she began to panic, her husband knew she was cheating. He'd want a divorce and he'd leave her with nothing. On the other hand she'd be free to have Rick, but he couldn't support a family at his age. "Oh god Rick, what are we going to do?"

"Maybe we should check your husband; I think he was having a heart attack."

Her mind raced with possibilities. She quickly went to his side while Rick watched her tits jiggle back and forth. He decided they probably needed to stop fucking for now though. Kat couldn't find a pulse, and when she checked for breathing still found nothing. "Quick, help me get him on the bed and get his clothes off."

"Err... ok."

Once his clothes were off Kat had Rick roll him around in the bed. He got really confused when she smeared some of his cum on her husband's cock. "Ok, I think that's everything. Now you need to get out of here Rick, and don't leave anything behind, not clothes, not your phone, nothing.

Completely confused, he picked up all his stuff, dressed, and left. Later, he watched from his house as an ambulance showed up. They loaded Mr Lacy into the back and drove away. Not long after, a police car arrived, and about 10 minutes later Kat left with the police. He was anxious to know what had happened but he had to wait.

*

Six months later...

Life is good, Rick thought. Kat was bent over the arm of the couch in her living room, with her butt stuck up at an angle that let Rick's massive meat slide easily in and out of her quivering pussy. She wanted him to think of it as their living room, but he found it better to pretend they were still sneaking around.

He now lived with Kat in her house, and continued going to Uni every day he needed to, as well as working a part-time job at a service station. He thought back to how they ended up in their current situation.

Her husband, who he'd later learned was named Henry, had been aboard a flight that had to turn around due to problems with the plane. He'd tried to find another flight but the best was the next day, so he'd headed home, where he'd found them screwing like rabbits.

Kat had told Rick that she'd left her husband in her mind already anyway, but just hadn't thought of how to end it in the most beneficial way. He had suffered a massive heart attack when Rick shot his spunk over him, and though Rick thought he'd died, the paramedics had revived him and got him to hospital. Kat had really worried then, seeing the future in her mind with Rick come crashing down. Fortunately though, he had another heart attack in the hospital, and due to malfunctioning gear, no-one had helped him in time to save him. That's how Kat told it to him anyway.

The public story she told was that her husband had come home and they'd been wildly screwing and it had been too much for his heart. That was why she'd undressed him and daubed him with Rick's jizz. Kat had been worried for a while, because if anyone looked too closely at the evidence they'd be in trouble. The spunk all over the bedroom would not match her husband's DNA, and timing wise, he'd had the heart attack almost as soon as he walked in the door, which would be suspicious to anyone who may have been watching the house.

It had turned out that he had a big life insurance policy, and of course he'd not changed his will. Also, without any other relatives, the money had gone to Kat. She would never have to work, and by living thrifty, neither would he, but he'd decided to finish Uni and get a decent job. If he stayed home all the time he was sure he'd fucked to death by Kat.

At first he'd started coming over to help out the widow down the street, or at least that's what he told his folks. As he spent more time there though, he'd told his parents that he thought he was in love. He'd moved in a month ago, which had raised a few eyebrows in the neighbourhood, but his parents had been amicable, though he was sure they would prefer he was with someone younger and free of kids.

He gripped Kat's hips and really threw his hips into the pounding. He was cumming in seconds, and he allowed Kat to turn around and take his load on her chest, glazing both of her huge melons. Rick heard Kat's daughter, Mel, start crying as it was feeding time. Kat hurried upstairs to feed Mel while Rick moved to the couch, letting his spent, slimy member lower to his leg as it softened.

Once she finished feeding Mel, Kat came back and sat on the couch, while Rick laid his head in her lap to nurse at her teats. Mel could never consume all that Kat produced, and it would be time to wean her off soon anyway, so it was Rick's pleasure to empty Kat's udders after every feeding. It never failed to get their motors running, and while he sucked, Kat had one hand between her legs, and the other wrapped around Rick's shaft, slowly pumping it.

Life is good, Rick thought... 




Mrs. LaFave



Mrs. LaFave was a history teacher at my school. At 29, she was the youngest teacher at my school, and was well liked by everyone. Especially the guys. She was extremely beautiful, with long, straight brown hair and a very petite body. I had thought about her many times while masturbating. In fact, she was my number two jackoff fantasy, second only to one girl, which I will explain in a few moments. I had started writing seriously a year before, in eleventh grade, and a lot of my stories were history-based, including a series based during the Norman conquest of England. I had told her about them, and she was interested in reading them, so I would drop off a couple to her, and she'd read them. Once finished, she'd tell me what she liked or didn't like, where I'd made historical mistakes (I liked having accuracy in my stories), or things that just seemed stupid. During this time, I was going through the usual high school troubles. Paramount among these troubles (at least for me) was a girl I'd been head over heels for for quite some time. However, as is usually the case with a guy like me (the quiet, shy, scared of women kind), she either didn't know I existed or simply didn't give a shit. One day while talking to Mrs. LaFave about my latest story, I was particularly distraught. I had actually talked to the girl the night before, and the usual "Let's be friends" talk had occurred. Mrs. LaFave asked me what was wrong.

"It's just some personal stuff," I replied. 

"Something's pretty wrong," she said. "I can tell. And I'm worried. I think you should talk to someone." Apparently, I gave off the air that I was about to put the .303 my uncle had given me under my chin. I quickly realized she was thinking this.

"No!" I said upon realization. "No, it's not what you think. I mean, I had thought about that...but...no. It's not for me." A look of relief came upon her face. I sighed. "Ok. Here it is. There's this girl. You know her. Laura Rodgers, in your first period." She nodded. "Well, she and I have known each other for a while. At least ten years. I've had a huge crush on her for most of that time. I didn't tell her about it until recently, though. She's been kinda off and on about whether we will go out, and since I'm a pansy I just let it keep going on. Well, last night, I had the 'let's be friends' speech. I'm still kinda messed up about it."

"Oh. Well, there's plenty of girls out there, you know."

"Yeah, I know. It just seems that none of them are even remotely interested in me. I'm not some conceited jackoff who beats on his girlfriend and cheats on her, so they aren't interested."

"That's not what a woman wants," she said.

"Well, based upon everything I've seen, it is."

"Then you're not looking at the right girls." Neither of us said anything for a little while. I was standing next to her desk. She suddenly stood and moved towards me. Before I could say anything, her face was just in front of mine, and getting closer. I felt her lips meet mine. I kissed her for a few seconds, not quite realizing what was happening. When I did finally realize, I backed away, quickly.

"Wait..." I said. "This is wrong." I looked at her for a moment, and that was it. I went back to her and continued kissing her. We kissed passionately for a few minutes. Soon, I had her on her back behind her desk. I felt her reach her hand down to my crotch. I reached into her shirt and began to fondle her breasts. They were small, no larger than a small B-cup. I loved small breasts, and somehow, this got me even harder. I opened her shirt and exposed the light blue cups of her bra. I undid her bra (thankfully it was one of those front opening ones) and began to suck on her nipples. She moaned and began to undo my belt. I helped her, and soon, I was clad only in my underwear and my t-shirt. She pulled the t-shirt up and over my head. She slipped her hand into my underwear and began to stroke my hardon. I reached down and pulled on her pants, trying to get them down. She wriggled out of them, and I slipped my hand into her panties. Her pussy was smooth, except for a small patch of hair just above her lips. I slid my fingers between her lips and started to finger her. She moved her hips against my hand and squeezed my cock harder. She slid my underwear down, to expose my cock. I soon slid her panties down and got between her legs. I looked up at her. "I've never done this before," I told her.

"It's ok. I'll guide you through it." With that, she buried my face into her pussy. I began licking. She shuddered when I first touched my tongue to her. It tasted great, like nothing I'd ever had before. She was extremely wet, and I probed into her with my tongue, lapping it up. Soon she started to whine a little, and she started to grind her hips against my face. I fought for air as I continued licking. Soon she came, and I felt her juices running onto my face. 

After she stopped convulsing, she moved my head away. "That was great. You're sure you've never done this before?"

"No, I never have."

"You're a natural."

"Thank you," I said, blushing. She gently pushed me onto my back.

"Now it's your turn." She slowly started to kiss down to my crotch. Soon I felt her warm breath just above my cock. Then...

"Oh..." I moaned as she took me into her warm, wet mouth. This was the most amazing feeling. She took me all the way into her throat, then slid me all the way out, again. She did this several times, then started to kiss and lick along the shaft, down to my balls. She sucked on my balls for a little while, then went back up to my cock. She slipped me into her mouth again. I knew I wasn't going to last very long. Not with how incredible this felt. She seemed to sense this, because she soon started to suck even harder and faster. This was it. "Oh, God..." I started to tense. "Mrs. LaFave...I'm gonna..."

I began shooting my cum into her mouth. She continued to suck throughout the whole orgasm, swallowing every drop of my cum. Soon, I stopped spurting, and she licked me clean. She then came up to face level. "How was that?"

"It was incredible."

"Now do you believe me?"

"What?" I asked, unsure what she meant. 

"There are plenty of other girls out there."

"Oh. That. Yeah, I guess so."

"Good," she said, getting up and getting dressed. "You're gonna have to last longer next time."

"What do you mean?"

"Getting eaten out is great, but I want you in me next time. Understand?"

More to come...



Mrs Lake Makes an Exception



ONE

The director of magazine production Clem Giles watched Headlights also known as Claire walking towards him; some clown in pre-press production had given her that nickname. 

Watching them bounce unrestrained, he thought what an apt name and wondered if Claire even wanted those headlights checked for changes to freckles. Not only did she have the second-best set of headlights in the building but her legs also were only bettered by her boss, Nancy.

"Mrs Lake had an accident driving to work this morning, Mr Giles. The car is being repaired urgently. As she abhors traveling by public transport, especially being driven by garlic-eating cabdrivers; she wonders if she could travel home with you this evening and return to work with you in the morning? Her car was rammed up the ass so just requires a new tail thingy which will be fitted tomorrow sometime."

Certainly Claire. Tell Mrs Lake I exist to service her."

"I'll do no such thing, you wicked man, Mr Giles. That's Mr Lake's department, which reminds me: you must be the only male in the office who's not tried to grab these or hasn't asked me for a date; most going for both."

"What, grabbing both or both grabbing and asking for a date?"

"You can be so tiresome, Mr Giles. It's all laid out, waiting for you, and you never ask."

"Claire, I do believe I'm getting a flicker of understanding here. Are you suggesting..."

"My tits and orifices await you, Mr Giles. You have my cell phone number which I remind you each time we have this conversation, Thank you for being so gallant to my Mrs Lake and please don't stare obscenely at my ass as I walk away. I rate you better than these brainless dorks who inhabit this building."

Well, if it weren't for everyman and his dog plugging you Claire, I could be interested, thought Clem, staring obscenely at her swaying ass – definitely Number One in the office, and she and every other woman knew it. Some guys, of course, don't rate ass. 

Clem thought of dropping into the café and consuming a couple of garlic and onion sandwiches. The arrogant Mrs Lake was so toffee nosed she had her head almost up her own ass deserved nothing better – except Mrs Lake was his boss, being publisher of a stable of internationally circulating women's magazines branded as Lakeside Readers for Women. 

Within the company the mags were loosely known differently, even by some more relaxed females, after some clown in pre-press production began calling them Women's Monthlies. Ironically, one of the best sellers was titled Women's Humor. That was an all-female production because the editor had failed to find any male worker who could laugh at what was being produced, which says something – but what? 

There was mixed humor at the top of the tree: Crusty Mr Lake as President of Lakeside Publication Corporation was known internationally for his lack of humor whereas his third wife Nancy actually exhibited humor plus quite a lot more. 

Clem didn't see Headlights when she walked either towards or away from him – he just saw white as if his entire nervous system shut down to avoid him disgracing himself with an outburst of uncontrolled lust. Actually it was his reading glasses being coated in steam.

He used the red phone to direct call Her Highness.

"Hi, would 3:00 suit? I have a hairdresser coming."

"Yes."

Clunk, call terminated. She'd dealt with him surgically, able to tell it was Clem calling because only ten people in the entire building had red phone connection. He thought it was unlikely any of the other nine had any other connection with Mrs Lake.

Clem thought so the hairdresser calls on Mrs Lake, not the other way round, Being possessed with a filthy brain, apparently since birth, he wondered about spelling of the last word in her phrase 'a hairdresser coming'. That would depend on what they did. You've never made chief executive because of your gutter mind, he grinned in coddled self-chastisement.

He froze in a sudden burst of thought; Mrs Lake had thirteen female editors – all with access to company cars. She had oodles of skirts and dames in men's trousers in her own department and Headlights would be able to get had hands to the steering wheel okay, especially if she wore a bra. His mind worked four times quicker than the world's faster computer and then flashed the answer: Mrs Lake was 30 and Mr Lake was 62 – and age gap of 32. He was 46 which was exactly half way in age between the Lakes. This had to have some significance. He called Headlights.

"Hi, it took longer to call than I thought you would. I had you taped as a quick thinker. You want to know why you your were selected?"

Clem inexplicably pulled the receiver from his ear and looked at it. The caliber of some females in this building made him feel uneasy. But he found no comfort to this insecurity by looking at a piece of beautifully rendered molded composite material so placed it back against his ear to hear Headlights say, "Answer me, what is the question?"

Slash! The whip cut into his bared back and Headlights dressed in shiny black vinyl with a hole cut to reveal a beautifully decorated hairless pussy while up top those huge breasts were contained for whip-cracking duty by a steel harness. His mind jumped back to reality and he blurted, "Why me?"

"Simple, moron. Ooops, sorry Mr Giles. Mrs Lake asked me to name the most trustworthy male in the building and I could only nominate you. She asked why and I said you were the only male who'd not made a pass at me. She said "God, I must accelerate my program towards achieving an all-female payroll but was astounded when I said there were also some twenty women listed in my black book who'd made passes at me."

"And?"

"She said you are worthy of a position at the Vatican."

"But I'm Baptist."

"She probably meant as Ambassador for the Baptist Churches."

"Oh. That's all I wanted to knowm Claire dear."

"Fine, I was doing my nails. Remember to open the car door for her."

 TWO

At 3:00 Clem stood at attention outside the executive's elevator on the first level of the parking basement: the doors opened and Mrs Lake walked out proceeded by her perfume. The body, as usually, was encased in loose clothing designed to camouflage true shapes but it was a wasted effort insofar as Clem was concerned because he was able to mentally see right through it. Her tits weren't as large as Headlight's but their elasticity was under better tension so they hung higher and tended to swing either side together rather in opposite directions as Headlight's did and rather than big and bloated nipples Mrs Lake's were smaller and tilted upwards cutely.

Both women shaved, but wasn't that normal these days for women under 80?

"Clem, how lovely to see you again."

She didn't attempt to kiss him or even to shake his hand, the cold bitch. He bowed stiffly. She asked which car was his; he pointed to the yellow 2005 Porsche Boxster S, top down, that he'd had since new.

"Eeek, I can't go in that," she complained.

"I'll call you a cab."

"Oh God no, I'd rather go in that thing."

Clem appealed to Mrs Lake to be careful, that Mimi was sensitive. 

Nancy's mouth opened as if to say something scathing about naming a car but apparently remembered her good manners.

Clem opened the passenger door. She looked at the cramped seating space and swallowed. "You'll have to look away while I lever in; I'll display everything."

"Nope, I look: this is one of the reason rambunctious ageing males have sports cars."

"But you have a wife and two teenagers."

"Not any longer. Then now live in Spain with Geoffrey, a low level diplomat; Penny and Geo married last year."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Whatever for – without Penny I now have Mimi."

"Oh – you actually love you car?"

"Yes – but don't prejudge, wait until you see her exhibit personality."

"Excuse me, Clem, I may be younger than you but don't take me for a fool."

"There is a class of person, mostly male, who purchase vehicles from Porsche because every vehicle that car-maker produces is sexy with personality. You don't buy a car from a Porsche dealer – you buy a whole way of life."

"That sounds very romantic."

"Glad you understand. Now please flash those lovely legs at me, as high at you can."

"Clem!"

"Mrs Lake!"

"Oh very well; look as much as you wish but perhaps you better address me as Nancy. I must insist on that if you're seeing up my dress a bit."

"To your stocking tops at the very least, Nancy. Porsche designers are male."

"Oh God." 

They didn't discuss what Clem had seen. He folded into his seat with practiced ease.

"You did that elegantly. Young men though would be frustrated by this small cabin if they were with a frisky date."

"I wouldn't know but I believe the male designers have strengthened the hood with that in mind."

"You mean they do it on...oh God."

"Oh God," she sighed, seconds later when they'd reversed out of the parking space and turned a 180 in one movement and were slowing 50 yards away to wait for the barrier to open at the entrance before she'd barely managed to take her hand away from doing up her seat belt.

At little later she called nervously, "There's a truck coming my side – fast."

"Seen it," Clem said, stabbing the gas pedal and they were a good twenty yards along Indiana Boulevard before Nancy managed to reopen her eyes; she endeared herself to Clem by saying, "You're wonderful, Mimi."

Of course he had to spoil that when answering, "Do you know why you were chosen to drive me home?"

"Because everyone despises you but Claire thought I was dumb enough to be persuaded to be a gentleman?"

Clem could have kicked himself when she turned and he saw genuine pain in her eyes. "Am I not respected?"

He jumped to the rescue. "I have a stupid sense of humor, Mrs Lake-er Nancy."

"I'm pleased to hear that. I'm sure I'd been informed about discontent via Headlights."

Clem shot a quick look at her and her eyes were now twinkling humor. She'd let him on to a big secret: she knew Claire's nickname.

"Oh damn, there's Bronwyn's Deli," Nancy said, glancing across the road. "I'd meant to ask..." Clem had already checked in the mirror and ahead and slid Mimi round in a 180 and almost managed to slide into a parking space without having to maneuver into it at all. 

"Oh you stupid woman, watch what you say to Clem," she said, through the hand over her mouth as her stomach caught up with the direction they were now facing. 

"Just ask for Mrs Lake's order," she called to Clem as he trotted around the front of Mimi. "I'm thinking about really showing you leg."

Intrigued, Clem turned and went to her side of the car. "Why?"

"You're winding something up inside me. It's been a long time since I've been excited by anyone. Sexually I mean."

Mind-spinning, Clem smiled and wandered off to the deli, almost attempting to walk through the closed screen; he opened it and a big woman behind the counter, presumably Bronwyn, was holding up a white box tied with pink ribbon looking at him suspiciously. "I've never seen Mrs Lake in the company of a strange man before."

"I'm anything but strange, Bronwyn. Her car is broken."

"Cars don't break – at least Mercedes like hers don't."

"It got shoved up the ass this morning."

"That sounds like Claire taking; what's Claire's nickname."

Clem told her. 

"Claire always places Mrs Lake's orders with me and we meet when I supervise catering at Mrs Lake's special functions. Knowing that name tells me you work for Mrs Lake so I'm confident about you. Here you go – and drive Mrs Lake safely – I just saw you spin you car around like the village idiot."

Mini was turned leisurely back into the original direction of travel, much to the relief of Mrs Lake and to Bronwyn, who waved approvingly to Clem from her doorway.

Nancy was putting away her phone. "I've just cancelled my hairdresser. The greedy woman still wants to be paid, but it's worth doing it as I regard her as irreplaceable. You're having dinner with me."

"But..."

"Do you have a hearing difficulty?"

Picking up the in-car phone Clem pressed a pre-set number and switched to speaker. 

"Hi, Arnold Green. How may I assist?"

Clem replied, "Arnie, sorry but can't do 10-pin this evening. Get Harry."

"That dickhead. Okay. You've picked up a broad?"

"Yep."

"Do I know her?"

"She'd way out of your class, Arnie."

"You and your uppity airs. Describe her to me."

"Lovely black hair with the natural curls ironed out and pulled into a roll like a French nun."

"When did you ever bed a French nun?"

"Who's doing the description, Arnie?"

"Okay – but get to the interesting bits fast. I'm losing business talking to you."

"Face is okay but a bit of a mask because of too much make-up. Perfume is great, the kind that makes your nuts groan, "Oh yes. The tits, just can't wait to bury my face," Clem said, watching Nancy's bemused expression border on disgust.

"This sounds like a babe worth spending all night with."

"My thoughts exactly," Clem said, watching the corners of Nancy's mouth turn up. "She hides her body in unbecoming clothes, Arnie, but I reckon her belly is flat and firm and her pulsating thighs are sculptured classically and encased in mouth-watering stockings attached to dinky snaps on tapes from a garter belt."

"Pulsating thighs? My friend I have to go to whack myself off. Have a great night."

As far as Clem was concerned, this was Nancy's only chance – bite the bullet and get her night of excitement or raise the drawbridge and have his termination notice on his desk when he arrived at work next morning.

"Pulsating thighs?" she gasped.

Clem smiled and buried his foot as they were entering Highland Hills where her mansion was situated.

Mimi put on a virtuoso performance of a delicate balance of power to weight ratio. Responding to Clem's manipulative touch on steering, gear-changes and brake orchestrations as if they were one – a motorized ballet. Throughout the two-mile ascent of the Highland Hills Nancy's expressions changed from near terror to naked sublime adoration. Semi-conscious in a state of erotic hypertension, Nancy pointed to the only entrance-way on the left up-ahead and was thrust back into her seat as Mimi was set free and flashed up the curving sealed and tree lined track three times faster than Nancy believed possible. 

They snaked to a seat-belt tightening stop, only just avoiding being hurled through the 10-foot high double oak carved doors leading to the Grand Hall.

Clem leaned over to fuse their very first kiss. 

Nancy lifted away, a little reluctantly he thought, to whisper, "My thighs are pulsating. Thank you dear Mimi."

Clem was sipping Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label Brut NV as an aperitif and watching through the glass two peacocks crapping on the marble tiles when he heard a woman call, "Your bath is ready Mrs Lake."

The reply was interesting. "Eva, please being a complete change of clothes – casual – from my husband's dressing room, a disposable shaving kit, after shave and a bottle of Clicquot Yellow Label, then ask everyone to leave the house as soon as you have bought my guest to join me here in the sunroom."

"Yes, Mrs Lake. Good evening."

Clem was shown to the entrance to the sunroom and Eva immediately withdrew. He entered the room and his half proud cock lost it's shape in disappointment: rather that being found lounging in a half-open gown, Nancy was sprawled on the sun-loafer fully dressed. Clem's essential pendulum stiffened once again when she said, "Hi, I wasn't sure whether you wanted to find me nude or dressed – my conservatism won."

"Thank you, thank you. I adore unwrapping delectables."

"Delectables," Nancy said weakly. "I really don't deserve this; I'm in paradise."

She came to him. They kissed and he unzipped her and removed that abomination she probably called a dress. Nancy stood, well-balanced on her 5-inch heels, rosy red bra pushed to almost bursting point, matching garter belt and panties and sheer stockings with lace tops in light fawn. He circled her, three-feet out, like an abattoir meat inspector eying a carcass on the hooks. She asked what was he doing and he explained, but using words she'd want to hear: "Circling, drinking in the perfumes and sights of your heavenly body and wondering how it is possible that I'm so lucky."

"You haven't gotten anything yet."

"Does it matter? What I have seen will suffice me for eternity."

"Then let's go down to dinner now."

"Er, I wouldn't rush it. I could be interesting in becoming familiar with the delectable flesh."

"Oh Clem" Nancy cried thrusting her groin into his. "Take me!"

"What, to dinner?"

That perverted sense of humor had the desired effect. She hammered his chest with her fists, bit into his shoulder and shuddered into her first orgasm. "Oh Clem," she wept. "You know how to deal with a woman."

Clem swept her into his arms and heading away from the bathroom carried her to the indoor swimming pool.

"Most of my weight appears to be held by your erection," she murmured. She was such a lovely woman, not at all like the image projected, he thought.

Steps led into the pool. He dropped her on to her feet on the landing covered by a few inches of water; she didn't complain. Gently to avoid scratching her white satin skin Clem unclipped her stockings and pulled them down into the water and removed them, throwing them away from the pool. She was unzipping him as he removed the flimsy garter belt, desperate to inhale her odors but he kept upright to allow her to start working on his cock. The moment to scent her richness was gone as she leant forward to lick his tip and to slowly work around the head.

"You're big."

He swelled with pride and she said, "Even bigger now. Oh, what a beauty."

Well, if she saw beauty in a male dick that was fine by him. Didn't they say 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder? She was eyeing it and holding it. 

Nancy bending low because he was standing two steps below her meant her bra hooks were really handily placed to unhook – not that was ever a problem; over the years he'd known himself to go to acrobatic extremes to get the little blighters undone to begin a tweak-lick-suck routine.

She worked with energetic enthusiasm, unusual for a corporation senior executive in any role he thought, so he left her unmolested until his knees buckled a little and a deep groan was torn from his mouth. Nancy pulled away and directed his load over her swaying tits.

She grinned at him and challenged: "Lick me clean."

Clem knew he had choices: Say no, that's girl's work or alternatively suck up the stuff that to him tasted like salted and overcooked leek soup that would hopefully propel her into unrestrained sexual lust. He winced as he vacuumed up soup; he straightened and kissed her. Obviously she was well-trained because her open mouth met his and her tongue snaked into his and scooped out some of the deposit. 

They picked up speed doing this, staring at each other with eyes only an inch apart when making the transfer, their bodies growing hot.

Finally, 'That's enough, fuck me."

"What, no working your cunt?"

"Are you deaf? I'm leaking like a tap."

Clem braced his feet and lifted her. Nancy slung her arms round his neck and as she was lifted anchored around his waist, ready to be lowered, Clem could feel the big tits squashed between them partly trying to escape to freedom under his armpits; he'd deal with those lovelies later. 

Nancy was lowered and Clem pulled his butt away until he judged she was at the right distance; he could feel her dripping on to him. Oh boy! Once confident he was at the entrance he sent his butt forward, the shock emptying her lungs as he drove all the way, not too roughly, until their groins slammed together.




Mrs Lake Makes an Exception



"Jesus," she huffed. "Is that a cock or a street pole?"

Don't I love this woman, Clem gloated, hoping her private thoughts had her mind spinning erotically. He wanted that to happen and now would work to try to induce her mind to soar. He whispered things into her ear that came easy because the truth came easily: "You are a maturing lovely coming into early prime. I can't believe I've got this far with you, it's venturing into Untouchableland. God you are so tight. I adore your body; you have so much that is mind-blowing. Fucking you had thrown me into my wildest dream."

She groaned and shuddered against him with several tiny thrusts, urging him not to stop, to go faster. He hit the straps and she clung to him, head thrown back and crying repeatedly "Oh my."

Clem felt his balls tighten and cock thicken, and probably so did she. Earlier she'd said there was no need for a condom so he assumed he was also free to ejaculate in deep. He crashed against her the best he could in this awkward position, legs almost giving out on him. 

Nancy was now ripping at his back with her nails while still managing to hold on, crying "Fuck me, fuck me." 

Just as he was wondering what the fuck did she think he was doing he exploded and she shrieked. He was ready to drop her down safety when she shrieked again and her eyes rolled into their sockets; he knew she was in full ejaculation and something told him she didn't have many of those.

Nancy collapsed against him, deflated so calling on reserves of strength he backed down the steps until he could float off with her, his head still spinning but his vision returning near enough to normal. He was whacked; pleased they weren't in the deep end of the pool as he may have had to set her free to save himself.

Groaning extravagantly, Nancy bit his ear and whispered, "That is perhaps the best fuck I've ever had; it's difficult remembering some of them."

Clem turned to walk them into deeper water. He looked at the end of the pool – straight into the eyes of Mr Lake who raised his whisky glass impassively.

"Christ, it's your husband," Clem whispered hoarsely. 

"That doesn't surprise me darling."

She called to her husband, "This doesn't even make us even, Hamilton. You have been doing this sort of thing with Claire for at least two months; I've watched the security tapes,"

"So you won't mind if I ceased being so secretive with Claire?"

"No, provided you allow me freedom to move."

"Agreed; get dressed your two and join me for a drink."

THREE

Clem arrived at his desk next day to find an envelope from the director of Human Resources advising he'd been terminated from his present position, effective immediately and was requested to pack his personal effects forthwith.

Why aren't I surprised, Clem yawned, still a little jaded after yesterday's frolicking in the mini pool bath then he and Hamilton Lake had made a big dent in the whisky bottle. Much to Clem's surprise the corporation president had been almost civil and shook his hand when he departed. There had been no opportunity to say goodnight to Nancy.

Just as Clem was finishing packing Headlights arrived with two security men. He was so dismayed at this humiliation of being escorted from the building despite being in senior management that he failed to notice Headlights' headlights, indicating just how upset he was.

Fellow staff in his department came forward to shake his hand; there had been a quick cash collection and he was handed two bottles of whisky and clapped as he left for the elevators. 

Headlights pressed the button to the top floor, turned and handed Clem an envelope. "These guys will take your possessions to your vehicle. All the best."

She kissed him and whispered, "Lucky boy."

Bitch, thought Clem, smiling at her; what a way to farewell someone she claimed to admire.

At his apartment Clem unloaded Mimi and unpacked. On top of the first box was the letter with enclosure Headlights had given him. The handwritten letter read:

Darling,

I have decided to make you Associate Publisher office will be next to Claire's. I trust your passport is up to date as you and I leave tomorrow night for a five-day publishers' conference in Geneva and then we'll have a week in Paris. Claire leaves her job today to become Hamilton's technical assistant. Enclosed you will find your new contract to peruse and a Platinum Card. You have my permission to use it to purchase some upmarket travel gear. Before we leave a midnight tomorrow, darling, I must ask you to lay me on Mimi and work me over. I tingle with the thought, wondering how many positions are possible on the hood of a car. You see, I'm not the strict and stuffy woman you thought, am I? Nancy.

THE END



Mrs Lamb



*************************

Copyright Oggbashan April 2005

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

*************************

It started when I was just 18 and although at university I was still living with my parents in a small village. As a teenager I had had the normal urges but in such a small place where everybody knew everyone else it was difficult to get more than a kiss and a cuddle from the local girls. They wanted commitment, eventually marriage, and knew too well how easy it was for them to lose their reputation. They would go a little way but then nothing would make them go further. I couldn't link up with women at the university because I had to catch the last bus to the village at 6 pm. Until I passed my driving test, got a car and could stay as long as I liked... I was frustrated as every normally-sexed man would be.

But I had my fantasies. I could dream of film stars, girl singers and the bra models in my mother's magazines. They helped but I wanted the real thing, not illusions on a screen, songs on the radio or pictures on a page.

However there was Mrs Lamb. She was flesh and blood. She was real. She was close. She was much older than me but seemed my ideal of the mature woman. How naive I was. This "older" woman was all of 25 years old but seemed so unattainable. Her husband had been killed in a farm accident 12 months earlier leaving her to produce a posthumous daughter who was six months old. Mrs Lamb was ideal fantasy material for my fevered imagination. She had natural blonde hair with a soft curl. She was slim but well developed in the right places. At the time she was slightly taller than me, even in her bare feet. I had a real case of puppy love for her. 

Mrs Lamb lived about 200 metres away down a farm lane. To get to the village she had to pass our house and I watched her push her pram nearly every day. She dressed simply but elegantly, always wearing a calf-length skirt, whatever the weather. The contrast with the other women of the village was stark. Most of them wore jeans or dungarees and looked ready to muck out a stable at a moment's notice. Even those who wore skirts had sensible stiff tweedy ones totally unlike her flowing hems that emphasised her graceful movements. Her winter skirts glided around her legs but her summer ones floated like gossamer. Even her old "gardening" skirts were clean and well ironed. But her real distinguishing item of dress was her headscarf. Apparently she had started collecting headscarves when she was a girl. She wore a different one every day. Some villagers joked that she had one for every day of the year. For all I know that was true because I never noticed her wear the same one twice. I recognised that her headscarves had an air that other women's didn't but it was much later before I realised that all of them were pure silk. 

To help to raise money for the eventual purchase of a car I was always willing to do odd jobs around the village which is how I got to know Mrs Lamb better. She'd ask me to get things for her from the village shop, to help her in her garden - little things like that. She was nice to be near and I adored her. I didn't think that she had noticed until the day her drains blocked. It was an unfortunate day for it to happen. The village cricket team was playing an important match and nearly everyone had gone to support them. There was no one around except me and the only reason I was there was some important course work that I'd been putting off. I wasn't that interested in cricket anyway. I'd just finished the final page when I heard Mrs Lamb' voice in the kitchen.

"Is anyone at home?" she called

"Yes, Mrs Lamb, but only me" I replied jumping from my chair and going towards the stairs. She looked up at me. My heart flipped. Here was my dream woman, in my house, smiling at me.

"Hello Tom. I'm sorry to disturb you but I've got a problem with my drains. Do you..."

I didn't let her finish. I knew about drains. Dad's drain rods were in the shed and had provided me with a useful income.

"Of course, Mrs Lamb" I said "I can sort out your drains. I'll just get the rods and I'll be with you in a couple of minutes."

"Thank you, Tom. I'll be ever so grateful."

Then I realised a snag. I was properly dressed, not in working clothes. If the drains were badly blocked I'd have to change. I didn't want to go to HER house in my mucky jeans and T-shirt so I hoped that the drains wouldn't be a real problem. If they were I'd have to change. I grabbed the work clothes and shoved them in a carrier bag. Collecting the rods, I followed Mrs Lamb's retreating figure down the farm lane. I watched the way her hips moved, her skirt swayed and her headscarf fluttered in the breeze ahead of me. It was no use. I was getting really excited. If I got too excited I'd have a problem concealing my growing erection. I tried to ignore the evidence of my eyes but...

When we reached the house the smell of drains was obvious. There was a large seepage across the farmyard. I'd have to change into my working clothes even if it meant that I wouldn't look my best.

"Mrs Lamb!" I called "Is there somewhere where I can change? I'll have to put some old clothes on."

"Certainly, Tom" she replied "You can change in the scullery." She showed me the small room leading off the kitchen. Apart from the door, there was a small high window with obscure glass. I slipped in, shut the door to the kitchen, and started to change. My erection slowed me down a bit but it didn't take long.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked through the door.

"Afterwards, perhaps" I replied nervously. A cup of tea with her would be fantastic - but not if I was covered in sewage!

As I came out into the kitchen I realised something I should have noticed before. The baby wasn't around. I'd rarely seen her without the baby. I was so startled that I blurted out...

"Where's the baby?"

"She's staying with mys this weekend. They've wanted to have her visit them but I didn't want her to go until she was easier to cope with. They're not old, but frequent feeding and nappy changes might have been a bit too much of a shock. She feeds regularly now and they've been practising with the disposable nappies I use..."

Even my brain took just a few seconds to make the connection. "disposable nappies" and "blocked drains" were an obvious cause and effect. I laughed.

She looked at me as if I'd gone stark staring mad. I spluttered before I could explain.

"That's the answer!" I said. "Disposable nappies mean blocked drains. Despite what the manufacturers say, you can't flush them down the toilet - at least not in the country."

"Oh. Is that so? I've been using them for a couple of months."

My heart sank. A couple of months! That would be a massive blockage.

"I'd better get started then."

I lifted the first manhole near the house. It was full of nappies. I lifted the next. So was that one. I lifted the third. That was too! By the fourth manhole I was nearly at the road but at last it was clear. I'd have to push all the nappies back up the pipe until all were gone. I fetched a wheelbarrow and shovel and started beside the house. When the first manhole was clear I started on the second. Then with the rods I pushed the blockage back to the first, cleared it again and so on. It took hours! I was sweating, mired to the knees in s**t, and going off the idea of babies. Finally I'd finished. I ran water down the pipes until they were absolutely clear. I'd been so busy that I hadn't noticed what Mrs Lamb had been up to. As long as she hadn't been flushing anything down those drains she could have flown around the farmyard on a broomstick and I wouldn't have been aware of it. I washed down the wheelbarrow, the shovel and the rods and slowly walked towards her house. I couldn't enter it now... not in the state I was in. I'd love a cup of tea but I stank. I reeked. My feet squelched in my trainers. My jeans stuck to my legs and even my T-shirt was stained. My heart sank. I may have helped my ideal woman, but she wouldn't want to come near me now!

There she was! She was smiling at me as if I was something beautiful instead of a smelly object a skunk would run a mile from. Despite the impact of her smile I noticed that she had changed something about her appearance. She was wearing three scarves, one round her head as normal, one loosely knotted around her neck, and a large one tied around her waist, over her skirt.

"Come round to the side door, Tom" she said. "There's a shower room just inside the door and you can clean up."

There was. A step inside and there was a fully tiled room, bath, shower and all. She turned away.

"See you in the kitchen in a few minutes. Just drop your clothes on the floor. I'll wash them for you." 

Then she was gone.

That shower was bliss. There was soap, shampoo, towels. I made a good job of cleaning myself, soaping all over three times and really rinsing myself free of that clinging odour. Then I panicked. No clothes! I'd left my other clothes in the scullery! Then I saw a man's dressing gown hanging on the door. I grabbed it as if it was a lifeline and wrapped it round me. I tiptoed through the house to the kitchen and there was the promised cup of tea ... scones, cream and cakes, and bread ... a full meal. At first I enjoyed that meal but then her presence began to affect me again and that dressing gown could barely conceal my excitement. 

We'd hardly spoken during the meal except when she offered me more to eat but as I finished I saw her looking quizzically at me.

"What am I going to do with you, Tom?" she asked "You've done a real man's work, and done it well. How can I repay you?"

My thoughts must have been transparent. I thought of one way she could repay me ... but to her I was only a boy.

"I see .. " she said slowly. I couldn't believe that she understood my need, my urge and my desire for her. 

She paused. "Today you've behaved like a man. It is only fair that I should reward you like a man. But..." She stopped for a while "... since you are so young, and probably impetuous, I'll have to take precautions."

I had lost her train of thought at that point. The only "precautions" I knew about were bought in the barber's shop in hushed tones and never used, given the local girls' unassailable virtue. What "precautions" could she mean?

She stood up. "Come here, Tom." she said. I stood too, wrapping that dressing gown as securely as I could. I walked round the table to her.

"Slide your arms out of the dressing gown sleeves" 

I did, trying to preserve my modesty.

"Cross your hands behind your back for me, please, Tom."

I did, wonderingly.

I felt her hands on my wrists and then the soft slither of one of her scarves. She wrapped the scarf around one wrist and tied it. It held my wrist like a caress. Then the scarf slipped over the other wrist and was wound over them both. Finally she tightened the scarf and my wrists were secured. I was scared. The dressing gown would slip off unless I was very careful.

"Come with me, Tom" 

She took me by the shoulder and led me upstairs and into her bedroom. There was the bed. I still didn't let myself believe that she was actually going to seduce me. I hoped, how I hoped, but it couldn't be true, could it? 

She pushed me to sit on to the bed. The dressing gown finally revealed what I had been trying to hide. She looked down at me. 

"I do believe you like me, Tom" she said. I nodded mutely.

"Well, we'll have to do something to reward you for all your work for someone you 'like', won't we."

She turned away and opened a drawer. She pulled out a cascade of her scarves. They made my erection almost too painful. Her scarves were so much a part of her that it seemed as if I was being admitted into her closest secrets. She advanced towards me with scarves trailing from her hands. The sound of them swishing together hypnotised me. She seemed to grow taller and more commanding.

"Lie down, Tom"

I had no doubt that this was an order. I lay down and swung my legs up. She flipped a shimmering blue scarf round my ankles and tied them together so quickly that I barely realised what she had done. Another scarf caressed my knees before grasping them firmly. I didn't know what to expect next and I opened my mouth to protest. That was a mistake. A wadded scarf was pushed deep into my mouth and held in place with another. I was gagged so effectively that little more than a faint mewing sound emerged. Then she sat down beside me on the bed.

"Tom?" she said as if she was talking to me in a perfectly normal conversation. I looked at her, this woman who had taken control of me and made me such a helpless captive. 

"I spoke to your parents this afternoon. They are staying away tonight, so I agreed to look after you. I told them what a great help you had been and I said that I would feed you tonight and tomorrow morning. So I will."

I didn't quite follow that. She would feed me? She already had fed me. What relieved me was that my parents were away. Even the village wouldn't gossip if Mrs Lamb was "looking after" their son. I hoped the village never knew what sort of "looking after" I was getting. 

Then my eyes nearly popped out. Mrs Lamb pulled away my dressing gown, leaving me stark naked except for her restraining scarves. She slowly undid the buttons on her blouse revealing a bra much more interesting than the bra ads I had studied so furtively. It was translucent, barely hiding a beautifully moulded pair of breasts. The bra was front-fastening. I hadn't realised that not all bras fastened at the back. Her nipples were prominent, surrounded with brown skin stippled with white drops. I'd never dreamt of lactating breasts. Of course I knew about "breast-feeding" and I knew that cows gave milk but these breasts were nothing like a cow's udders. They were beyond even my wildest fantasy.

"Well, Tom? Are you ready for feeding?"

She didn't mean...?

She did!

She unhooked her bra. Her breasts sprang out at my face. She loosened my gag, pulled it down round my neck and as she eased the wadded scarf out of my mouth she pushed a breast in. Even if I'd wanted to, she gave me no chance to protest or yell. A soft silk gag was replaced by a warm, soft, firm, dripping breast.

"Suck!" she murmured into my ear.

I sucked. I felt surrounded and controlled by her. There I was, naked on her bed, tied hand and foot with her silk scarves and gagged with her breast. My head was cradled in her arms and I couldn't see, smell, taste or feel anything but her. Her warm milk dribbled down my throat. I realised that I was being totally possessed by her. That thought triggered my erection into explosive action that nearly knocked me out with its intensity. The result was caught in a carefully positioned scarf.

After what seemed like hours of bliss the breast was replaced by the other and the cradling and cuddling continued. My erection returned as I felt her hands reaching under her skirt.

How she'd managed it I'll never know but her damp panties appeared as if by magic in front of my face. They wiped across my eyes and nose leaving an odour I'd never experienced before but one I'd like to smell again and again. Then they replaced her breast in my mouth, tied in by a scarf. I was gagged speechless again.

She lifted herself off the bed, refastened her bra over those succulent orbs, and re-buttoned her blouse.

"I'll be back shortly, Tom. I'll just make sure you stay where you are."

She looped a scarf through my bound ankles and tied it to the bottom rail of the bed. Then scarves under my armpits linked me to the head rail. Finally she pulled off the scarf she'd worn on her head all this time. She tied it on my head framing my face before knotting it behind my neck. Then she left me struggling feebly.

As I lay there I felt that I hadn't been bound but hugged by her scarves. They felt so sensuous against my bare skin. Although I couldn't move I didn't feel uncomfortable. The last scarf was scented just like her hair and she seemed to be still there, pressed to both sides of my face. I wondered what she would do next as I re-lived all she had done so far. My imagination hadn't dreamt of anything as fantastic as this reality. I was more in love with the real woman than I had ever been of the dream of her.

She was back soon, wearing just two scarves. One was worn as a sarong, the other as a halter holding her breasts. I was entranced but for one thing... the tea was making itself felt and I needed the toilet. It was so unromantic. There I was, on my goddess's bed, tied with her scarves and looking at her wonderful body yet my physical need was ruining the scene. How could I tell her? I was so effectively gagged that I couldn't make a sound. My hands were tied so firmly that I couldn't signal to her. My legs were bound together and I was stretched out on her bed unable to do more than a small wriggle.

She sat down beside me. Her hands stroked my face and then she slowly removed the scarf around my head. Then she loosened the gag and pulled her panties out. I gasped with relief but I was still too embarrassed to voice my need. Luckily for me she sensed that something was wrong.

"What's the problem, Tom? Haven't you enjoyed your reward so far?"

"Yes... but..." I couldn't say it. I blushed. 

"Of course" she said. "You need the toilet."

She was so matter of fact about it. She must have read my mind. My relief was obvious to her and I felt that her understanding was another proof of her perfect control of me. 

"Right!" she said briskly "We'll get you to the toilet."

She untied the scarves holding me to the bed, removed those binding my ankles and helped me to sit on the edge of the bed. Then she leant into me as she helped me to stand up. Her silk covered breasts pressed against my bare chest rousing me again even though the other need was urgent.

She held my arm as I hobbled knee-fast to the bathroom. Then she held my tool as I relieved myself gratefully. She even shook the last few drops off as if she had been doing this all her life. Then we shuffled back to the bedroom and she sat me back on the bed.

"I think that your urgent needs have been met now, Tom" she said "and we have time to take things more slowly. Lie down again."

I obeyed. She joined me on the bed. Had she forgotten to tie my ankles? It seemed unlikely. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Now we'll try the normal way when you are ready." 

From between her breasts she produced one of the unmentionable "precautions" that we boys endured intense embarrassment to get from the barbers. She tore the packet open.

"This is to protect me from getting pregnant. Have you ever used one?"

I shook my head reluctantly. I knew that I was admitting that I was a virgin but I think she knew.

"It has to be put on when you are erect. The first few times just putting it on is likely to take away the desire unless you know what you are doing. You can practise on a banana or cucumber." 

We both laughed at the thought of that sort of practising. It defused my tension and made me feel warm about her again. Her hand reached for my tool and stroked it gently. It rose as if she was a snake-charmer. While I watched her other hand opened the "precaution" and then both hands rolled it down the shaft. It didn't look or feel right. The flaccid teat on the end looked disgusting. Despite myself my tool began to shrink. She startled me by grabbing my chin and kissing me hard. Her tongue insinuated itself between my lips and tickled mine. Her arms clamped round me and I was kissed expertly and lovingly. Then she pulled an arm free to push her hand between her legs. She moved rhythmically beside me then her hand clasped my tool gently. Her hand was warm and wet. With her other arm and shoulder she rolled me on top of her. We were face to face as her legs twined around me. Her hand fed my tool inside her. Then that hand pulled my body up, thrusting me deep. Her legs clamped hard, holding me tight. Her arms held my shoulders and began to rock me rhythmically. My tool became my whole being. I, not it, was squeezed by her vagina. I, not it, was engulfed by her. I may have been on top, but I was not the one in control. I moved to her prompting. Soon, all too soon, I reached a crescendo and shuddered to a climax. 




Mrs. Lambert's Prison



Liam Johnson looked out of the Nurse Manager's office at the cows in the pasture. The window was half open, and Liam could smell the Sher-Rockee Mushroom farm, even though it was more than two miles away in the rolling Pennsylvania countryside. Brought up in Kennett, Chester County, Liam was used to it, but that didn't mean he liked it.

"How are you today, Liam?" said Mrs. Lambert as she walked into the office. 

Mrs. Anita Lambert, the Nurse Manager at Dawn Residential Care, smiled at Liam Johnson and sat down behind her desk. Liam smiled back; he liked Mrs. Lambert. In fact, Liam liked Mrs. Lambert a lot. He sat down opposite her in the plain metal chair, stealing a glance at her crossed legs visible under the open front of the desk. 

"I'm very well, Mrs. Lambert." 

Liam was careful to look Mrs. Lambert in the eye, not allowing his glance to rove over her trim physique. It was difficult. Mrs. Lambert looked like Eva Longoria, but with green eyes. Mrs. Lambert was thirty five, in terrific shape, and was dressed in a fitted white nurse uniform that showed off her figure. 

"Let me get your file, Liam."

Liam, deep down, was fighting a dangerous emotion, trying to shove it back where it came from, wanting no part of it. He was trying to stop a powerful infatuation with Mrs. Lambert from degenerating into that most annoying and shameful of emotions; love. Because Liam knew that love is for losers. 

Mrs. Lambert stood up and sashayed over to her filing cabinet. With her back to Liam, she bent right over and pulled out the bottom drawer while Liam's eyes feasted on her apple-shaped behind and long slender legs. He felt stirrings as his manhood started to perk up at the sight. Mrs. Lambert pulled out his file and stood up, turning back towards him.

"I've been so glad to have you back this summer, Liam. Things were difficult over the winter," she said, looking at him with her dark green eyes. 

"So, you'd like to stay on as an assistant here until you find something more permanent?"

Liam nodded. He had finished college that summer and had yet to find a permanent job. He was living with his parents a few miles from the facility, near Kennett, about thirty five miles west of Philadelphia. Moving back home had been difficult, but he had no other option.

On the desk sat a photo of Mr. Lambert. Mrs. Lambert's husband had been killed in Iraq four years earlier, and Mrs. Lambert had been inconsolable. Despite the passage of time and the attentions of many would-be suitors, Mrs. Lambert so far had refused all attempts to comfort her. But someone, sooner or later, had to be the first. Liam wanted to be that man, the one to act as the pressure valve for the massive pent-up sexual energy undoubtedly lurking within Mrs. Lambert. 

Liam knew he was at a disadvantage. He was only twenty two, and an employee. And Mrs. Lambert was a conscientious professional manager. But on the plus side, Liam was sure Mrs. Lambert was interested in him. Liam Johnson was tall and good-looking, with thick wavy black hair. He was also self-confident and, for twenty two, quite experienced with women. There was a moment of silence between them as Liam tried a long gaze into Mrs. Lambert's green eyes. Her eyes flashed back at him in amusement.

"Are preparations complete for the Halloween Ball, Liam?" she asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Lambert."

"Remember, Liam, the ball is for the residents. If the staff have fun, too, that's fine. But the residents must enjoy themselves. They come first. I'll be sending out a survey afterwards. Are we clear?'

"Yes, Mrs. Lambert."

"What is your costume this year, Liam?'

"My Dad and I dropped the ball, Mrs. Lambert. We left it too late for rentals so we're going home-made. Bedouin Arab; bed sheets, dishcloth keffiyeh for face cover, washcloths on the head, sunglasses."

"Will your parents be attending? They were very welcome last year. The residents like some outside company."

"No, Mam. They are going to the Rotary Halloween Party. Pauline Simpson's house."

A knock on the door interrupted them. He could see a fuzzy face through the frosted glass.

"Excuse me Liam, I have to talk to Mr. Steinmetz about the shift rotation." 

Mrs. Lambert stood up and walked around her desk to the door of her office. Liam couldn't take his eyes off her.

While she was gone, Liam glanced around at the Dawn promotional material adorning the walls of Mrs. Lambert's office. Pictures of happy couples grinning at the camera, depicting people in their sixties, seventies, eighties and beyond looked down at him. Liam noticed that the older the couples appeared, the happier and more ecstatic they looked. Liam knew old age did not work like this.

Mrs. Lambert was still outside in the corridor. Liam's eyes wandered around. He leaned over and inspected the photo of Mrs. Lambert's husband, in uniform and smiling, somewhere in the desert. 

"Please let her go, Mr. Lambert. She deserves to live," said Liam to the photo. 

Behind it on the desk was something Liam had not seen before, a small clay figurine with arms folded across its chest and a fierce expression on its bearded face. 

Mrs. Lambert's photo ID card was also on her desk. Liam picked it up. She looked beautiful even on her ID. He glanced up at the door. The conversation was still going on, and Liam could hear something of an argument.

Liam kissed Mrs. Lambert's image on her ID card, and then he shoved the card deep down into his shorts, rubbing it on his cock. The cold plastic just made him harder, already aroused by the proximity of Mrs. Lambert. Then he heard the conversation outside finish. He pulled out Mrs. Lambert's ID, hurriedly wiped it on his shorts, and replaced it on the desk where he had found it.

Mrs. Lambert re-entered her office, her face flushed and angry. For a moment Liam wondered if his stupid little trick had been detected. What had come over him? But she summoned up a smile.

"I'm sorry, Liam. Things are difficult at the moment. The Management is cutting costs and the wages we are offering to new hires are being reduced. I'm very worried we are getting the wrong sort of person. There has been too much bad behavior recently. I've caught staff in rooms having sex when they should be working. Even the residents have been misbehaving in public areas. I've had to speak to the Residents Committee. I can't understand it, everyone seems to be going mad." 

Mrs. Lambert's face reddened as her mind pictured the activities she had witnessed. They had aroused her, and now she felt shame and desolation at her solitary existence. Liam rightly guessed that it had been particularly hard for her to discipline such activities when that part of her life was empty. He looked at her in sympathy.

"I want you to report anything you see to me that is not up to our standards," said Mrs. Lambert, "I have asked the other experienced staff to do likewise."

"Of course, Mrs. Lambert. It's none of my business, but what's that?" asked Liam, gesturing to the figurine next to the photo to change the subject.

"It came back with my husband's effects. He got it over there. It's very old. I usually keep it in a drawer, but I brought it out for Halloween because it's creepy. Now, that's all. I have work to do. I appreciate your help, Liam," said Mrs. Lambert, dismissing him with a grateful look. 

Liam got up and as he left Mrs. Lambert thought she saw the signs of a bulge in Liam's shorts. After he had gone Mrs. Lambert picked up her ID and clipped it to her breast pocket. Then she frowned, unclipped it and held it up to her nose. It smelt of horny young man. She shut her eyes as a shudder went through her, long suppressed yearnings rising unbidden to her consciousness. As she imagined what might be with Liam, she started to become aroused. A moment later she felt an awful familiar coldness wash over her, and any thoughts of physical pleasure with Liam Johnson fled out of the window into the cold October morning. 

After the interview with Mrs. Lambert, Liam Johnson went for a smoke. He headed outside to recover from his erotic brain-attack. He needed to get her off his mind. Smoking was banned not only in the building but on the property. There are ways around this. On any given day staff sidle furtively outside to hide in the trees and bushes that surround the buildings, usually alone, sometimes in pairs. Occasionally the pairs might have something in mind other than smoking, although the opportunities for hookups were better indoors. 

With Halloween so close the days were getting chillier and today was unusually cold. The rear of the facility overlooked an exercise pool, now emptied for the winter. A large cafeteria with big picture windows overlooked the pool and landscaped grounds, so smokers had to hide behind a large cluster of rhododendrons to get their nicotine fix. The bushes were quite close to one side of the café and allowed a good view up-close of the happy diners without being seen. 

The tables were set in rows, right up to the window and a few residents were eating snacks and whatnot at the tables, but it was mid-morning so not busy. What Liam did see was two new staff, young guys, Cliff and Scott, find chairs at a table right next to the big wall of glass, facing out, hanging their coats on the back of their chairs as they did so. No-one was sat either side of them and their coats obscured any view from the cafeteria behind. Liam could see them from his position, hidden in the rhododendron. 

They set their trays down, a coffee and a soda, and pulled their chairs up to the table. With a quick glance to either side they unzipped their pants and pulled out their cocks. Cliff grasped Scott's cock in his left hand, while Scott grabbed hold of Cliff's in his right. Then they started jacking one another off right in front of Liam and within ten feet of the nearest diner, Bill, a retired army veteran sipping coffee and reading his newspaper. Cliff and Scott seemed to be having a race.

Liam was shocked. The sheer recklessness of the act in the cafeteria dismayed him. Mrs. Lambert was right. Liam felt a presence behind him.

"Wow," said Alice as she lit up next to Liam, observing the sex show in the cafeteria. 

Alice was another assistant out for a smoke. Alice was short, about Liam's age, with average looks and figure, but she was very sharp and Liam liked her. 

Liam knew Alice had designs on him, but he was holding out for Mrs. Lambert. Liam didn't want to completely burn his bridges with Alice, though, who was nice enough and available, so he nodded and smiled at her. 

They both watched the show as Scott and Cliff tugged one another under the table, faster and faster until they saw cum spurt out of Scott's dick onto his lap, some even hitting the underside of the table. Scott continued jerking Cliff and a minute later Cliff erupted, his cum dribbling down Scott's hand and dripping onto the floor. They passed one another paper napkins from the table dispenser, cleaned themselves up, and stuffed their cocks back into their pants. Scott handed Cliff a ten dollar bill. They left the cum-soaked napkins on the table.

"Laura's working the tables today. She's going to be pissed," said Alice.

Scott and Cliff finished their drinks, and got up to leave. Their break was over. As they walked past Bill, Liam thought he saw the old resident give them a look of disgust. Perhaps he had seen something, after all. Liam noticed Alice fiddle with herself down in her pants. She stopped when she saw him looking.

"Did that turn you on?" he asked.

"Yeah. Kinda," she said. "What about you?"

"Naw. I'm not into guys," said Liam, which was true. But the sheer obscenity of the act had given him a chubby. Alice had noticed.

"Looks like your dick is, though," said Alice leaning forward and stroking the bulge in his pants with one hand and taking a drag of her cigarette with the other.

"Alice, someone might come."

"Yeah. That someone might be you. Or do prefer watching boys to the touch of a real woman?"

Liam had no choice after a challenge like that. Alice kept on rubbing, sidling close to him so she could get a better grip. She took his silence for consent. He knew Alice would extract a price later, but Liam decided he might as well enjoy it. 

Alice stopped rubbing, undid his pants button, pulled down the zipper and pulled Liam's now fully erect cock out into the cold morning air, where it steamed gently. She spat on her hand and resumed jerking him, now moving around a little closer behind him, occasionally blowing smoke into his hair just to annoy him. Soon he was close to coming, enjoying this now, putting his worries about Alice aside. Alice was laughing, teasing. Just as he was about to come she said.

"Pretend I'm Cliff, if you want. If it helps." 

Just as she said that he came and a thick rope of sperm shot out of his cock over Alice's hand and onto the rhododendron leaves. Alice laughed and kept pulling, jerking him off as spurt after spurt shot over her hand, and his knees grew weak. Eventually when she had extracted all his goo, she let go his cock and wiped her hand on the grass. Then she extinguished her cigarette in one of the gobs of his sperm on the rhododendron bush, and turned to leave.

"Gotta go, Liam. Break's over, you owe me one. See ya." 

Liam watched her make her way back to the main building, stunned at what had just happened. He wondered what Alice would demand in return. But he had to remain focused on his main goal. Mrs. Lambert.

Two days later it was Halloween. Everything was set. The cafeteria had been turned into a mildly creepy ballroom, drinks and food were set out buffet-style and the residents were making their way slowly into the room. Liam had just finished discussing the last minute items with Mrs. Lambert who was standing next to him.

"Thanks for doing this, Liam. I will be in my office if you need me. Make sure things don't get out of hand and don't let the residents drink too much."

She gave Liam a smile and left for her office. As Liam looked around the room he could see the generation differences in costumes, the residents all wearing old zombie and vampire stuff, while the staff were all Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber. Liam's Arab outfit did not really fit in, but with his headcloth and shades on no-one could tell him apart from Al-Zawahiri and he could change in a moment. 

Liam spotted Bill, Chairman of the Residents Committee, who had been sitting close to Cliff and Scott in the cafeteria during their jerking competition. The old army vet was wearing a gas mask, camo top, camo pants, and he looked scary. He was in a wheelchair tonight, but Liam knew he could walk short distances.

Liam stood next to Alex, the pharmacy intern who was also running the evening. Alex and Liam got on well, and both were thoughtful and conscientious with the residents. But that didn't mean they could not have a good time. Not at all.

"Wow. We have a lot of Miley Cyrus's here tonight," said Liam, looking about.

"Yes," said Alex. "Pretty much a Miley for every taste. Skinny Miley, short Miley, tall Miley, asian Miley, and hood-rat Miley. Take your pick. I have my eyes on the tall Miley, Tanya, but I'm flexible."

Liam shook his head.

"Be my guest. I'm making a play for Mrs. Lambert tonight. Where's Alice?"

"She's wearing Kristen Stewart. Not so popular this year after the shabby way Kristen treated poor Rob. Over there, she's the short Kristen next to asian Miley. You've got no chance with Mrs. Lambert."

Short Kristen waved to Liam, who returned the wave.

"OK, let's get going. I'll make the announcements. Does Bill still want to play his little prank?" said Liam. Alex nodded.

"Well, I guess he is head of the Residents Committee."

They were in the center of the room, an excited crowd of residents and junior staff around them. They both took off their face covers. Taking the microphone, Liam welcomed everyone to the ball, and went through all the usual instructions. Now everyone had seen them for identification purposes, they put their face covers back on and Liam waved for the music to start.

Bill, dressed in his camo/gas mask sitting in his wheel chair, called Liam and Alex over.

"I need to go to the bathroom, lads," he said, loud enough so that everyone close could hear.

"No problem, Bill. We'll sort you out. Give me a hand, Liam," said Alex.

They wheeled Bill out of the ballroom, along the corridor, not to the bathroom but to an unused bedroom. There Liam and Bill swapped costumes. Then, fortified by extra painkillers and anti-inflammatories, not to mention Viagra, Bill wheeled Liam back to the ballroom helped by Alex and placed him in the same spot Bill had been. Then Bill made his way to the buffet while Liam sat and watched the room from the wheelchair, noting how different you get treated when you are old. The young staff members ignored him. 

Bill was holding onto the buffet table for support, drinking, while Alex (Justin Bieber) was chatting to two young Miley Cyruses. The plan was for Bill to keep quiet while Alex tried to set him up with someone asap. Liam was popular with the female staff, and both Liam and Alex wanted to see how far the ruse would get old Bill. It was just a bit of fun as far as Liam and Alex were concerned.

After chatting to Alex, two Mileys were approaching Old Bill in Liam's Arab guise when they were headed off by a short Kristen Stewart. Kristen spoke into the ear of Bill, who nodded and allowed Kristen to lead him by the hand out of the ballroom. 

Liam watched. Insofar as there was a plan, this was not it. The one person Liam did not want to mess with had been fooled by Bill. He waited nervously for the outcome. 

Five minutes later the door opened and Kristen Stewart re-entered the ballroom like she had been shot out of a cannon. She looked around the room, spotted Liam in Bill's suit, and came right over. Her costume was a bit of a mess. She stood over him as he sat in the wheelchair.

"You'll need one of these for real when I've finished with you," she said, gripping the chair tightly as she stooped down to talk in Liam's ear. "What the hell do you think you are playing at?"

"I'm sorry, Alice!" pleaded Liam, "I had no idea you were going to drag Bill off. What happened? Is Bill OK?"

"Yes, Bill is OK. He's very happy, in fact. But I'm covered in old-person cum thanks to you."

"That was quick."

"I barely touched him, thinking it was you of course, when he came all over me. Now he's gone to bed and my costume is ruined." 

"I'm so sorry Alice. I'll make it up to you. Where's my Arab costume? I'll change back and find you something clean, then we can have drink. I promise."

"It's on the chair in Bedroom 102. I'll show you."

Alice took the wheelchair, Liam mumbled something about going to bed to a couple of the residents, and she wheeled him out. A soon as they were out of the room Liam jumped up and Alice led him to the room. She shut the door. There was his costume in the corner. He went over to it. It was covered in cum too. He pulled off his gas mask and went to the closet find a clean sheet, but Alice put a hand on his arm.

"Not so fast. You have to make it up to me."

"How?"

"Look at me," said Alice, unbuttoning her soiled costume. Liam watched as she unpeeled the damp clothes and let them fall to the floor. Alice sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her pants, sitting there with her legs slightly apart, looking at Liam. Her pussy was dripping out goo, whitish dribbles running down the inside of her legs.

"I thought you said he came outside of you."

"And inside me, Liam. It was dark and he wouldn't let me put the light on. The old goat was too quick for me. He was done in thirty seconds. Now I want you to fix it."

"How do I do that? You know where the shower is," Liam said. 




Mrs. Lambert's Prison



He was transfixed by the sight of Alice's cum-covered unbuttoned shirt, which she was still wearing, and her glistening, beckoning, thighs and crotch matted with someone else's sperm.

"I want you to replace the old guy sperm with young guy sperm. Yours."

With that she leaned forward and pulled down Liam's camo pants, and the boxer shorts beneath. She left his T shirt on. He was already hard from the sight of her. Taking his erect dick in both hands, she pulled him gently forward until the tip was touching her belly. Then she shifted herself back from the edge of the bed and, as she leaned back, guided Liam's cock into her sloppy pussy. He had never been inside a woman right after another man, and for sheer abandoned erotic joy it was unmatched. As he moved deep into her he could feel Bills sperm being pushed out and wetting his balls as it ran down their legs.

"That's it. Get going," said Alice, as she ground herself against him, making sure he was as far inside her as he could go. 

Liam got going alright. He was mad with lust, the unexpected nature of the encounter boiling his brain in an erotic fever. He started fast, as Alice was warmed up for sure, and pounded her, thrusting again and again, bouncing the bed around. He moved a pillow behind her head to stop her banging against the wall, not that she seemed to mind. She was moaning and thrusting back against him, her legs entwined around his ass. The bed was groaning, and so were they.

"I'm going to come," Liam said after only a minute or two. 

"Fill me up with your sperm, honey. As much as you can," said Alice.

Talk like this pushed Liam over the edge. As he started to come, he stopped thrusting and grabbed her shoulders and ass firmly for leverage, ramming his cock as far up into her body as he possibly could get it and held it there. She groaned as he filled her up with a massive load, his cum jetting into her, washing down past his cock and chasing out old Bill's leavings. 

"Oh God," she moaned.

Liam suddenly felt her squirting against the base of his cock as she came, unable to control herself in her ecstasy. He held himself inside her for a long time as his dick slowly shrank. They were both swimming in cum and pee. Eventually he peeled off her and she lay back exhausted and dripping. He grabbed some towels from the closet and started to rub himself down, giving her two for herself.

"I need to get back," he said.

She nodded, not touching the towels.

"Liam," she said, looking at him and idly fingering the new sperm seeping out of her pussy as she spoke, "I know you're popular. I don't expect all your attention. But don't forget me. Just a little attention, now and again?"

"Of course, Alice. You bet." 

Liam found a fresh sheet in the closet for his Arab costume, and was back in business. He picked up his shades, his keffiyeh, and left, closing the door behind him, leaving Alice still playing with his sperm.

Liam made his way back to the ballroom, trying to get his head back together. He pushed open the door and surveyed the scene. He instantly realized that something was wrong. The music had switched to hip hop, the dancers, all of which were staff, were gyrating wildly. They seemed over-excited and the residents, mostly sitting round the room, looked bemused. As he surveyed the scene one of the Justin Biebers caught sight of him and came right over.

"Is that you, Liam? Where the hell have you been?" asked Alex, sounding very annoyed.

"I had to calm down Alice. Bill scored a homer on her. What's the matter with everyone?" he asked, looking around at the crowd.

"Someone spiked the punch," said Alex.

"Big deal. Someone spikes it every year." 

"Yeah, well this year those new assholes they hired have spiked it with cocaine, ecstasy, and oxycodone. Plus whatever else they had in their pockets."

"Shit! Well, get rid of it."

"I tried. Cliff and his buddies threatened me. I can't get near it."

"Have the residents drunk any?"

"No. I told them it was spiked with drugs. But, Liam, there's something else."

"What?"

"Your parents are here. Their party was cancelled -- Mrs. Simpson came back with Norovirus from a cruise. They 'popped in' here to say hello. Before I could stop them they both were swigging the punch. There's no alcohol in it, so it tastes fine. But your mom's starting to stagger. I don't know where your Dad is. Maybe he went to the bathroom. Oh, by the way, he's dressed as an Arab, too. He looks just like you."

Liam looked around, alarm starting to well up inside him. He spotted his mother dressed as a Turkish belly-dancer, or what passed for one in rural Pennsylvania. He could tell even from across the large room that she was impaired.

"Look," said Liam, "I'm going to put my Mom in a bedroom and hope she sleeps it off."

"Liam, I need your help here! Things are getting out of hand."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

Liam made his way around the dancing groups along the wall to his mother, who was gripping the table and looking around the room. Liam's mother's costume consisted of various see-through layers over a bikini top and harem pants. A yashmak and turban topped it off. It was pretty daring for a middle-aged woman but she could carry it off. She still had her figure.

"There you are Ronnie, where's Pauline?" said Liam's mother, her face lighting up.

Ronald was Liam's dad.

"Mom, it's me, Liam. You're not at Pauline's. You're here at Dawn Assisted Living with me. I don't know where Dad is."

Liam lifted his face covering, and his Mom's glazed eyes looked at him blinking.

"Mom, count to ten."

"Hee-hee."

"OK, you're out of here. Come with me." 

Liam took his mother by the arm and led her past the gyrating crowd, nodding to the residents who were becoming entranced by the show on the dance floor, and out into the corridor. Liam took some time to find a spare room well away from the ballroom. He opened the door and led his mother to the unmade bed, where she sat down unsteadily.

"Mom, I think you'd better lie down."

"I know why you've brought me here. It's been so long. Months and months. I can't wait. Here, let me."

Before he could stop her, his mother's hand felt in behind his costume and grasped Liam's cock through his boxers, which was the only thing he was wearing under the sheet. Her other hand found his balls. 

"Mom, no," said Liam, taking a step back and out of reach of his mother's grasp.

"Oh, why not?" said his mother hopelessly, and burst into tears. Liam was aghast. His mother really seemed unable to grasp that he was not his father. She was too far into a drug-induced delusion. His mother started sobbing loudly, deeply upset. Then she pulled herself together.

"Come on Ronnie," she said moving off the bed towards him. 

Liam Johnson had numerous erotic fantasies, but having sex with his mother was not one of them. It would be a disaster if this went any further. Then Liam had an idea. 

"I need some Viagra. There's some in the car; I just picked it up this morning. Let me go get it. Wait here. Don't go anywhere."

His mother's eyes lit up.

"If yore not back in five I'm coming to look for you...naked and singing...."

Liam left in a hurry.

Liam returned to the ballroom and entered the melee. It seemed much the same as when he left, at least no worse. A couple of the residents were even attempting granddad dancing, cheered on by their compatriots. He was relieved to see some staffers attending to the residents and chatting to them. He looked around desperately for Alex. One of the Justin Biebers strode up to Liam.

"Yes it's me," said Alex. "Now, listen up Johnson. You have to stay here and not run off again, I don't care what personal emergency you have. I need some time with tall Miley, it's my turn. So you are in charge. I don't know why, but the residents seem to be enjoying themselves. Watch out for tall Bieber, it's Cliff and he's nasty. Three of the newbies are passed out in the kitchen where I put them. Don't disturb them."

"Have you seen my father?"

"Yes. He reappeared and I spoke to him. He's pretty far gone. Your parents can't drive home. Oh, then he disappeared with one of the tall Mileys who led him off somewhere....."

"Shit. Listen Alex. I need a big favor. We have to swap costumes and you go to Room 301"

Liam explained the situation. Alex lifted his mask so that Liam could see his face.

"Are you serious, Liam? I could get into big trouble."

"Please, Alex. I promise. If my mother embarrasses herself by being naked and drunk in front of all these people it will destroy her. Keep the costume on and put out the light. Keep your mouth shut. Keep it short. Enjoy yourself, whatever. And don't tell anyone."

"Well...OK." 

They went into the kitchen area and swapped costumes. Alex left for Room 103 as a Bedouin Arab. Liam was relieved to be Justin Bieber. One of the Mileys, who watched Alex and Liam swap costumes, came up to Liam and lifted up her mask. It was Alice, showered and in a new costume.

"Liam, we need to talk. There's something funny going on. People are going crazy."

"Hi, Alice. Yeah, someone spiked the punch. I'm sorry about everything earlier."

"I forgive you. It was the best ever. You filled up my pussy so much it's still running down my legs even with a panty protector. But it's not just the punch, Liam. Look." 

Alice gestured to the other side of the room. Two elderly residents were clasped together in a clinch. 

"They didn't have any punch. Or booze. Don't you think we've all been sex crazy these last few days? It's a strange Halloween. Be careful, Liam," said Alice, touching him softly on the behind.

Liam left the ballroom and made for Mrs. Lambert's office.Liam was halfway there when he heard a shout.

"Liam!"

Liam paused and turned around. Old Bill, recently showered and in pajamas and dressing gown wheeled himself towards Liam along the corridor. His eyes shone brightly, but he was agitated.

"You could have gotten us both in a lot of trouble, Bill," said Liam.

"Liam, I owe you one. I'll make it right with Alice. But listen. There's something funny going on."

"I know."

"No. You don't know. Liam, I've never talked about what went on over there in Iraq before. To anyone."

"I haven't got time for war stories, Bill."

"Make time. Listen up. Broken minds and bodies aren't the worst that can come back from Iraq. I saw things there you would not believe. Strange things. Ancient powers. I was in a special unit. I know."

"What's your point?"

"Liam, I've just seen that clay monster on Mrs. Lambert's desk next to her husband's picture. She's kept it under wraps all this time, until now. It's a Sumerian icon of power. It's projecting her pent up sexual energy onto everyone around her so that it can keep her for itself. Liam, it's gotten worse because she wants you very badly. She has chosen tonight of all nights in the calendar to bring it out - Halloween focuses the power. You have to get rid of it. But you can't just throw it away. It has to be accepted by another."

"You've been at the punch."

"Liam, good luck."

Old Bill wheeled around and headed back off to his room. Liam made his way along the corridor to Mrs. Lambert's office. He heard noises coming from one of the rooms on the left. The door was ajar. Someone was having sex. Despite his urgent mission, Liam could not resist pushing the door open a little wider and taking a peek. He wished he hadn't. The room was poorly lit, but Liam could see enough.

Liam's Dad's shorts were round his ankles and his Arab costume was open at the front. His dark glasses were missing. Sweat tricked down his chest and pot belly as he plunged his cock into the anus of a Miley Cyrus who was bent over forwards, grasping the metal bed frame and sticking her ass out high and proud so that Liam's Dad could go long and deep. Liam watched and listened as his Dad grunted with every thrust, and the Miley sucked breath in long swooping moans.

Miley's short dress was pulled up and shoved over onto her back exposing her behind, her panties also on the floor. But the thing that got Liam's attention was Miley Cyrus's large erect cock protruding through the metal bedframe. Miley was wearing her mask, but Liam was pretty sure she was Scott. As he watched his Dad grasp the shoulders of this Miley for leverage, Scott groaned an unmistakably masculine groan and shot out a load of sperm onto the bedspread, spurt after spurt soiling the cover in little pearl colored pools. Liam's Dad shoved his cock farther into Scott and also seemed to reach his peak.

"Oh, oh, oh," moaned Liam's Dad in a drunken voice as he stood on tiptoe, emptying the contents of his balls into Scott's rectum. Then they relaxed, Liam's Dad gently collapsing over Scott's back as the fluids poured out of their cocks.

Liam pulled the door shut, wishing he had never opened it. He wondered if his father knew it was a man. The evening was turning into a nightmare. He carried on to Mrs. Lambert's office. 

Maybe Bill was right.

The light was on in Mrs. Lambert's office. Liam knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Liam Johnson."

"Come in."

Liam opened the door and entered. Mrs. Lambert was sitting behind her desk. She had just put the phone down. She looked worried and annoyed.

"I just spoke to Mr. Steinmetz, who popped in to the party see how things were going. He's concerned. Some of the staff seem under the influence. Others are asleep. What's going on?"

She gestured Liam to sit down at the desk. He sat down and looked at Mrs. Lambert, still beautiful even though she was upset and angry.

"Someone spiked the punch with drugs, Mrs. Lambert. We don't know who, but we think it was the new staff. The residents are fine. They didn't touch the punch. In fact I think they are enjoying the Halloween Party more than usual. Do you mind if I take this ridiculous Justin Bieber costume off?"

Mrs. Lambert nodded her assent and watched as he disrobed and threw the costume into the corner.He could see Mrs. Lambert casting her eyes over his legs and chest, his thin T-shirt and shorts barely concealing his powerful athletic body. He had been in her office before many times, of course, and sexual tension had swirled under the surface on those occasions. But tonight was different. He could feel the passion and longing in the air, it was tangible. Alice and Bill were right. Something was afoot on this Halloween. There was a bottle of water on Mrs. Lambert's desk.

"May I have a sip of water?"

"Of course," said Mrs. Lambert, much less worried about things now she had learned that the residents were fine and enjoying themselves. She poured some out into a plastic cup. 

"Here you are,"

As she handed over the plastic cup of water to Liam he let it slip, by accident or design, and it fell on his lap soaking his shorts and T-shirt. Mrs. Lambert was up in a moment.

"So sorry Liam, here let me wipe you down. It'll dry soon, it's quite warm in here."

Mrs. Lambert stood up, pulled out a paper towel and came around to Liam and started to rub him dry. The effect on Liam's cock was almost immediate, as he hardened under his now semi-translucent shorts. Mrs. Lambert stopped wiping his lap and stood staring down at Liam's well formed cock growing before her eyes. 

She felt the stirrings she so often felt, her pussy becoming hot and wet at the sight of the young man in front of her. Liam smiled calmly up at her, as if he was totally ignorant of what was happening in his shorts. 

Mrs. Lambert's hands shook as she could not help but finish off wiping Liam's lap and lower belly, this time much more slowly, becoming flushed,her breathing shallow as she gently felt his cock move under the paper towel. Then, as always, a cold feeling started to grow in the pit of her stomach as the desire flowed out of her and she remained standing there feeling foolish and mourning its loss. She stood up, mortified.

A knock on the door brought a merciful end to her embarrassment and Liam exhaled in disappointment as the moment was lost. He clasped his hands together on his lap to hide his erection. Mrs. Lambert returned to her side of the desk and called the visitor in. It was Mr. Steinmetz.

"Mrs. Lambert, I want to see the files of the staff who are inebriated. I will have them tested for drugs on Monday. They are a disgrace. Mr. Johnson, what are you doing here?"

"Just reporting to Mrs. Lambert, sir. Telling her about the staff problems. Cliff North, Scott Turner, Cindy Logan, Janice Freeman, and Julia Smith."

"I'll get the files," said Mrs. Lambert as she arose and went over to the filing cabinet, Liam again getting a fine view of her ass as she bent over. She retrieved a slim box file and walked back to place it on the desktop.

"I forgot, Eric Canterbury is another. Sorry," said Liam.

Mrs. Lambert once more walked over to the filing cabinet. As she squatted down to pull open the very bottom drawer, Liam noticed that Mr. Steinmetz was also inspecting Mrs. Lambert's rear end. In one fluid movement, Liam leaned forward, picked up the figurine from its place tucked behind Mr. Lambert's photo and dropped it into the box file, flipping the lid closed.

Mrs. Lambert straightened up with another file and walked over to Mr. Steinmetz. Without being prompted, Liam stood up, picked the box file off the desk, and walked over to join Mrs. Lambert and Mr. Steinmetz. Steinmetz took the file off Mrs. Lambert and turned to Liam, holding his hand out for the other file.

"Are you sure you want what's in this file, Mr. Steinmetz?" asked Liam. 

"Yes, of course. Please give it to me," said Steinmetz.

"Here you are," said Liam with a smile. Steinmetz took it, and looked at Liam Johnson, dressed in damp shorts and a T-shirt, his erection long gone.

"We'll be testing you too, Mr. Johnson," said Steinmetz.

"Fine by me."

"Goodnight Mrs. Lambert." Steinmetz turned and left.

Mrs. Lambert stood at the door, close to Liam, pleased to hear his lack of concern about the drug test. Her yearnings were coming back, but she shoved them to the back of her mind as impossible for all the old reasons.

"I need to get back, Mrs. Lambert. I have to check on the party," said Liam, mentally dismissing the notion that getting rid of the figurine would have changed anything.

"Stay for a few minutes, Liam. I'll be locking up the office now, then we can go see how things are together."

As Mrs. Lambert walked back to her desk, Liam's eyes on her legs and ass, he saw an unmistakable sign of hope. A damp patch was visible on the seat of Mrs. Lambert's uniform. Liam followed her, and sat down again on the chair in front of her desk. He wondered if she would notice that the figurine behind the picture was missing, but she did not. She seemed only to have eyes for him. 

"Does it seem hot in here, Liam?" asked Mrs. Lambert, taking off her cardigan to reveal a thin short sleeved uniform top. Liam could make out her bra straps and cups underneath and began to feel life stirring once more in his damp boxer shorts. 

Mrs. Lambert poured herself a cup of water from the bottle on her desk, drinking it down quickly and spilling some. It dribbled down her chin and her long slender neck onto her chest where the acrylic uniform material turned almost transparent with the wetness.

"Oops. No matter, it's only water."

Liam watched as she wiped it off, only to widen the circle of transparency. His cock started to harden. He kept looking at Mrs. Lambert, quite unconcerned as her eyes strayed down again to his crotch.

"Well, um, Liam, I must be locking up and we'll go down. Let me just close the window," she said. 

She imagined what Liam's cock would look like if it were released from those skimpy damp boxers. She noticed that the area right next to the tip of Liam's cock was, in fact, getting wetter not dryer. She wriggled unconsciously in her chair as her own pussy started to get even wetter. She had no idea it was seeping through her panties and uniform skirt.




Mrs. Lambert's Prison



Mrs. Lambert got up from behind her desk and walked over to the window. She always closed and fastened the window when she left for the evening. As usual the damn thing was stuck. She grabbed hold of the top latches and tried to force them back to make the window slide up to the closed position. 

"Can you help me, Liam? It's always stiff."

Liam stood, came up behind Mrs. Lambert, leaned over her and placed his hands on hers, helping not very effectively to push the window shut. This close proximity meant that Liam's front was touching Mrs. Lambert's back. Liam's cock was rock hard in the stand-to-attention position and as he gently pressed against Mrs. Lambert, his cock touched the small of her back. Mrs. Lambert gasped, she knew exactly what it was. Trying to concentrate, with his help, she got the window almost shut but could not lock it. 

"Perhaps if you could try from the front. Here I'll help," she said.

Mrs. Lambert ducked away from the delicious touch of Liam's cock against her back and switched positions. Liam was in no particular hurry to latch the window, but he raised his arms and made a show of trying, shoving his butt out a little into Mrs. Lambert as he did so. 

Now Mrs. Lambert was behind him he could feel, in turn, her damp breasts and belly pressing against his back. He was absolutely sure she wanted him. He could feel her trembling. But he had been in this situation before. She had to make the move.

Anita Lambert was indeed trembling. She had intended to help Liam, but realized she could not reach the window latch from behind him. But she did not move. She could not tear herself away from the young man in front of her. Instead, almost of their own volition, her hands crept around Liam's trim waist. One rested on his waistline, inserting a thumb inside the waistband of his boxers, while the other moved, shaking, down the outside of his boxers and touched his cock. Her fingers extended and softly cupped the stiff cock as it distended his shorts outwards. 

Liam ceased the pretense of fiddling with the window latches, but kept his hands high up there to allow Mrs. Lambert freedom of movement to do whatever she wanted. Anita Lambert, shaking with desire and fear in equal proportion, awaited the draining cold force that would soon come to end the whole encounter once more in embarrassment and shame. 

But her desire did not evaporate. Not yet, anyway. Mrs. Lambert's soft touch stroked Liam's cock from base to tip and then gripped it with a firmer grasp through his shorts. She used her left hand to pull herself closer into his back and as she did so she felt the first drips of her own moisture travel down the inside of her leg from her now-saturated panties. She dipped her head onto the back of his neck and suppressed a moan.

Her hand let go of Liam's cock and moved up and back down under his shorts, taking the head of his cock in her palm. She shivered as she realized it was slippery with pre-cum, and she gently stroked and squeezed it as her other hand moved down under the shorts and started to play with Liam's balls. This was much further than she had ever been permitted to go before. 

Anita Lambert knew that the terrible coldness could return at any time. Now she had crossed the line with young Liam, her employee. She felt a need to hurry, almost a panic, that she knew Liam did not. She let go his cock and balls and took a step back. Liam waited, wondering if he could let go the window now, and worried something had gone wrong. But he knew better than to speak. 

"Let go the window," she said.

He let go. She tugged at his hand to turn him around. They both looked at the office. Mrs. Lambert's desk was tidy, but crammed with a monitor, phone, writing materials and desk files. The chair on which Liam had sat was a simple tubular chair with no arm-rests. Anita Lambert took his hand and led him to the chair. She bent over and pulled down his boxers, looking at his stiff, fat, cock with hunger in her eyes. But she had no time for foreplay, as the devil was chasing her. She gently pushed him back and he sat down on the chair with his cock pointing up, slick with pre-cum.

She reached under her uniform skirt and wriggled out of her dripping wet panties, which she threw on the floor. Everything else stayed on. Then she hitched up her skirt with one hand and stepped forward over Liam, bending her knees to grasp his cock. She descended slowly onto the tip of his cock. She had speed in mind before she started moving down, but she had not had a man inside her for nearly five years. She paused as his thick doorknob of a glans slid into her pussy inch by inch. The shock of penetration took her breath away, and she stopped as she savored the feel of his fat cock tip just inside her.

She moved on down in stages, each inch of progression giving her pleasure, uttering small gasps as she dripped her fluids onto his balls and crotch, soaking them both. Then the pleasure took over and her knees gave way as she relaxed all the way down onto his cock, feeling it press into her, deep inside, and she leaned forward onto his shoulder, her arms around his back. She knew she was close to coming, the excitement and the never-forgotten sensations reawakened in her.

"Liam, I want you to come as quickly as you can. It's really important," she whispered in his ear, urgently pleading with him. This took Liam by surprise, as he was trying quite hard to do the opposite.

"Tell me again, Mrs. Lambert," he said as he lifted her up a few inches and let her sink down onto his cock all over again.

"Mr. Johnson, I want you to fill me up with your sperm right now."

Liam lifted Mrs. Lambert up again and let her down, this time with a wriggly thrust on his part. Mrs. Lambert's hand let go his back and felt down behind her, finding and gently squeezing his balls.

"Hurry up, Liam."

That did it. He arched his back, his clenched butt lifting Mrs. Lambert a couple of inches up as his crotch lifted, driving his cock as far as it would go. His cum flooded into her. Mrs. Lambert felt his cock quiver as his spasms filled her with her first semen for five years. They both clasped each other in a clinch, trembling but not moving, as their fluids mixed inside her and began to escape, running down between them and soaking the chair seat until they were sitting in a shallow pool of it. 

Anita Lambert had won her race. She didn't know why, but she had. 

The light in the corridor outside the office turned on, and they could hear the door at the end open. Mrs. Lambert leaped up. She kicked her wet panties under her desk and retreated back to her chair, holding her skirt up around her waist with one hand while the other covered her pussy to stop it dripping his sperm onto the floor. Liam pulled his shorts up, then crossed his legs and clasped his hands on his lap to conceal the mess they were in. There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Lambert, who had let her skirt fall back into place and was now sitting behind her desk spraying some air freshener around the room.

"Mr. Steinmetz." 

The door opened and Steinmetz's head popped around the door. 

"I found this in one of the box files. Is it yours, Mrs. Lambert?" he said, waving the Sumerian figurine at her.

In shock, Mrs. Lambert looked down at her husband's picture on the desk. The figurine was gone. She gathered her wits and took a deep breath.

"No, Mr. Steinmetz. You can keep it," she said with a trembling voice.

"OK. I will. Just checking, goodnight." Steinmetz closed the door behind him.

Mrs. Lambert and Liam looked at one another. She was radiant.

"I will never be able to repay you for this, Liam. For both of the things you did for me tonight."

Liam smiled back at her.

"Shall we go see how the party is going, Mrs. Lambert?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

Five minutes later Liam had donned his Justin Bieber outfit and Mrs. Lambert had found some fresh panties. As Liam followed her out of the office he glanced at the photo of Mr. Lambert. The picture was still in the frame, but now there only remained a featureless desert landscape. Mr. Lambert's image had disappeared.



Mrs. Lambfinger of the 9th Grade



1977... the year Skynyrd crashed, Star Wars came out, and I had a 9th grade math teacher named Mrs. Lambfinger. Horrible name, I know, and it was that much worse that her first name was Pamela and sort of rhymed (Pamela Ramyerfinger), though I only thought of her as Mrs. Lambfinger.

No. Not quite true. I thought of her in many different ways. I sometimes thought of her unbuttoning her top for me, button by button, to reveal-- well, I'm not sure now how my fantasies played out, since they had no basis in reality with any girl at that point, of course. I knew nothing about how girls really behaved when you were about to have sex with them, I didn't know if everyone but me was having it or no one was, but I did know one thing. Mrs. Lambfinger was hot.

She'd be talking about calculating radiuses and angles and stuff, but all I could do was look at her in her peach-colored, pyjama-like pantsuits, their bell bottoms swaying behind her as she strode from one end of the chalkboard to the other, and contemplate the glorious reality underneath it all.

What was it that I found so entrancing about her? The girls my age were gawky, bony, skinny faces and big lips sticking out, boobs stuck to them like tennis balls glued on a board. Mrs. Lambfinger was... ripe. A fully ripened woman in her 20s (which seemed so mature to me then), lips broad and sensual, blue eyes sensitive and knowing, straight blonde hair cascading down to her arms. Her breasts ample underneath their peach polyester prison, her hips wide and womanly and topped by little love handles, her thighs pneumatic, stretching the artificial fiber to its tensile limits, forming a pair of perfect smooth ovoids in which flesh and polyester seemed to have come together as one.

Or on a sunnier spring day, she might go all hippie chick, loose peasanty blouse under which those big handfuls of breast swayed back and forth loosely, jeans stretching around a round, squishy butt, little toes peeking out of brown sandals, inviting you to imagine the flesh that continued underneath the clothing. Don't get me wrong, she wasn't fat, she was simply filled out, squeezable, plenty to hold onto. She was a woman, not a girl, hear her roar (as a song of the day had it), and day after day, night after night, her shape filled my dreams.

And then the year ended. I got a B+. Considering how little I was paying attention to math, that was probably pretty good.

* * *

College. Elvis Costello and Violent Femmes, My Dinner With Andre when we were being sophisticated (which is not to say we didn't all race to see Empire and Jedi, of course).

I graduated in '86 and got a job in technology for a big paper company. The job was a little on the boring side-- what first job isn't-- but all in all this was a good time, young, money to spend, skinny ties and new wave to dance to.

One perk was getting to go to a convention in Dallas-- travel and fancy dinners on the company dime, hurray-- as one of about a dozen people from all over the company. I didn't know any of them.

We met up in the lounge of the Westin to get our credentials and meet each other, and it was then that one of the women, a tall, somewhat well-padded but still shapely blonde turned toward me, and we looked at each other for a moment, and then we stared, not believing what we saw, and then--

"Richie?"

"Rich. Mrs. Lamb...?"

"Oh, God no," she said, laughing. "Call me Pam Stengaard. I haven't been Mrs. Lambfinger for three or four years, thank God."

"You two know each other?" one of the men asked.

"You won't believe it, it's totally embarassing," she said, but she wasn't embarassed, she just found it funny, as she explained to him how we knew each other.

She was more rounded out than she had been then, broader across the hips, even bigger breasts, a little rounder and fuller face. But she still had the easygoing, relaxed earth-mother confidence that I'd responded to years before, and even if she was now starting to look a little-- not fat, but big-- I still found her sensual and ripe, and not just for nostalgia's sake. That is, I had these thoughts, but quickly put them away, as being purely of academic interest.

We went to dinner in a large group but I barely had a chance to speak to her and it was mostly boring business talk all evening. The next day we were too busy talking to customers on the floor to catch up, either, but finally that evening I caught her and invited her to dinner. She said dinner was already spoken for but she would be happy to join me for a drink beforehand.

When she came down to the bar she was in a black cocktail dress which followed her curves unabashedly, and showed off a little cleavage to boot. The relatively short blonde hair and the sparkling earrings were quite a contrast to my 70s memories of her, but if my 15-year-old self had been there, he'd still have knocked over the table when his wood hit it at high speed.

"Glad you don't mind being seen with an older woman," she said as I handed her a glass of chablis.

"To the Westfield Titans and math class," I toasted, clinking my class to hers. "Actually, I'm delighted. It's really nice to see you again. As adults."

"Adults," she said, as if she was merely humoring me with the idea.

"I mean, not to pry, but as grownup as you seemed to me then-- to the whole class-- you must have been about my age now. Fresh out of school, anyway."

"What class were you?"

"Class of '81."

"So you were only the second class I ever taught," she said. "God, that was terrifying sometimes. I hope I did all right."

"You were great," I said. "I learned a lot." I took another sip before the next thing I was thinking of saying; it could have ended the evening real fast. "I thought you were really hot, too," I said.

"You were 15, you would have thought a lamppost was hot," she said. Whew, at least she took it in good humor.

"True, but I did," I said.

"Ah, my glory days," she said. "You know you're getting old when your students start turning up as your colleagues."

We chatted a bit and then her colleague, Jerry, came to get her. I couldn't tell if they were more than colleagues or not, probably not. I spent the evening watching pay per view and eating room service-- the classic lonely guy night in a distant city. It would have been so much better with... somebody.

* * *

The next day was another long day of working the exhibit and talking to customers, and I hardly had a chance to speak to Pam again. So I was surprised, but pleasantly so, when she came up to me at the end of the day and said "I don't have any other plans, do you want to join me for dinner?"

I hope I didn't seem too pathetically eager to take her up on the offer.

We went to a little Mexican place recommended by one of the other exhibitors-- we both laughed when we saw it, it was "romantic" in the most overdone way, strolling guitarists and red lighting and all the other atmospheric touches of a bordello. Maybe because the atmosphere was so preposterous, we soon turned to talking about ourselves a little more freely than before.

"It wasn't anything bad," she said, by way of explaining her divorce. "We got married so young-- before we knew who we were, really. By the time we figured it out, we were different people than the ones we'd married. But what about you? Is there somebody?"

"Not really," I said. "I mean-- I had a girlfriend in college, but I guess we're over."

"You guess?"

"Well, she lives in Boston--"

"Do you visit her?"

"I have once or twice. It's hard, it's expensive--"

"If it's worth it to you," she said, "you overcome those obstacles. You take the chance. Is it worth it to you?"

"I don't know. We thought it was, but as time goes by, we just don't seem to be able to keep it going," I said, and as I said it I could see a kind of disappointment in me in her eyes. It was like being in class with a teacher again-- I'd flunked a test. Well, who asked her to grade my life? "It sounds all romantic to say distance doesn't matter and you'll make it work no matter what, but life just doesn't work out that way sometimes, I guess."

"As we both found out," she said, turning her gaze from me to the dessert menu.

* * *

Somehow the evening never really recovered from that point. We were cordial but there was a little sour note in the air; I'd disappointed her somehow, she'd gotten under my skin a little, and so any distant hope I had of getting into her skin faded. We said good night in the elevator and went off to our separate floors.

I had a restless night and woke up thinking about her and the things she'd said. If it's worth it to you... you take the chance. Is it worth it to me? Goddammit, it was, I wasn't going to let it end where last night had ended.

It was still a good two hours before the convention floor opened so I thought we could have breakfast and try to get back on a friendlier basis. I called her room but she didn't answer. I showered and dressed quickly and then went to her room-- it might be a little forward but I hoped she wouldn't mind.

It looked dark inside from the peephole-- she was probably gone already but I knocked anyway. To my surprise I saw an eye come to the peephole, and then she opened the door.

She was standing in the hotel robe which was quite small and barely wrapped around her. Under it she wore a cream-colored sheer nightgown which only went as far as her thighs; her legs were bare below that. I had to ratchet my view up from her cleavage and to her face, where her blonde hair lay tousled over one eye-- it was obvious I had awakened her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, I thought you might want to have breakfast-- I'm really sorry I--"

"I overslept," she said, by way of stopping my flow of words. She didn't say anything else.

It was my turn. "I thought about what you said. About if something's worth it to you, you have to take the chance."

She still looked at me. I couldn't tell if she understood what I was saying or not.

I took the chance.

I put my hands around her broad hips and brought my lips to hers to kiss her. After a moment's hesitation she kissed back, pulling me inside the room and shutting the door behind me with her bare foot.

Our tongues touched and she sucked mine inside her mouth as I undid the belt of her robe and she let it drop off her body. Now I saw her in her sheer nightgown, her nipples protruding from the material, her large round breasts barely visible in the dim light of the room.

We kissed furiously as I caressed her broad, soft ass and she unbuttoned my shirt, then ran her hands up and down my chest. I slipped my hands under her panties and kneaded her butt, pressing her crotch against the hardon in my pants as I did so. She broke our kiss and moved her head down to lick at my nipple while unbuckling my pants. She dropped them around my ankles and then slipped the briefs down with one hand while taking my hard cock in her hand with the other. Then she was down on her knees and looking at it, licking her lips.

A moment later her soft warm mouth was all over it, bobbing up and down the head and taking it deep in her mouth and halfway up the shaft while her other hand caressed my chest above. She pushed me over to the bed, still warm from her sleep, and had me lie back on it, and then she spread my legs apart and started licking my balls hungrily, while my cock flopped against her face, her hair brushing over it as she worked eagerly on my sack. Then she took my cock in her mouth again and pumped it hard with her hand while bobbing up and down on the head. I made noises to indicate that I was about to cum and she seemed not to mind. My toes curled, stars went around my head, I shot the first spurt in her mouth and she swallowed it quickly, then another and another and she took them in and swallowed them too.

Mrs. Lambfinger swallowed my cum. What would Corey Peterson say to that?

When I was finished throbbing and my erection was sinking, she climbed up onto the bed, pulled the nightgown over her head, and lay down next to me, her head on my chest. I put my finger under her chin and moved her lips up to mine and we kissed again, a little more calmly but no less sincerely. Now I could run my hands over her ripe, full figure, the round, heavy breasts rolling out over my chest, the soft, ample ass and thick, powerful thighs. She felt so natural and nurturing, her size, her softness, her warmth.

I moved down to suck at her nipples and rubbed my hand along the inside of her sleek thigh flesh until I reached a place warm and steamy. Just a couple of gentle strokes of her sex and it opened up and the wetness took my fingers in. She whimpered a little as my fingers went inside her and I nuzzled my way down her soft belly, rubbing my face in her thicket of fur. I pulled my fingers out and grabbed hold of her ass cheeks to open her wide. Then tongue on labia, the metallic tang of her juices as I licked my way up and down the soft folds of her pussy, kneading her ass as I dove deeper, deeper into the warm wet recesses of her slit, then pushed her back on her back to spread her ass wide and tickle the little wrinkled hole with the tip of my tongue. There was nothing I didn't want to do with her, now that I had her and she had me.

It didn't take long with her writhing in delight at my tongue for my cock to get hard again. Now I climbed on top of her and she took it by the root again and pointed the head straight into her pussy. I slid into her and rested atop her before pulling out again; it was a completely different experience being on top of her womanly figure rather than the skinny young girls I'd had in college. I loved plowing into her, feeling her big ass move with each thrust, nuzzling her fat round tits, stroking the soft flesh under her arms, around her hips, along her thighs and calves.

We made love like this for a good ten or fifteen minutes, feeling each other's bodies, kissing and nuzzling and nibbling affectionately, before she started bucking back hard like she was about to cum. She rubbed her clit as I pounded into her and then with a scream she clamped her thighs around me and shook with each throbbing wave of her orgasm. Once it had subsided I ran my fingers under her ass and started thrusting hard again, and within a few strokes I too came and collapsed onto her, feeling the light mist of sweat on her chest with my face.

"We have to get dressed and go down to the hall," she said a few moments later.

"What are you doing tonight?" I asked.

"Getting laid by you, I hope," she said.

"So I got an A, Mrs. Lambfinger?"

"Yes, Richie, you did. And if you want to do it ever again, you'll call me Pamela from now on." 



Mrs. Lancroft's Boarding House



Hi, I'm Kevin and I wanted to tell you about something that happened to me about a year ago that is unf**kingbelieveable. Okay, so it all started like this ... I had been a boarder at Mrs. Lancroft's Rooming House for almost a month. My room was very nice, clean and had all the basics covered, you know, bed, dressers, closet, I even had my own private bathroom. None of the other rooms I saw in town had that, you would have always had to walk down the hall in your skivvies to take a leak in the middle of the night. And, I gotta tell you, I didn't feature that. Especially with the kinda bums that tend to stay at rooming houses, like old homos who have nowhere else to go.

I wasn't like that. I mean, I was going to college, fer Chrissake's. My parents didn't have a lotta cash and there wasn't room for me on campus so a decent room in one of the many rooming houses they have around in this college town was my destiny. You could say. I mean, they're all pretty much the same but this house had something all of the others didn't have.

Mrs. Lancroft.

I don't know, but I guess I always have had a thing about older women. And I really mean older women, not just some chick who's like 24 or something. I don't know why, okay, well maybe I do but I'm not telling YOU. At least, not yet.

So anyway, back to Mrs. Lancroft. Please. It's not that she's some beauty queen but there's just something about her. She's what they call "attractive." But in a real womanly kind of way. She doesn't act all glamorous or anything, but she's got this kind of grace about her that is so f**king sexy. 

And she always looks like she knows something. Maybe that's because when she looks at you, she LOOKS at you. Right in the eyes. The first time she did that to me, when I came to look at the room, I got a boner. Needless to say, I took the room. You can't ignore a perk like that. Even if it was all in my fantasies, hell, it's better then renting a room down the street and having to look at Old Man Diller's vein-y red nose at breakfast every damn day.

She seemed kinda happy when I said I'd take it. I like to flatter myself and say that's because she could see what a fine, upstanding young man I was and all that crap but, frankly, I think she was just getting worried because all the other rooming houses were filling up -- except hers. I thought that those other guys had to be NUTS not to choose Lancroft's Room & Board over all the rest. Now I think I know why they steered clear, fools that they are. But again, I am getting ahead of myself.

She never did rent that other room out and the first few weeks went pretty smoothly, she told me the rules, you know, no smoking, no drinking, no wild parties, the usual stuff. I mean, I'm a pretty quiet guy. Mostly. And I hardly even knew anybody here yet so a wild party of one was about all that she had to be worried about. We kind of fell into a rhythm. The upstairs house was divvied up into two halves -- her private area was on one side and the guest rooms (and my personal bathroom) on the other. Downstairs was the living room, kitchen & dining room. In the mornings I'd take my shower and get dressed for school and then come down for some cereal and some coffee before heading out. The first week or two she was dressed very neatly for work (she has a part-time position at the university as an on-site nurse). Then her shift changes and I noticed that she would be in the kitchen in her robe, this long, pink, soft fluffy thing under which she wore who the hell knows what. 

Now, I don't know about you but it really was a toss-up over which got me harder -- that robe that looked like you had to just run your hand over it or that white nurse uniform and those white nurse shoes. Let's just say that I started everyday wide awake and raring to go.

I also liked the way she was so matter of fact about me being there. She'd be like, "Oh, good mornin', Kevin. Do you want some coffee, Sweetie?" That "Sweetie" thing really got me every time. A little twinge in my pants as soon as the "s" word started coming out. And when she'd hand me my coffee, she do that lookin' straight in my eyes thing and, I gotta tell you, I'd leave for class every day with a little wet spot on my jeans.

I have to apologize, I know it sounds like I'm sex-crazed but ... hell, I am. I'm in college, fer Chrissake's. Anyway, everything was going great with Mrs. L and me when her niece had to come along and ruin it all. Apparently, Mrs. L's sister wasn't feeling all too good and so her niece, Jennifer, came to live with us, err ... her. Now normally, I might be a bit overjoyed at this because her niece was very cute in a virginal, jail-bait kinda way but mostly I just felt like it was a big intrusion.

Me and Mrs. L were doin' just fine on our own. I mean, if you didn't know better you'd have thought we were an old married couple. Give or take a couple of decades difference in age. Most nights she would cook and we'd eat dinner together and chat about our days and then we'd hang around the living room watching TV together. Sometimes she would fall asleep on the sofa and do this little pretty-lady snore, and I would watch her rather than the TV any day.

But now Jennifer was here and things got a little formal again. I'm sure to make sure I didn't get too chummy with niece and get us all in trouble. But she had no need to worry, since little Jennifer was not my type in the slightest. We all know who was my type, don't we?

Now here's when the, uh, trouble started. Mrs. L's sister got sicker and wanted her to come and stay with her for awhile. Jennifer, who had just started college was to stay at the boarding house to go to school and look after me. I mean, NOT look after me but, y' know, make sure I didn't steal the doorknobs, I guess.

I had to act cool when Mrs. L left and I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, cause that was what I thought I was supposed to do. To be polite and everything. She seemed surprised and then I got embarrassed. I mean, aren't you supposed to kiss people goodbye when they go on trips? Or is that just family? I get confused. Anyway, she looked me right in the eye and said, "Take care of things for me, Kevin" and I nodded dumbly. Of course, I would.

So she left and the first week went very slowly. Jennifer and I avoided each other as much as possible out of sheer terror, I think. "God, I hope she doesn't trip and fall on my dick or something" was my inner mantra. But I was starting to get bored without all those cozy evenings at home with me and the Mrs. 

One day when Jennifer was at class, I happened to walk by and noticed her bedroom door was open. I was suddenly curious as to the décor of that second guest bedroom. (Was it as nice as mine? Similar color scheme?) I decided to do some simple research. I was studying the room for architectural details when suddenly I heard Jennifer say, "Uh, what are you doing in here?" in an accusatory tone I was not altogether in love with.

"What?," I said.

"What are you doing in my bedroom, Kevin?"

"What? Nothing," I said as I nonchalantly sauntered past her.

"What is that in your HAND???" she said very nastily.

"What." I answered evenly almost at the door. My hands were not even in front of me, what the heck was this chick talking about?

"That PAIR OF PANTIES in your hand? MY pair of panties??" again, in that accusatory tone. 

"What?" I said innocently, and tossed the panties on her bed as I left the room and got away from that crazy bee-atch.

Women. I swear.

So, after that annoying incident with Miss GoodyTwoShoes, I go down to the kitchen to get a cold brew from the fridge. It feels good going down my throat as I head back upstairs to my room to do some reading. I would watch TV but it's just not the same with Mrs. Lancroft being gone and all. 

Okay, so listen to this, as I get to the top of the stairs I hear that stupid Jennifer on the phone and I definitely hear the word, "panties". I stop in my tracks. Oh, she is so not calling her aunt. I walk quietly over to her door and stand perfectly still (I can do that, you know. No one can hear me.) "And then, he throws my panties on the bed ... yes, worn panties ...I know, it's disgusting! So, listen to this, he throws my worm panties on the bed and as he walks out guess what he says, under his breath? Ready? "Crazy bitch." YES. He TOTALLY did! I can't believe it. He's really starting to creep me out, Aunt Marion. Hm? Okay, good. When? Oh, great. I am so relieved. He's really starting to creep me out."

I GET it. I am really starting to creep her out! What's up with that?? And, furthermore, when did I actually SAY, "crazy bee-atch"? This is nuts, I have got to stop talking to myself. 

And now, suddenly, my stomach does a flip and I feel nauseous. Mrs. Lancroft is coming home now ... and she is going to throw me out. Just the thought of that is making my throat close up. I can't get thrown out and it's not cause I won't have a place to live, cause I already know of two. It's mainly cause I can't stand the thought of not sleeping in the same house as the Mrs.

This sucks. This sucks. This sucks.

I go to my room, and lie on my bed. And drink my beer. Then I get another one from the fridge. And another one. And another one. And then there's no more. So I go out and get a couple of six-packs. And hole up in my room until I fall asleep. Okay, pass out. Same thing.

The next thing I know is there is a knocking sound slowly drifting into my head, which is stuffed under my pillow. I notice that I have drooled onto the sheet. Nice. I ignore the sound and go back to sleep. Bad idea. I discover.

Cause the next thing I know is the covers are thrown back and I'm suddenly cold. And then, I kid you not, a feel a HUGE pain in my butt!! Or, ON my butt, I should say. I yell out and instinctively but my hand back there and twist my head around. It's MRS. LANCROFT!!!!

I can't tell you the mixture of emotions that run through my head -- thrilled to see her, frightened and confused, and last, but certainly not least, I got a huge boner. It's all a big jumble for the next few minutes, cause she's yelling at me in this scary quiet way and every time I try to pull the covers back up she yanks them back down. And, you know, it's embarrassing. I mean, I have my jockeys on but their not the cleanest in the world and, you know, I'm kinda naked-ish.

And the worst part is I can't really turn over to face her cause of the huge boner that is so hard it's raising my butt up a bit. So, I am sort of trapped there in my own bed while the woman I am crazy about is tell me what a shit I am. Well, not in those words, cause she's too classy for that, but that's the basic idea.

"Kevin! What in the world were you thinking??? She's a young girl. You have to know how inappropriate that was??? Don't you??" "Well, I guess so, but at the time --"

"AT THE TIME?"

Right then I was so scared that she was gonna throw me out I totally didn't expect what happened next. Over my shoulder I could see her walking towards me with an old-fashioned ladies hairbrush and, you know, it just didn't compute. Was she gonna start combing her hair?

She sat in the chair by the bed. Then look at me, serious as hell. "Kevin. Come over here right this minute."

'What? NO WAY, José', I thought. Then like a robot, I walked over to her chair, unable to stop myself.

She looked up at me with a pent-up intensity from all the days we spent apart. I saw her hands go to my belt and deftly un-buckle it. Unsnap my jeans and pull that zipper down. A part of me, a really stupid part of me, entertained the idea that, perhaps, the lady had missed me and just wanted to show me how much. My dick was hard as a door knocker. I could almost feel her soft lips around it as she slid my tightie whities down to my ankles.

This woman meant business, I remember thinking and I spread my legs into a stance that could support my weight while she pleasured herself on me.

Then something went terribly wrong. The next thing I knew was that I was upside down, my head near the floor and my bare ass up in the air, somehow balanced over her knee.

"WHATTTT????"

"You are going to get the spanking of your LIFE, young man. How COULD you???"

"Spanking??? SPANKING??? But I'm 18 years ol --"

WHACK!!

YEOWWWWWWWW!

I could not believe this. I mean, I just could NOT believe it. Here I was, a grown man, trapped over the woman I adored's lap like a little naughty boy, with my pants pulled down to my knees and my ass cheeks totally bare-assed naked????

I wanted to leap up and say, "Hey, what's going on, LADY?" but, the ... uh, boner was getting harder and I just didn't think it wise.

So I start trying to put my hands back there to cover my bare ass when a volley of hard hairbrush smacks came crashing down on them. I yell out loud and pull my hands away to save them, and then my ass starts to feel the wrath of the Mrs. It was an entirely new feeling and one of the most painful in my life. This woman had some arm. She could've been a major league player or something.

My butt was burning like hell as smack after smack hit my cheeks and I got to the point where I was just gonna get up and away from the brush, boner or not. I started to turn and could see her face was bright red and so mad. SO mad. So, she says "Oh, NO you DON'T, young man."

And, in like a flash, she's sitting on the bed next to me and her other arm grabs me by the waist and hoists me up so my burning ass even higher up and starts to really light into me with that wicked ass brush.

"I - SMACK! -- will - SMACK! -- teach - SMACK! -- you - SMACK! -- not - SMACK! -- to - SMACK! --disrespect - SMACK! -a lady!! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!!!!!

YeOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! OW! OW! OW! OW!

"Oh My GOD!", I thought. It suddenly occurred to me ... "I am getting a SPANKING!!!" I know it seems stupid but when it started I didn't have time to think but with her arm around my waist and my naked ass up in the air, so exposed for her to see EVERYTHING it hit me, "Holy SHIT! I am getting a SPANKING!!!!"

I never got one before. My parents were pretty calm people and the most I got was a "go to your room" or "no TV" so this kind of thing was, like, totally new for me. But I always remember getting a little twitch in my package whenever one of the other kids at school would talk about getting a spanking. I don't know why, but, apparently I liked it on some level because I was starting to drip a little. First, drool, then drip. I have sprung a leak or something.

I can NOT TELL YOU HOW EMBARRASSED I WAS! Here I was trying to get her to see me like the man I am, and not just some college dude, and here she is scolding me and spanking my bare bottom just like a little kid, or something. 

With her arm around my waist, holding me to her tightly, I could feel her body pressing into me, her womanly breasts and soft curves. Part of me wanted to take her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her, and the other part felt like I was gonna start bawling like a little brat. It was the weirdest feeling of my life!

"I expected SO much more from you, Kevin. I left you here with my niece because I thought you would protect her and, instead, you violate her privacy????"

Speaking of privacy, I was wondering if she could see my asshole. I mean my ass was pushed up right in her face, almost. That was a horrifying thought. And totally hot, as well. Oh, I am fucked up. Here I am wanting this nice (but very angry lady) to take a look at my asshole. And being mortified that she can. Or is.

And the boner keeps getting harder. At least, that was until she went into warp drive. Here I thought she was spanking me unreasonably hard when I hear,

"And then I find these panties IN YOUR ROOM! That's despicable, Kevin. Not only do you manhandle them, but you have the gall to STEAL them??? In MY house???"

Steal them? I threw them on the bed!!! That's when I make the stupid mistake of saying, "Please stoppp! I didn't meannnn itttt! I swearrrr! And she's a LIAR! I didn't TAKE themmmmm!!!!

"HOW DARE YOU BLAME HER!!!! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!!!!! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!!!!! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!!!!!

ALL right in the very CENTER of my butt! I am screaming now, at the top of my lungs, and kicking to try to get away, but this lady is strong, man. And, out of no where, I totally burst into tears ... bawling like a God-damn baby. I am SO embarrassed now ... CRYING. Big heaving SOBS. Like a little kid. Or worse, like a little girl!!!

Then it stops. All is quiet. I hear her put the hairbrush down and then the light warm touch of her hand gingerly examining my butt. As much as it hurt to have anything touch that area, the feel of her hands on me was making me dizzy. 

I hear her sigh, as "tsk, tsk, tsk." 

"See what you made me do??? You are actually blistering a bit."

Then I feel the palm of her hand on my cheek. My butt cheek. 

"And you are burning up."

I feel her hand come round to my forehead. I want to melt into a big puddle the minute I feel her skin on my face. Oh my GOD. I am in love with this woman now.

And then I hear the dreaded words.

"JENNIFER, DEAR??? Go get me the thermometer, please????