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Mrs. America Ch. 01

By: ISawYourMommy



Author's Note: A reader suggested that I do a series of stories about contestants in the Mrs. America pageant. What a fine idea. However, I have of late had a fascination with tee-shirts that say things on them. I found a website (I can't remember the URL anymore) with a number of printed tee-shirts appropriate to this kind of story. So, both elements – Mrs. America contestant wearing a naughty tee-shirt – will be present in this series. I apologize in advance for those readers that enjoy the MILF genre, but not the Cheating Wife Genre, as this series, almost by definition, falls into the latter.

Elizabeth stirred as she felt her husband's weight return to their bed. His lips brushed her scrubbed cheek and he whispered in her ear.

"We'll be back around 4 or so, sweetie."

"Mmm," she murmured, groggy with sleep. "Where are you going?"

"Will and I are going hiking up around Bogus Basin. Remember?"

She groaned in response.

"I told you about this early in the week. You said no problem."

"Whatever," she mumbled, rolling away from her errant husband. The truth was, she did remember him telling her that he and their twelve-year-old son were going to be gone for the day. She wasn't happy about it when he informed her Tuesday night, and she sought to remind him of her consternation again this morning.

His weight lifted off the bed and she listened as he walked from the room. She lay in bed for a few more minutes, ears attuned to the garage door opening and the rumble of his Expedition as it sped down the driveway, leaving her alone in the house.

Elizabeth rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling, wallowing in self-pity. Her husband was one of the vice-presidents for a large construction concern headquartered in Boise, Idaho. He was senior enough in the corporate hierarchy to afford a comfortable lifestyle, nicely supplemented by her interior design business. But his status was low enough that his travel schedule was horrendous, often seeing him away on business three weeks out of any given month.

This month was no different. He didn't return from Kansas City until 8:00 last night and would be leaving for Utah Sunday afternoon. And rather than spend his Saturday – their Saturday – as a family, he abandoned her for the day, preferring instead an afternoon hiking around the foothills above Boise.

What made his conduct even more maddening is the utter aloofness with which he had approached her involvement in the Mrs. Idaho pageantry. He lent little support during the events leading up the pageant. Instead of offering to pick Will up at school on those afternoons when she was in sessions with her pageant coach, he begged off, claiming that all of his traveling required him to work late on those nights. And while he attended the pageant itself (parts of it actually), all she received upon her crowning as Mrs. Idaho was a congratulatory dinner and a vase full of flowers. The Syringa, to boot. So what if the Syringa was Idaho's official state flower?

Elizabeth wiped these thoughts from her consciousness and lifted herself from the bed that she shared (on rare occasions) with her husband. After starting a pot of coffee in the kitchen, she sauntered back to their bedroom and started the shower, luxuriating in the scalding water that cascaded over her tanned shoulders and down her lightly muscled back.

She slid the bar of soap over her supple thighs and flat-tanned stomach, gently lathering her trimmed pubic area. Her sudsy fingers traced up her torso, slowly circling the soft breasts that filled her 34C bras, closing in on the rubbery nipples that sat as bulls-eyes at the center of her milky white globes.

Cleansed, she stepped into a pair of khaki shorts and an old tee-shirt and returned to the kitchen for her morning ritual of coffee and croissant. Mug in hand, she padded through the house in bare feet to her home office and, setting the coffee on the desk, opened her brief case and extracted a set of plans for the Blodgett home that she had brought home to review over the weekend.

She loved the Blodgett house. Mrs. Blodgett had given her carte blanche to redecorate the mountain-side home she shared with her husband, an executive with a large forestry and paper products corporation in Boise, and their children. Given that the entire house was being redone, she and Mrs. Blodgett had decided that accomplishing their goals in phases was best. They were just completing the first phase and starting the second one.

After reviewing the various prints and plans for an hour or so, Elizabeth decided that she'd drive up to the house to check on the carpenters' progress in what was to become Mr. Blodgett's home office. Eventually, the room would be oak-paneled with a private bath, recessed wet bar and a flat-panel TV mounted on the wall opposite a large oak desk. Now, it was just an empty shell as the carpenters trimmed and mounted the wood wall panels.

Though it was Saturday morning, Elizabeth had no qualms about visiting the house and disturbing the Blodgetts' weekend. Mrs. Blodgett had informed her that the family was taking vacation in Laguna Beach for two weeks, though their eldest son, Zach, would not be joining them.

Sitting at her desk, sipping the remains of her coffee, her mind drifted to Zach, the ne'er-do-well of the family. Twenty-four going on sixteen, Zach had graduated from Arizona State the previous December and returned home, not having a job to go to. This did not surprise Elizabeth, as she understood that Zach had taken six-and-a-half years to graduate college.

He sure is fresh one. Whenever Elizabeth visited the Blodgett home to check on the redecorating progress, Zach was always there, lounging by the pool or playing Xbox 360 (she recognized the gaming console because her son had the same one). He was always sure to say hello to her with a lecherous smile and a gleam in his eye, holding her hand a little longer than was appropriate.

Elizabeth glanced at her watch and saw that noon was approaching. She unlocked one of the drawers in her desk and pulled the Blodgetts' house key from it. After gathering a note pad and her car keys, she slipped into a pair of sandals and made her way toward the garage. Her slender fingers grasped the knob but she paused, recalling the last time she had seen Zach.

* * *

It was about a month ago, right before he had left for somewhere in South America for a backpacking trip. She and Mrs. Blodgett were standing and talking in the great room, which was part of the second phase of redecorating. It was a massive room, with a vaulted ceiling and stone fireplace big enough for a child to stand in. The exterior wall contained floor-to-ceiling windows and two sets of French doors that let out onto the pool deck, which itself overlooked a wide, shallow valley.

Elizabeth had glanced outside to see Zach napping on a lounger beside the pool, his skin a deep bronze that glistened with sweat and sun tan oil. After a few minutes, he had lifted his head and seen her talking with his mother, and gave her a flirtatious wave. She had turned away, focusing her attention on Mrs. Blodgett's ideas for the room.

About ten minutes later, Zach came in through the French doors and said hello to his mom. He took Elizabeth's soft hand in his own, again holding it a little too long. He had left his shirt by the pool and several beads of perspiration rolled down his well-defined pectorals. From the kitchen, the phone had rung and Mrs. Blodgett excused herself.

"It's good to see you, Elizabeth," he said, as though they were life-long friends.

"You, too, Zach," she responded, her voice clipped. "Are you enjoying your summer?"

He smiled like the golden boy he was. "Every day's summer when you're unemployed. A little bored, though. I don't have any friends here and I dumped my girlfriend when I graduated from ASU."

"Well, there are plenty of women in this town your age. I'm sure you'll make out alright." Elizabeth was anxious for Mrs. Blodgett to return from her phone call so that they could conclude their business and she could be on her way.

"Yeah, well, speaking of that. Too bad you're married. I'd make you my girlfriend." The lecherous grin surfaced, and she blushed at his round-about compliment; despite the awkwardness of the situation, her nipples hardened beneath her blouse. Thankfully, Mrs. Blodgett returned before the inappropriate conversation had gone any further and Zach had retreated into the depths of the house.

A week or so later, Elizabeth was on-line searching for a tee-shirt for her nephew, who was just turning one. She happened upon a website that sold all sorts of shirts with slogans on them. Many were vulgar and not appropriate for a one-year-old. Scrolling through the pages, she found one that intrigued her for its humor value. It made her think of Zach and, as a joke, she had ordered it.

* * *

Pulling herself from the memory, Elizabeth released the door knob and skipped up the stairs to her bedroom. She pulled the ratty tee-shirt over her head, careful not to disturb the blonde tresses she had gathered into a ponytail at the back of her head. She stepped into the walk-in closet and dug through the several bags that were piled beneath her rack of clothes. After rummaging through a few of them, tags still on the purchases, she found what she was looking for.

She held the tank top up in front of her, trying to judge what it would look like on her slight frame. She tore the tag from it and pulled it over her head, tugging the ponytail free. She adjusted the snug fabric so it sat properly on her slender torso, exposing two or three inches of bronzed flesh at her belly. Stepping in front of the full-length mirror, she surveyed her appearance: comfortable sandals on her manicured feet; the khaki shorts ending mid-thigh; the white, ribbed tank top with blue lettering across her substantial chest: "Define Married."

Satisfied that she looked presentable – a relative word, to be sure – Elizabeth bounded down the stairs, got into her car and drove through town toward the mountain pass road that led to the Blodgetts' home.

When she pulled into the driveway, she was not surprised to find Zach's dirty Jeep parked haphazardly in front of one of the garage doors. 'Probably went out and got drunk last night,' she thought, noticing that the front wheel of the off-road machine was, in fact, off-road, planted firmly in a flower bed.

Putting her car in Park, Elizabeth got out and walked up the path to the front door. She rang the doorbell once, twice. When no one responded, she opened the heavy oak door with the key the Blodgetts had provided her.

"Hello?" she called out, pausing in the slate-floored foyer. "Zach? Are you here? Zach?"

Nothing.

Shrugging, Elizabeth made her way down the long foyer toward Mr. Blodgett's office to see how the carpenters were coming along. She entered the dusty room, sunlight filtering in through dirty windows. Dust hung in the air, highlighted by intermittent rays of light, casting an unnatural glow throughout the room.

A workbench sat in the middle of the room, a pair of unused sawhorses next to it. Uncut wall panels lay on the floor. The carpenters had managed to mount four panels on the lower part of one of the walls.

Elizabeth picked her way across the room, careful to avoid nails, scraps of wood and other debris. She bent at the knees to check the fit between two of the panels. Satisfied, she scooted over to the next joint. Moving to the third, she heard the soft padding of feet outside the office just before a voice called out.

"Well, if it isn't my pretty little Mrs. Idaho."

Startled, Elizabeth jerked her head around, her ponytail swishing across her bare, tanned shoulders.

"Come to see me, Elizabeth?" Zach asked, that same lecherous grin creasing his features as he looked down and across the room at the pretty woman on her hands and knees.

"No, Zach, I'm not here to see you. I'm just checking on progress," she responded, getting to her feet, bending to brush sawdust from her dimpled knees.

"Mm-hm." He leaned against the doorframe. "Oh, by the way. Congratulations. My sister told me about your coronation. Is that what they call it, a coronation?"

Elizabeth straightened. "Thank you," she began as her eyes fell upon the young man.

He merely smirked at her.

"I uh . . . I . . . I rang the door bell but no one . . . no one answered," she stuttered, her bright blue eyes traveling down his perspiring, muscled body.

After a moment, she gathered her wits. "I just let myself in. I hope I didn't disturb you."

"No, not at all. Didn't even know you were here. I was just going back to my bedroom and heard some rustling around." He paused, craning his neck. "Whaddya got there?"

"What?" she asked, turning her head left then right, looking behind her.

"There," he said, pointing, moving closer to her. "On your tank. What's that say?"

Elizabeth looked down at her chest, fully aware of what was printed across her bulging breasts. She looked back up at him, standing only a few feet away from her now. Grasping the bottom hem of the tank top, she pulled it away from her body, causing the fabric to become taught. "It says, 'Define Married.'"

"Hmph." Zach crossed his arms across his sweaty, hairless chest. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well . . . nothing, I guess. I just . . . I thought it was funny. I ran across it on-line and I thought of what you said to me the last time I saw you." Elizabeth shifted her weight from one foot to the next. "I . . . uh . . . I thought I'd wear it . . . you know . . . uh . . . for you."

A look of concentration crossed Zach's unshaven features as he strained to remember their last exchange, but his memory failed him. "You got me, Elizabeth. What did I say to you last time?"

"You said, 'Too bad you're married.' Or something like that." She shifted back again, apprehensive.

Zach paused, considering. After a moment, he responded. "So, 'Define Married' means what? Everyone has their own definition of being married?"

"Yeah, I guess so." She paused, not sure of herself, or of why she was in this house on this day, wearing this tank top. "Sure."

"And what's your definition of being married, Mrs. Idaho? Was that one of the questions the judges asked you?" Always the smart-ass. He moved a little closer to her.

"No. That's not part of it." She nervously pulled at one of the straps of her tank top. "I just have to be married to be in the pageant. They don't really ask about the contestants' marriages."

Zach stepped closer to her and Elizabeth took a step back. She felt one of the sawhorses behind her and stopped, her arms extending behind her to brace herself against it. Her breasts thrust forward and swelled beneath the soft cotton fabric. She felt her nipples pushing against the cups of her bra.

"You still haven't answered my question. What's your definition of being married?" He eased closer to pretty woman, now just inches in front of her softly trembling body.

Elizabeth tilted her head to look up at him, her doe-like eyes nervous, dancing. With her left hand, she tucked a few loose strands of blond hair behind her ear, the diamond of her engagement ring sparkling in the cloudy light. "Well, I guess it means . . ." she began before Zach cut her off.

"Does it include being alone in a room with another man?"

"Uh . . . probably not," she stammered, the shake of her head barely perceptible, evidenced only by her swaying ponytail. A few locks of hair fell from behind her ear again.

"How 'bout with a kid who's half naked? Does that fit into the definition?"

She chuckled uneasily as Zach reached out and, with the back of his hand, brushed the hair from her pretty face. "Definitely not," she whispered, her eyes downcast, avoiding his intense gaze.

He leaned in and softly placed his lips on hers, breathing in her scent. Elizabeth raised a hand to his bare, damp chest and lightly pushed him back, away from her.

"Don't Zach," she ordered, her voice soft, meek. "It's not appropriate."

"'Not appropriate?'" he questioned, a hand moving to her hip. She squirmed slightly, as if to retreat from his touch, but his hand followed her, remaining planted firmly on her soft flank.

"If anything's not appropriate, it's this," he intoned, the forefinger of his other hand tracing lightly beneath the depraved words printed across her now-heaving chest.

"Please," she muttered. "Don't touch me like that."

"If anything's inappropriate, it's this," he repeated himself, this time with his finger tracing a soft circle around a hard nipple. He leaned in again and kissed her on the lips, more forcefully this time.

"And this," he breathed into her panting mouth, his fingers dancing across the soft top to her other breast, forefinger and thumb finding the other nipple, pinching it lightly.

Elizabeth's knees buckled and a moan escaped her throat.

Zach's lips parted and his tongue swiped across her soft, full lips, seeking entry to her warm mouth. His fingers took a stronger grip on her turgid nipple, increasing the pressure.

She groaned from deep in her throat and her lips parted, allowing Zach to slip his tongue into the parched confines of her mouth, finding her tongue waiting for him. Their tongues swiped at each other, seeking entanglement.

Elizabeth's heartbeat – and her breathing – increased as Zach manipulated her engorged nipple between his strong fingers, lightly pinching and twisting and tugging and pulling. Her knees felt rubbery and almost buckled when he briefly, slowly, twisted the nipple halfway around, distorting the soft flesh of her breast.

With soft pressure on her hip, Zach prodded her a few feet to her left, toward the work bench. Their lips still locked, tongues dancing, he pressed her against the table and released her nipple from this strong fingers. With both hands, he grabbed her bottom and gently lifted her to the table.

Elizabeth's legs part involuntarily and Zach stepped between them, pressing his sweaty body against her. The thrashing of their tongues became more insistent and their front teeth knocked against each other, her tanned arms wrapping tightly around his sweaty neck.

She breathed hard through her nostrils when Zack, with one hand, reached behind her head and pulled it into his own, their lips smashing, teeth grinding, tongues dueling. He twisted her flaxen ponytail around his fist and held her tight while his other hand kneaded the soft but firm flesh of her breast. Her nipples throbbed, aching to be released from her bra, and he felt one pressing against his palm. He strummed his fingers over it, feeling it thicken further, before grasping it between his fingers and twisting it gently, tugging it, pinching it.

"Oh, gawd," she moaned into his mouth, her hips slowly rotating atop the workbench.

Zach released his grasp on her ponytail and dropped his hand to her bottom, pulling her closer to him. Her legs parted further, widening the gap into which his sweaty body fit. His hand slowly traced along her lower back, caressing her flesh at the top of her shorts, sending shivers up her spine. The rocking of her hips increased, gently tugging her panties against her hypersensitive clitoris.

Encouraged by the way Mrs. Idaho was responding to his ministrations, Zach slid his hand up the back of her tank top, pulling the fabric up with it. The taste of her lip gloss lingered on his lips, on his tongue, and he felt the air expelling through her nostrils as she bucked her wildly gyrating hips at him.

His hand exited the back of her tank top at the neck line and he again took a fistful of hair. He gently yanked it down, causing their lips to separate, her head pulled back, exposing her slender neck. Elizabeth released her arms from around his neck and placed them behind her, palms down on the workbench, bracing herself.


Mrs. America Ch. 01



Zach planted light kisses across her smooth cheek, one hand still kneading her tremendous breast, the other resting lightly on her bare, quivering thigh. His lips found her ear and he licked the lobe lightly, blowing hot air across her ear canal. She shuddered at his manipulations.

Kissing down the line of her jaw, he dragged his moist lips across the top of her chest, pausing to dip his tongue into the cleavage protruding from the scooped neck of her tank top. She moaned, eager to feel the young man's lips, his tongue, on her neglected breasts. She screwed her eyes shut, her head hanging back, before Zach continued to her other ear.

Elizabeth shifted slightly, putting her weight on her right hand and the right side of her bottom. She slid her left hand between their bodies, tugging at the top of his bathing suit. It barely gave at all but she quickly found the drawstring and roughly pulled at it until it loosened. Her manicured nails dug into the knot and drew it free before diving beneath the waist band.

Zach groaned from deep in his throat as Elizabeth's cool fingers coursed through this pubic hair and curled around his overheated shaft. She pulled at him gently, the vein running along the underside of his cock pulsing against the palm of her tender hand.

His lips were at her ear, licking and nibbling and sucking and blowing. Goosebumps popped along her arms, across the top of her chest. He whispered to her. "Push 'em down."

She heeded his command, her fingers releasing the shaft and grasping the waistband of his bathing suit. She maneuvered the fabric over the young man's thighs and pushed at it until the bathing suit fell over his calves to a puddle at his ankles.

Zach's cock fell and slapped against her warm knee before bobbing up and down before him. She lifted her head and fixed her eyes on the shiny purple head, the scent of chlorine rising up and assaulting her senses. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft, continuing the gentle tug-and-pull that her husband so enjoys.

Zach seemed to enjoy it, as well. "God, I wanna fuck you," he groaned into her ear.

He pulled back a little and his hand left her breast, gliding down the full fabric-covered flesh and across her stomach. He gently pulled at the button fastening the front of her shorts and, when it didn't give, tugged harder. The button popped and the zipper easily slid down, almost of its own volition.

He yanked at the left side of her shorts, pulling them down over her soft, pliant hip. He then tapped her right hip. Elizabeth rolled her hips, freeing the right side of her shorts, and Zach pulled them down. With both hands now, he managed to guide her shorts over her supple thighs and soft, dimpled knees. With a wiggle of her legs, they fell off her feet to the saw-dust covered floor, taking her sandals with them.

Insistent now, eager to feel the young man's cock in her overheated and damp vagina, Elizabeth threw her arms around him, leaning into him. Zach reached between them and guided the head of his cock toward the opening of her womanhood. With two fingers wrapped around the head, he used his two free fingers to ease her panties aside.

Preparing for his penetration, Elizabeth scooted her hips toward the edge of the workbench, then reached between them, moving Zach's hand out of the way. She wrapped her fist around his trembling shaft and coaxed the fiery head up and down the furrow created by the full labia that stood guard at the entrance to her vagina, slickening it with her feminine juices.

Before she could pull him into her, Zach eased his hips forward. The blunt head of his cock bumped gently but firmly against her saturated lips but then slid up and over her engorged clit.

"Uugghh," she moaned, eyes slamming shut at the exquisite sensations that coursed through her veins. The nerves in her fingers and toes tingled and snapped and her nipples throbbed.

Zach withdrew his hips enough to allow his cock to ease back into the furrow of her pussy, and then thrust his hips at the quivering woman. The head lodged firmly between her slick lips and he thrust again, reveling in the sensation of her full labia parting around his invading cock head, allowing him entry.

He paused a moment, letting her fluids trickle from between her lips and further saturate his head. He then flicked his hips at her, sending half the length of his shaft into her sopping pussy.

"Uuuugggghhhh," came the groan from her throat. She smashed her lips against his, her tongue assaulting his lips, his teeth, his tongue. She held him tight, nearly lifting herself off the workbench as she slammed her pelvic bone against his, embedding the full length of his shaft in her overheated hole.

"Oh, fuck," Zach groaned, his pubic hair crushing against her sodden crotch. The fabric of her panties dragging along his shaft as he withdrew gave him no pause, and when just the head remained ensconced between her slippery lips, he slammed his hips back into her.

In rapid succession, Zach fucked his cock in and out of Elizabeth's tight cunt three, four, five times. Her lips parted at his mouth in a silent scream and she threw her head back, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck the only thing keeping her from collapsing on the work bench.

Fully buried in her, Zach held his cock there, her inflamed clit crushed between their pubic bones. Slowly, forcefully, he rotated his hips against her, the pressure of his pelvis, the coarseness of his pubic hair, agitating her already twitching clit.

"Aaaggghhh," she managed, her voice catching.

Zach felt Elizabeth's supple thighs close around his hips in a vice-like grip. Her well-defined calves bumped against the cool, damp flesh of his ass and her soft heels knocked against the bottom of his ass cheeks. Her body went stock still.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

"Uuuuuggggghhhhh!!!!!" It came from deep within her. From her lungs. From her stomach.

Her legs released, trembling in the air behind his back.

Fluid seeped and then poured from the tight seal her cunt lips formed around his pulsing shaft.

Her cuntal walls contracted around him. Again.

"Jesus Christ," she breathed heavily, kicking one of her velvety heels into his ass. "Keep fucking me."

Zach withdrew his cock, her cunt juices pouring out with his withdrawal, darkening the surface of the workbench.

"Keep . . . fucking . . . me! . . . I'm still . . . still . . . cumming!" Her arms tightened around Zach's neck, her pink manicured nails digging into his sweaty flesh.

He quickly placed a hand on her sweat-sheened ass cheeks to hold her steady as he sliced back into her, his pubic hair crushed between them.

"Yyyeeesss," she hissed, her head jerking up, blond locks escaping the ponytail and whipping around her sweaty head and plastering themselves to her cheeks. "Oh, ffuucckk!" she groaned as Zach continued his assault on her sopping cunt.

Elizabeth's body continued to jerk, her hips thrashing against the young man's pelvic bone. As her erratic movements slowed, so too did Zach's.

Elizabeth lessened her grip on his neck and eased herself back onto the palms of her hands. She breathed heavily, her chest rising and falling with each breath, large breasts bobbing beneath her tank top. "Holy shit," she managed, smoothing damp tresses from her cheek.

Zach slowed his pace so that he was barely even fucking her anymore. He looked down at the woman before him. Sweat darkened her blond hair, plastered it to her skull. Lip gloss was smeared from her lips and a bead of sweat trickled down her perspiration-slickened chest before disappearing into her cleavage beneath the tank top.

"So nice," she breathed, her breath beginning to return to normal.

Zach gently withdrew his cock from her cunt and bent at the waist, capturing a thick nipple between his teeth, the cotton dry in his already arid mouth. "But this isn't," he said, tugging at the silky panties, the hem of which had been rubbing against the flesh of his shaft while he was fucking her. He reached out, asking for her hand.

Elizabeth pushed herself forward and placed her left hand in his, and he helped her ease off the workbench. He led her from the office and down the hallway to his bedroom, her engagement ring pressing into his palm as he squeezed her hand in his.

Releasing her hand while still walking, Zach turned and fell backward onto his bed, arranging himself on his back so that he was situated in the middle of it. Pulling her panties down her lightly-muscled thighs and stepping out of them, Elizabeth followed him, the mattress noiseless as she straddled the young man in his bedroom that she had recently redecorated, over his objection if she recalled correctly.

"How do you like your room now?" she teased him, rising up and reaching between their bodies. Her slender fingers found his shaft, still engorged and still coated in her juices, and she rubbed the head of it against her well-used cunt.

"I think . . ." he began.

He was rudely interrupted when Elizabeth abruptly dropped her hips, impaling herself on his spear all the way to the balls.

"Mmmm," he continued, but this time in a moan.

Sitting upright on the young man, the head of his cock forcing the walls of her pussy wide, stretching her cunt lips around the base of his shaft, Elizabeth rocked back and forth, her hands braced on his bare, hairless chest. Her fingers splayed across his flesh, curling in so that her long nails dug into this flesh.

Moaning at the tight grip her cunt held on his cock, Zach's hands slid slowly up her lithe thighs and over her hips, pausing to knead the pliant flesh, before grasping her ass cheeks and pulling her pelvis tighter against his, crushing her fiery clit between them. Elizabeth let herself fall forward, her slender fingers sliding up his pectoral muscles and over his shoulders before planting themselves on the mattress, either hand beside his head.

His hands left her firm ass cheeks and tickled their way up her torso, circling around to cup her swaying breasts through the tank top that still covered her upper body.

"Know what I like more?" he muttered, raising his head off the mattress to suck one of the thick nipples through the fabric.

"What?" she whispered as he lowered his head back to the bed.

The thumbs and forefingers of each hand closed around the burning nipples, gently at first, then with greater pressure. Elizabeth flicked her hips and breathed sharply at the young man's manipulation of her adulterous body.

"Your definition of 'married.'" With that, Zach arched his back, sending his cock deep into Elizabeth's saturated cunt, almost bucking her off him.

She quickly sat upright and the jerking of her hips ceased. She pounded a closed fist against his chest once. "Shut up about that," she hissed, not wanting a reminder of her infidelity (as if one was really needed at this stage in the day).

Zach threw his arms over his head defensively, playfully. "Hey, it's not . . ."

Elizabeth pointed a long finger at him and moved it closer to his mouth. The pink manicured nail glided over his lips. "I said shut up about that." Her voice was softer now, and Zach sealed his lips, as if to signal he was done talking.

When she relaxed, when she resumed rotating her cunt around his cock, Zach suddenly twisted beneath her, tossing her to the side. He followed and found himself between her legs, his shaft still embedded in her. He grabbed the married woman by the wrists, pinning her arms above her head.

A look of mild irritation briefly crossed her features. It quickly dissolved when Zach withdrew his cock from her dripping cunt, holding just the head inside the cradle of her vaginal lips. With quick, short jabs, he fucked just the head inside her and Elizabeth squirmed beneath him, trying to pull more of the shaft inside her.

Hovering above her, Zach laughed as she frowned at the emptiness she felt, her hips still writhing. "Whatsa matter, Mrs. Idaho?"

"Put it back in me," she whined. "Put that cock back in me . . . please."

Moving his hips slowly, drawing out her agony, Zach slowly lowered himself into her. He moved with such deliberate slowness that he could feel the musculature of her cunt part and stretch as each inch of his cock sank back into her.

"Yyyeeesss," she hissed, her eyes screwed shut. "Soooo nnniiiccceee."

Before Elizabeth could revel in her fullness for too long, Zach withdrew again, allowing his cock to pop from her distended labia. Her cunt gaped open but gradually eased closed as the muscles within attempted to grip at something, anything.

"Ooohhh," she whined again. She raised her lithe legs into the air, soft heels digging into the young man's ass, prodding him to re-enter her cunt.

"Want me back in your pussy, Mrs. Idaho?" he teased the trembling woman.

"Yyeess," she hissed, her glistening eyes easing open to lock on his.

"Say it," he commanded, amusement evident in his smiling eyes.

"I want . . . you in . . . me," Elizabeth panted, her smooth heels again prodding him.

Zach sat back on his haunches and took his cock into his own hand. He lightly tapped the shiny purple head against her fluttering cunt lips. "In . . . you . . . where?" he taunted, smacking his cock head sharply against her clit with each word.

"Uuuggghhh," she groaned, her sweaty hips twisting and turning beneath the assault.

"In . . . my," she began before he interrupted her.

"In your Mrs. Idaho hole. Say it!"

"Oohh, ggaawwdd," Elizabeth moaned, reaching between their bodies and grasping Zach's swollen shaft, pulling it toward her splayed lips.

"Say it!"

"Fuck . . . my . . . Mrs. . . . Idaho . . . cunt," she panted.

The anguish apparent in her features, in her voice, evaporated as Zach brutally thrust his hips forward, sending the full length of his shaft crashing into her cunt.

"Aaaggghhh," she screamed, her head lolling back and forth as the young man held his cock in her at the root, his pelvic bone again mashing her engorged clit, torturing it, abusing the raw flesh.

He fell atop her, his arms snaking beneath hers to wrap around her shoulders, providing him leverage as he jackhammered his shaft into her yielding hole.

"Is this . . . how you . . . define . . . marriage?" he grunted into her ear, his hot breath sending shivers up her spine. "Fucking . . . young men . . . behind . . . your husband's . . . back?"

"Uugghh," was her only response, her cunt lips stretched tightly around her client's son's shaft.

Burying his cock inside her, Zach held himself there again, savagely rotating his hips against the adulterous woman, his coarse pubic hair scraping at her overly sensitive clit.

"I bet . . . the pageant . . . wouldn't . . . approve," he taunted, nipping at her earlobe.

"I . . . don't . . . care," she groaned, her voice hoarse now. Zach began fucking her roughly, pulling harshly at her shoulders as his shaft sliced mercilessly in and out of her ravaged hole. Sweat poured down his cheeks, dripping off his chin, commingling with her own.

Elizabeth's long, lithe legs circled tightly around the young man's waist, holding him tight, her dainty feet bouncing with each of his thrusts, the tender soles slapping against his ass cheeks.

With her soft body trying to wrap itself around him, Zach's breathing turned erratic and his thrusts lost their rhythm. Sperm churned in his tightening balls and he squeezed his eyes shut, his mind on the verge of loosing control of his body.

"I'm . . . gonna . . . cum," he managed.

Elizabeth loosened her legs' grasp his Zach's body and she tried to push him off of her. "Not . . . in . . . me!" she screamed. "Don't . . . cum . . . inside . . . me."

But Zach was having none of it. He held fast to the adulterous wife's shoulders and his twitching cock remained buried in her saturated hole.

"Yeah," he moaned. "Inside . . . you . . . gonna cum . . . inside . . . Mrs. Idaho!"

"No . . . please no!" Elizabeth moaned, twisting her pliant hips in a vain effort to escape Zach's dripping, pulsing shaft.

"Uugghh," he grunted, burying his cock in her to its root. Beneath his shaft, his balls jumped and unleashed a torrent of sperm. It coursed through the length of his shaft, spitting into the well of her cunt, splashing against her sodden walls.

"Oohh, ffuucckk," he breathed between shots of sperm. His body quivered, jerking violently, as another stream of cum blasted from the tip of his cock, coating the convulsing tunnel of Elizabeth's cunt.

Zach threw his head back, sweat dripping of his chin and falling to Elizabeth's chest and make-up smeared face below him. "Yeah!" he bellowed. His hips snapped again as yet a third surge of cum filled her hole.

"Maybe . . . you'll be . . . pregnant . . . for . . . Mrs. America," he groaned through gritted teeth as the jerking of his body slowed.

He abruptly pulled his spasming shaft from Elizabeth's hole and planted the head atop her clit, sliding his fist down his length. Another stream of cum oozed out, getting caught up in the small patch of pubic hair that resided above her exposed clit. Slowly, it dripped through the downy thatch and oozed down the crease between her inner thigh and cunt.

The reality of what he had just done to her slammed into Elizabeth's gut like a bowling ball and she violently shoved the young man off her and scrambled to her feet. She made her way to his bathroom and Zach heard her mumbling beneath her breath. "Fuckin' asshole."

The door slammed shut and he heard the toilet seat being lifted. He wiped the sweat from his brow on the comforter that Elizabeth had picked out when she redecorated his room.

Without waiting for her to return from the bathroom, he exited his bedroom and, still naked, padded through the house toward the great room and out to the pool. As he dove in, washing his sweat and their combined secretions from his body, he was unaware that Elizabeth would be the first woman in the history of the Mrs. America pageant to walk the runway with a reported life growing inside her belly.



Mrs. America Ch. 02



"Well, how about it?" she asked, taking his drink from his hand and tipping it into her filthy mouth.

"Uh, yeah, I think . . . uh . . . it looks like you know what uh. . . what boys like," he sputtered, watching Tracy as she placed her cup and his on the bar.

She turned back toward him and grabbed the kid's hand, pulling him behind her as she marched toward the entrance.

"Um . . . aren't you going to . . . well," he stammered. "What's . . . uh . . . your name?"

"Just call me Mrs. Texas," she shouted over her shoulder as they weaved in and out of the crowd.

"I'm . . ." he began before she abruptly came to a halt and spun on her heel. She placed a long manicured nail over his lips, shushing him.

"I don't really care who you are, got it?" she said as sweetly as possible. "Your name is not really relevant to the purpose you serve."

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and he floated on behind her, his eyes locked on the red silk skirt covering her tight ass as she sashayed through the bar toward the entrance.

When she and her boy-toy approached the two bitches, still at the bar, Tracy stopped and pulled the kid to her side. "Hey, ladies. Thought I'd say goodbye," she teased with a short wave of her elegant hand. She moved to leave, then stopped, reconsidering. "By the way, you know how long it took me to get this kid to follow me out of the bar?" she inquired, tilting her head toward her plaything.

Neither of the girls responded, other than with looks of hatred thrown toward the older, big-breasted tramp.

"No? Well let me tell you, then. Ten minutes. It took me all of ten minutes to land this hunk of meat." She laughed in mock pity for the college girls and shook her head. "Tits, girls. I know what boys like, and boys like tits. Big ones. Like these," she taunted the girls, thrusting her chest at them. She then turned and walked off, pulling the kid behind her, a pair of "Fuck yous" following in her wake.

Out on the street, Tracy slowed her pace and walked down the street with the kid at her side, holding hands as though they were lovers. She squeezed his hand in hers, her engagement ring digging into his palm. She giggled like a kid in a candy store. "This is going to be so awesome," she told the kid. He laughed, too, but there was a twinge of nervousness in his.

Five minutes later, the unlikely pair stood on the corner of Brazos and 6th, waiting for a police officer to wave them across the street.

"Hold on," the kid said. "I need to run into the Seven-Eleven."

"For what?" she asked, nonplussed at anything that might delay her treat.

He looked around, clearly embarrassed. "Rubbers," he mouthed.

Tracy tilted her head back and laughed lightly. "Rubbers?" she asked rhetorically. "You don't need any rubbers, silly." She held her ring finger in front of his face and wiggled her slim fingers. "I'm a married lady, not some common slut."

He was too intimated to argue.

The officer waved those on the corner across the street and Tracy and her toy crossed with the crowd and walked through the hotel's entrance. It was 10:00 and the lobby was largely deserted as they boarded the elevator. When the doors swished open on her floor, she led the kid down the hallway to her room and paused by the door. She fished the keycard from her clutch and handed it to him.

"You should always open the door for a lady," she said with a smile.

Nervously, he took the keycard and inserted it, his big hand shaking. When the door finally clicked, he started to push it open, but she wrapped her slender fingers around his forearms, her long, red nails digging into his young flesh, preventing him from moving into the room.

"But I have to warn you. Once I walk into that room, I'm no longer a lady." She paused, searching for understanding in his eyes. She didn't see any.

"That means you don't treat me like a lady. Got it? No tenderness. No romance. No lovey-dovey. No sleeping over. When we get in that room, you are going to fuck the living Christ out of me." He gulped at her depraved language, her filthy tongue. "You're going to stick that cock in me and abuse me with it. Any hole. All holes. I don't care. And when you're done, you're going to cum all over me. Are we clear?"

The kid could only nod his head.

"All over me, I said. Not inside me. On me. On my stomach. On my tits. On my face. I don't care. Just on me."

He nodded again, his knees weak.

"And after that, you leave. No cuddling. No spooning. You get dressed, and you leave."

When Tracy was confident that he understood his role, she released her death grip on his arm and prodded him into the suite with a tap on his rear-end. She closed the door behind her and slid the bolt lock home with a loud thud.

She strutted into the living area behind him and eased her lustful body around his, making sure her inflated tits dragged across his muscular bicep. She slid into the corner of the couch and draped one leg over the rolled arm, the other she lifted up to the back of the couch. With little shame, she lifted the little red silk skirt, exposing her pantiless and hairless crotch the kid.

She ran the manicured forefinger of her left hand down and then back up the furrow of her already slick cunt. With her nail poised just above her clit, lightly tapping it, she beckoned the kid over to the couch with her free hand. "Get over here and lick this thing," she ordered, the diamonds of her wedding band and engagement ring sparkling in the soft light cast from the lamp next to the couch.

The kid, eager to please, moved around the coffee table and fell to his knees. Draping his frame along the seat cushion, he planted light kisses along Tracy's inner thighs, following the routine he had followed so many times before with his conquests.

Tracy was having none of it. "I'm already wet for you. You don't need to seduce me," she informed him, the exasperation clear in her voice. Her finger still poised at her clit, she grabbed the back of his head with her free hand, her long nails scraping along his scalp, and guided his mouth over her clit.

Tentatively, the kid's tongue darted from between his lips and licked at her clit. Tracy jerked on the first contact of tongue to clit, sending her sopping cunt smashing into the kid's face. After a few swipes of his tongue, encouraged by Tracy's bucking, the kid's licks became more insistent. He buried his face between the married woman's thighs, his arms circling around her taut legs to brace himself -- and her -- against her penchant for slamming her cunt into his face.

Within minutes, Tracy was writhing under her toy's ministrations, moans escaping her still perfectly made-up, bright red lips. His tongue alternately slithered over her clit and sunk down between her saturated, hairless labia. Her left hand joined her right at the back of the kid's head, massaging his scalp as his tongue danced across her clit and cunt lips.

"Put a finger in me," she groaned while his tongue flicked rapidly against her inflamed bud. "Yyeess . . . that's it . . . yeah!"

She squirmed beneath the young man, his tongue dancing across her swollen clit, a finger sawing in and out of her now sloppy hole.

"Another," she squeaked when her toy trapped the clit between his lips and sucked hard. "Another." Breathless.

The kid decided to skip ahead by one play and instead of inserting a second finger into the cheating slut's hole, he added both a second and third, his fingers bending in on each other as he slowly worked them into her tight hole.

"Oohh ffuucckk," Tracy squealed at the intrusion. The kid's tongue tripped into overdrive against her clit, flattening out against it then quickly flicking back and forth before sucking the blood-engorged nub of flesh between his lips and teeth.

Tracy's squirms quickly devolved into bucks and thrashes. Her ass lifted off the seat cushion as she tried to feed her entire cunt into the kid's mouth. His three fingers remained lodged in her hole, twisting and thrusting in and out of her lips while his young tongue tortured her trembling clit.

"Uuuugggghhh!!!!" she wailed, her head thrashing from side to side. Perspiration had formed along her forehead and above her upper lip, across the top of her substantial chest, and the onslaught of her orgasm turned the somewhat lady-like perspiration into full blown sweat. As her athletic body convulsed at the hands of the young man she had only met an hour ago, sweat soaked her hair, plastering it to her forehead and cheeks. It ran down the cleavage formed by her mammoth tits, turning the black fabric of her baby-doll even darker, fat nipples insistent against the damp cotton.

Quick, sharp jerks of Tracy's hips sent her cunt crashing against the kid's face. His eyes watered as her pubic bone slammed against his nose, but he maintained his assault on the woman's cunt as it convulsed through her orgasm, her fluids flowing liberally from between her loosened lips.

As her body settled back into the couch, his tongue slowed its pace and he gradually eased his fingers from her saturated pussy.

"Whew!" she said through hooded eyes, a satisfied smile creasing the features around her sensuous mouth.

Proud, the kid pushed himself from between Tracy's legs and moved up to sit on the couch, slouching against the cushions as though he were exhausted. Next to him, she laid there for a few more minutes, allowing her heartbeat to slow and her breathing to return to normal. She pulled her right foot off the back of the couch and removed the open-toed heel from it, dropping the shoe on the floor next to her; she did the same with her left foot before rising.

Wiggling her hips, Tracy eased the silk skirt over her supple hips and taut thighs before stepping out of it. Feminine juices shined on her inner thighs as she casually tossed the skirt aside and climbed back on the couch, this time straddling the kid. She planted her groin over his, thrilled at the feeling of his young cock bulging through his cargo shorts. She bent her head and placed her full lips close to his; he came the rest of the way, softly brushing his lips against hers.

"What did I tell you?" she murmured into his mouth.

His tongue gently probed at her lips, seeking entry to the wet heat of her mouth.

She pulled back abruptly and took his chin in the palm of her hand, her bright red nails digging into his jaw line. "No gentleness. No lovey-dovey," she whispered, her face hovering less than an inch from his. "If you're going to kiss me, do it right. Do it hard. Don't wait for me to allow your tongue in my mouth. Jam it in there."

Without hesitating, her toy followed her command. He grabbed the back of her head, pulling her bronzed face roughly into his, his fingers entwining in her lustrous mane. His tongue invaded her lips, slipping easily into the warmth of her mouth, tongues thrashing against each other, teeth gnashing.

"There you go," she grunted into his mouth. "Mmmmm."

Tracy moved up the young man's body, bending her neck to keep their tongues intertwined, and rotated her hairless cunt against his shirt-covered stomach, soaking it in her juices. She slid her groin back down his body, her clit catching on his belt buckle, a groan escaping from deep in her slender throat at the cool metal stimulating her overheated nub.

She continued to slide down the young body until she was on her dimpled knees before him. She pushed him back into the couch, their mouths separating. She dragged her slender fingers down his developing chest, tweaking his nipples between her manicured fingers along the way.

Lifting his tee-shirt out of the way, she used her nails to coax his belt from the buckle, her sparkling emerald eyes locked on her manipulating fingers.

"Why Mrs. Texas?" the kid breathed while Tracy pulled the prong from the hole in the belt.

Her bright eyes rose to meet his. "Why what?" she asked, pulling the tongue of the belt from the buckle.

"Why Mrs. Texas?" he repeated. "Why do you want me to call you Mrs. Texas?"

A lecherous grin clouded her features. "Because I am," she answered, pulling the button of his shorts from the hole. "Because I AM Mrs. Texas."

His zipper descending broke the calm silence of the suite, the only sound aside from her still erratic breaths.

"I don't get it," he pressed, lifting his hips off the seat cushion as Tracy pulled his shorts -- and the boxers along with them -- down his ass and over his thighs.

"It's a beauty pageant," she answered, yanking the shorts and boxers over his knees and down his calves, pulling his shoes off.

"For married women," she continued, her eyes floating up to the thick cock that stood proudly from the kid's groin.

Resting on her haunches, Tracy's hands slid slowly up the kid's thighs, her nails tickling the light hairs that covered his flesh. She used her right hand to push his left thigh to the side while her left hand moved up and cradled his heavy balls. Her focus was intense as she kneaded the sac between her slender fingers, dragging her nails across the soft, tender flesh.

She wrapped her hand around his balls, then slid her fist up his shaft. A sly smile appeared at her lips when her tightly gripping fingers reached the crown of his cock and a thick glob of pre-cum oozed from the head. She used the soft pad of her forefinger to smooth the natural lubricant around the head, dragging it back down the length of his shaft.

"And you . . . oh god . . . you won?" he asked, nestling himself into the back of the couch.

"Yeah . . . I won," she responded, her voice barely audible. Her eyes never strayed from the veiny shaft. She lifted herself off her haunches, moving her pretty, tanned face over the purple head of his cock.

"And you're about . . . to get your cock sucked," she began, dipping her head and running her soft tongue up one side of his shaft, "by the perfect . . . Texas wife."

Tracy chuckled inwardly at the irony of that pronouncement. Earlier this year, a group of judges had anointed her Mrs. Texas, the embodiment of all that should be expected of a Texan wife: a doting mother of her children; a pillar of the community; active in social issues important to Texas; and, above all, a loving and faithful wife.

Yet here she was, in downtown Austin, her husband at home a short drive to the northwest. She had just allowed a stranger -- a college kid, no less -- to lick and fingerfuck her to a mind-shattering orgasm and now she was on her knees about to engulf his thick cock in her warm mouth, her wedding band flashing in his face.

Tracy's shiny lips parted into a rough oval and she slipped them over the thick, superheated head of her toy's cock. With just the head ensconced in her warm, wet mouth, she swirled her tongue around it, poking at the slit at its apex.

"Oohh ggaawwdd," the kid groaned as Tracy's right hand slithered beneath his thighs to cradle and knead his sperm-filled balls. With the sac gripped tightly in her fist, she lowered her soft, full lips over the length of his shaft again. When the head of his cock bumped against the back of her throat, she gagged slightly, but wiggled her head a little, coaxing the head into her throat.

"Uunngghh," he whimpered as Tracy swallowed, her throat constricting around his shaft. His strong hands clutched at the cushions, his knuckles turning white.

Her eyes watered and she quickly pulled her spit-soaked lips up the length of the college student's shaft, sucking air into her lungs. Her left hand encircled the slick cock, stroking it harshly, while she caught her breath. She dipped her head between his thighs and, releasing her hand's grip on his balls, sucked one and then the other into her hot, wet mouth, rolling his nuts around on the edge of her tongue.

Overcome with lust, with the sinfulness of her conduct, Tracy buried her face in the kid's groin. She inhaled deeply the scent of his sweaty flesh, shoving her face into his taut nutsack, slobbering over it, saliva pouring from her mouth as her tongue sought to bathe the baby-soft flesh.

Above her, the kid squirmed on the couch. His eyes were locked on the blur created by her bright red nails and sparkling engagement ring as her left fist shucked up and down the length of him. The head of his cock shone bright, all purple and shiny and smooth.

Tracy lowered her head further, her right hand pulling the cum-laden balls aside, and her tongue tickled at his perineum.

He jumped at the sensation, caught off-guard by the foreign sensation. Unfamiliar as it was, he welcomed it, savored the sensations that ran through his cock and his balls, that turned his stomach upside down and inside out.

"Uuuugggghhhh!" he groaned when the tip of Tracy's tongue massages the ridges of his perineum. His left hand released its death-grip on the cushion and wrapped itself in her hair, holding her beauty-queen face deep in his sweat and saliva soaked crotch. But he wasn't prepared for what happened next.

Her raven locks gripped fiercely in her toy's fist, pulling her adulterous face against his hanging balls, Tracy's silky tongue darted from between her sweet lips and wetly washed over the student's asshole.

"Aaaahhhh!!!" he nearly yelped, his fat cock throbbing in her tightly gripping fist. His balls tightened and jumped against her sweaty cheek before she quickly withdrew her tongue, pulling it back into the warm cavern of her mouth.

"Uugghh," the kid grunted, aching for release. "What are doin' to me?" His voice was almost a whine.

Tracy laughed lightly as she regained her feet. She tossed one leg over his lap, straddling his sturdy thighs. Slowly, she squatted down on him. Peering between her massive breasts, her bright eyes locked on the blood-engorge head of his cock resting against his stomach. She adjusted her hips slightly, positioning her dripping cunt above the fat tube of flesh, and lowered herself further, trapping the shaft in the overheated channel formed by her hairless labia.

Her hips rotating sensuously, she glided the slick lips of her cunt up and down the length of the kid's shaft, saturating it in her juices. The thick, rubbery head rubbed across her clit with each movement and she braced herself against his chest, her bright red nails gathering the cotton of his tee-shirt in her fists.

Before an orgasm overtook her, Tracy slowed her movement and roughly yanked the tee-shirt up and over his stomach and then his chest. "Come on, lean forward," she commanded the kid impatiently.

Awkwardly, he pushed himself away from the back of the couch and Tracy pulled the shirt over his head. She then leaned her lithe body against his, her blown-up tits still encased in the red silk bra and black baby doll. Her fingers wrapped around the back of his head, nails scraping against his scalp.

"Wanna drink from Mrs. Texas's milk jugs?" she taunted the college student, smashing one of her milk-jug covered fake tits into his face. Without waiting for a response, she leaned back, sitting upright on his lap, his cock ensconced in the slick, hot folds of her cunt, and reached behind her. Her hands disappeared beneath the baby doll and emerged a moment later pulling her 36D bra from beneath the tee-shirt.

Tracy leaned over the young man again, her now-braless tits hanging in his face. Her right hand roughly grabbed the back of his head, clutching his short-cropped hair. "Come on, boy-toy," she whispered wickedly, "take a sip."

The kid hesitated for a moment, again unbalanced by this woman's brazen recklessness. She took his hands in hers and placed them at the hem of the baby doll, coaxing him to lift it.

Taking the cue, the kid slowly raised the fabric over Tracy's stomach, dragging it up and over her rib cage. He struggled to pull it over her augmented tits, resorting to pulling the fabric toward him in an attempt to clear the inflated globes of saline-packed flesh. Tracy leaned into him again as soon as the shirt rose over the thickened nipples.




Mrs. America Ch. 02



He was taken by surprise as Tracy's swollen nipples came into view. With a final upward tug, the tight fabric lifted above the woman's chest just as she seemed to fall against him. Her massive tits nearly jumped off her chest, falling against his clean-shaven face.

The kid opened his mouth to slurp a distended nipple between his teeth when Tracy abruptly adjusted herself. Before his lips closed down on the thick nub crowning her left tit, she nudged the head of his cock between her swollen cunt lips and viciously slammed her cunt down the entire length of his shaft, impaling herself. His pubic hair tickled her bald labia and engorged clit.

Tracy felt the kid's cock invading the depths of her cunt, shoving her vital organs aside, and she let out a groan the emanated from deep in her throat.

His hands went to her hips, pulling the pliant flesh toward his thrusting pelvic, burying his pulsating shaft deeper in the woman's wet hole.

"Play with my tits!" she commanded, pulling an aroused and now spit-slicked nipple from his sucking lips. Her cunt stretched to accommodate the fat shaft as it skewered her little body.

He released the married woman's hips and slid his meaty hands up her taut ribcage. They circled around her luscious body and he tried in vain to capture to fullness of her oversized tits in his palms. He kneaded the firm flesh, her hardened nipples digging into the soft palms of his hands.

Above him, Tracy shuddered as her nipples were crushed against the young man's hands. She leaned back, resting her tight ass cheeks against his pumping thighs, and reached behind her, her hand searching for the kid's swinging nut sack.

He groaned as his thick fingers sunk into her flesh, the sweaty flesh oozing between his fingers.

"Pinch them," she commanded, her voice steady but intense. "Pinch 'em."

Her tits thrust forward by her arched back, the kid roughly squeezed and manipulated the augmented mounds that wobbled on her otherwise slim torso before trapping the turgid nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, pinching lightly.

The up-and-down of her soaked cunt on his bloated cock and the sweat the slickened her chest made her nipples difficult to grip, so the kid pinched them harder, trapping the blood-engorged teats between his thumbs and the first knuckle of his forefingers. 

The pressure on her nipples was exquisite and Tracy quivered at his treatment of her. "Oh, fuck," she grunted, biting hard on the last word. "Yyeeaahh . . . harder . . . harder! Tug 'em . . . pull 'em . . . uuugggghhhhh!!!!"

She ground her flooded cunt against the young man's pubic bone, crushing her inflamed clit between their gyrating bodies.

"Harder!" she cried, tossing her head back, her hands braced on the kid's sweaty, muscled thighs to prevent herself from falling backwards and dislodging the glorious hunk of meat from her needy cunt.

He responded by not merely pinching the burning and bloated buds but by twisting them, tugging them toward the outside of her body, distorting the deep pink flesh that was her areole.

"Ooohhh, gggaaawwwddd," Tracy shuddered, her well-used cunt muscles tightening and contracting around the young kid's cock. Her thighs burned as she pulled her dripping hole up the length of his shaft, her distended lips clinging grotesquely to the ridged flesh. Her legs failed her and she fell back to his lap, impaling herself to the root of his cock again, her burning clit smashed and pulverized between their respective pubic bones.

Tracy threw herself forward, burying her face in the kid's neck, her hips quaking against his as a second orgasm crashed through her body. He maintained his vice-grip on her bloated nipples, tugging at them ruthlessly as the married woman squirmed on his lap. "Yyyyyeeeesssss!!!!!" she hissed, the muscles of her cunt continuing to strangle the young man's shaft. "Yyyeeeessss . . . milk . . . those . . . Texas-sized . . . tits . . . pull . . . on . . . them . . . harder!!"

Her body jerked atop his, sweat dripping off her chin, running in thick rivulets between her cleavage. "Oh fuck," she muttered, softer this time as her orgasm ran its course. "So . . . fuckin' . . . gooooood."

Her hips slowed to an even grind, her clit extra sensitive as the kid's pubic hair coursed over it. He continued tugging on her nipples, more gentle now. She expelled breath from deep in her lungs as the remains of the massive orgasm subsided.

"Jesus," she laughed, pushing herself upright, her bright red nails tracing along the kid's muscled chest. "You made me cum like a little whore."

Tracy felt the thick shaft twitch deep in her sopping cunt and smiled. Rather than grinding her pubic bone against the young man, her legs powered her body up and almost off him, leaving just the angry purple head buried between her full cunt lips. The thumb and forefinger of her left hand closed around the base of his shaft and she squeezed hard.

"Betcha wanna cum, huh?" she whispered, a lecherous grin creasing her beauty queen features.

"Yeah," the kid grunted, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to fuck his veiny cock through the tight ring formed by her fingers.

"Not yet, sweetie," she soothed, lifting herself all the way off him, her cunt lips now hanging open, stretched wide. She lifted a leg over the kid so that she was no longer straddling him and lowered herself back into the couch.

His eyes eased open when his cock slapped against his taut stomach and he felt Tracy removing herself from his lap. Though hooded, they followed her as she eased herself into the corner of the couch.

Tracy's long, manicured fingers slid up her trim torso, coursing over the barely defined ribs before enveloping -- well, trying to envelop -- her inflated tits. She pushed them together, her bright red nails sinking into the squishy flesh and creating a deep cleavage. "Why don't you get up here and fuck these things?" she asked rhetorically.

Tracy's toy rotated his body along the couch and he crawled up her marvelous body, pausing to run his young tongue up the hairless crease between her left thigh and her groin, his white teeth then nibbling at an engorged nipple.

He continued to shuffle up her body and Tracy's warm, pink tongue darted out and licked his chest and then his stomach when he stopped, the thick, dripping shaft nuzzling between the two inflamed nipples. She relaxed the pressure on her tits, the cavern opening up and allowing the young shaft to fall within.

As soon as Tracy felt the sticky cock bang against her breastbone, she lifted her head slightly, spit a wad of saliva between her tits and shoved them together again, interlacing her fingers such that her engagement ring and wedding band hovered over the pulsing shaft.

Her dazzling emerald eyes floated up to his and a sly smile parted her smeared, full lips. "Cum on my Texas-sized tits, boy-toy," she demanded, sliding the full globes forcefully down the length of his shaft.

Above her, his eyes slammed shut at the exquisite sensation occasioned upon him as the soft, warm flesh engulfed his aching cock. Involuntarily, he jerked his muscular hips, sending the engorged tube up and through the overheated cleavage. The shiny, smooth head of his cock jammed into the soft underside of Tracy's jaw and she smiled again.

"Yeah," she whispered as the young man pulled back, dragging the shaft back through her sweaty, sticky cleavage, "that's how you do it. Faster . . . faster . . . come on, boy-toy . . . faster . . . there you go . . . cum on Mrs. Texas's tits."

He leaned forward and braced himself with his hands on the rolled arm of the couch, elbows locked, and rapidly slid his thick cock between Tracy's saline-injected tits. His bloated balls dragged back and forth along the sweaty tanned flesh of her stomach and his head dropped, his chin resting against his chest.

His eyes slid open to take in the sight of the luxurious titty-fuck. His fat shaft, pink and criss-crossed with pulsing veins, was trapped tightly between the tanned, gleaming flesh of Tracy's tits. On an upward stroke, the glossy head of his cock eclipsed the Mrs. Texas pendant Tracy wore around her sensuous neck. She craned her head forward, a long, pink tongue flitting from between her wet, crimson lips and swiping a thick drop of pre-cum from the tip. On its way back into her mouth, her tongue washed across her lips, leaving traces of his cum to mix with the smeared lip gloss.

"Cum all over me, boy-toy!" she hissed, spittle flying from her crimson and pearlescent covered lips. He barely heard her voice through the blood pounding in his ears. His heavy nut sack twitched beneath him, tightening as it prepared to unleash a torrent of sperm.

As he jammed his cock deep in Tracy's cleavage, he held himself there, grinding the sensitive underside of his cock against her breastbone, and pushed himself off the arm of the couch. He leaned back and groaned from deep in his throat.

"Oohh ffuucckk!" he roared. His hands clamped down on the quivering flesh of Tracy's store-bought tits, shoving her hands out of the way. His strong, thick fingers sunk into the flesh and he kneaded the meaty globes, feeling her saline implants squish and ooze between his fingers.

Tracy's elegant fingers, free now, locked down on his wrists, holding his hands in place as they mauled her overstuffed mounds. She felt the downy hair covering his scrotum whisper across the sweaty flesh of her stomach, quivering.

His glassy eyes locked on his cock as the shiny head hovered just above the gold Mrs. Texas pendant. Transfixed, he watched as his mushroom-shaped cock-head darkened, swelled. The tip opened and a ropy string of cum surged forth, splashing against Tracy's jaw before streaming down her slender throat.

He shuddered as the cum pooled in the hallow of her throat, drowning the pendant in its thick, wet heat. A second shot of cum erupted from his balls; he felt it course through the length of his shaft, its intensity greater than the first, and watched as the slimy string of cum arched over Tracy's chin and landed across her full lips, oozing down the right side of her check.

"Uugghhh!" he moaned, the debauchery of it all shutting down his brain. His entire body quaked and he braced himself on his hands still buried in the older woman's swollen tits.

"Oohh, ffuucckk," he groaned, his body starting to settle. A third stream of thick cum sprayed from the tip of his cock, filling the hallow of her throat before spilling over and sliding down the side of her tanned neck. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, from his chin, splashing down on Tracy's forehead, before he rolled off her, falling backward into the opposite end of the couch.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, his eyes easing shut and his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. He just lay there, his young body gleaming in sweat, until his breathing slowed to close to normal. He put his hands beneath his head and looked across the couch at Tracy.

With a long, bright red nail, Mrs. Texas spread the pool of cum over the top of her inflated tits, spreading it lower. She traced a lazy circle around one nipple, then the other, the tanned flesh gleaming in a mixture of her sweat and his cum. With her other hand, she ran a finger across her cheek, over her lips, collecting cum, before rubbing her fingers into her cleavage.

After a moment, her striking emerald orbs drifted from her cum-splattered chest to the boy-toy resting at the opposite end of the couch. Her eyes slightly hooded, a lecherous smile slowly spread across her face, lighting up the classically beautiful features that earned her the coveted title. "You, young man," she began, her voice soft, content, "you made a mess of Mrs. Texas."