ANYWAY

Anyway, I was sitting there in the busy shop getting my 
roots taken care of and my nails done and the thin 
woman beside me, she was laid all the way back and 
getting a wash and rinse, she started talking about the 
boy that cut her lawn and then fucked her silly. Of 
course she said he was hung like a horse; don't they 
always say that? She said she was sore for a week.

But it got my attention since I've been having a 
terrible itch, a serious need, a real hunger, and when 
she sat up with a towel about her head I introduced 
myself and asked about the boy. She told me his name, 
Billy Somebody-or-other, and said he was only fifteen, 
but that he was absolutely tireless with a man-sized 
root and very considerate manner. So I filed that 
information away along with his phone number which she 
got off her cell phone and when I got home I called him 
and left a message, feeling foolish of course. Horny 
but foolish.

Anyway, I'm twenty-eight years old and I've been 
married for three years and I love my handsome husband 
dearly. He makes a lot of money, but he is a dud in 
bed, when he gets there which is seldom. The man works 
sixty or seventy hours a week and then he golfs and 
plays tennis and has one night out with the boys, as he 
calls them, probably fucks his bimbo secretary now and 
then, and on Sunday night, if he remembers, he climbs 
between my legs and pounds me for a couple of minutes 
with his more than adequate weapon before he flops down 
and starts snoring. 

I've got some toys, including a battery powered one 
with a clit feeler that's great if a bit cumbersome, 
but I need a real cock, and I need it badly and often, 
and I certainly don't care how old it is, seventeen or 
seventy. I just need a man between my legs, a male 
chest on my body, the smell and taste of an eager man. 
Before I married Jim, I was what is usually called 
sexually active which means I hooked up with men 
regularly and enjoyed almost every one of them 
thoroughly.

Anyway, in an hour or two Billy returned my call, and I 
told him where I got his name and he said he could do 
my lawn the next day, which was Friday, and I said 
great and he said he'd be there about nine. After I 
hung up, I got out my favorite toy and spent an hour or 
so on my bed, moaning and gasping while I exercised my 
mons, clitoral and vaginal muscles, getting ready for 
action. 

So the next morning I showered and shaved my legs, 
underarms, belly and vulva, used some light perfume, 
inserted my diaphragm, stimulated my clit so it stood 
erect, fluffed up my hair and pulled on my brand new 
babydoll pajama top. It was icy blue, spaghetti 
strapped and just about transparent, very frilly at the 
deep hem which reached about mid-butt and barely 
covered my rounded ass and my needy pussy if I stood 
still. 

I got the strap to hang off one shoulder, baring the 
tit if I moved. When I was younger, I was tempted to 
have my jugs augmented, but they filled out nicely as I 
matured and were now just about perfect 36C's, high and 
hard. I walked toward my mirror and watched a pale boob 
appear and then hide. I got my feet into high-heeled 
mules and was ready, more than ready, almost dripping. 
I felt like I was going to the prom or something, like 
a nervous teenager, hot to trot, my labia actually 
fluttering. I had the urge to stick one of my big 
dildos all the way in but somehow resisted. Even my 
anus seemed excited.

So about ten of nine, here he comes, on a bicycle; I 
was going to take a lover that rode to work on a bike. 
I laughed at myself and felt my cheeks redden. He 
knocked at the back door and I let him in, and he just 
stood there gawking at me as I leaned back at the 
marble counter and smiled at him, feet wide apart and 
frilly little, transparent top barely hanging to my 
excited nipples and flowing about my belly and hips. I 
had posed before my mirror, and I knew what he was 
seeing, my pink inner and quivering outer sex lips, 
ready for action, my muscular legs, my jutting boobs, 
my shaved mons dripping.

Anyway, he said something that sounded like "geeze," 
and I told him the lawnmower was in the shed. He just 
blinked at me and asked was there anything I wanted 
done first. His crotch suddenly bulged, bulged almost 
frighteningly. I felt something very odd, something 
sort of electrical, surge through me.

So I smiled, turned my back, wiggled my wide ass and 
said, "Well, you might give me a sample, just a quick 
one. Mrs. Hill said you were awfully nice to her."

"Mrs. Hill," he said as he closed the door and stepped 
up behind me, putting a hard hand on my ass. I heard 
his zipper go down as he stroked my hip. "She the lady 
over on Maple Street?" He laid his massive member on my 
crack. It felt like a baseball bat, heavy and thick, as 
he grasped my butt with both hands.

I nodded and he pushed my feet farther apart and gently 
filled me from behind, and when I say filled me, I mean 
that exactly. In fact, over-filled might be more 
accurate. I'm sure I gasped. He held me at the hips as 
he pushed that huge thing of his into me, up into me, 
all the way into me; its blunt head bludgeoning me 
open, turning my labia inward, parting my yielding 
flesh, crushing my clit. I could feel his swelling 
balls pressing my slit as he rammed. In that hungry 
monster of his went, in and in and then in some more, 
tearing at my clinging flesh, stretching my latex cap, 
threatening my womb. 

I shivered and he asked if I was Ok, and I nodded and 
bit my lip to keep from crying out as he kept pushing 
this huge club up into me, inch by hard and big-headed 
inch until his belly was firmly against my buttocks and 
the head of his prick jumped and flexed, prodding at my 
cervix and rubbing my inflamed G-spot, mashing my clit 
into joyful submission. Then he exhaled and said, 
"Ready?" I almost laughed as his rough hands came up to 
my shoulders and pulled me to him, tightly to him.

"I think so," I managed to say, feeling very odd indeed 
because I had never had such a thing in me even when I 
pushed my biggest toy way up there. It was frightening, 
exciting but scary. I remembered what it felt like the 
first time I turned my Rabbit on, how I screamed and 
dropped it. Then his big rod jumped or flexed or 
something, and I whimpered like a child. If he was 
going to kill me, I would die happy. My uterus was 
shivering I was sure and my nipples were poking out, 
iron hard and super sensitive.

He slid his rough hands down from where he had been 
holding me while he impaled me, and he grasped my 
breasts, firmly, and squeezed as he began humping me, 
first these long slow thrusts with a frightening pause 
between each, a pause in which the head of his huge 
manhood seemed to jump as if taking a bite out of me, 
but pretty soon he was really fucking, bringing me 
right up off the floor, up on my toes, squealing every 
time he rammed that big pole up in me and kneaded my 
jugs, pinching my nipples. Our flesh smacked loudly 
together, and he grunted and I sobbed with each 
penetration as he mauled my breasts. His callused hands 
set my hard nipples afire as he squeezed and twisted. I 
could hear him breathing hard and my heart thumping 
rapidly.

Anyway, he was exhaling loudly, and I was groaning and 
gasping as he accelerated to about one a second, really 
banging me. The boy slid one hand down and started 
rubbing at my clit, pulling on a nipple with the other 
hand and hitting my hot spot with almost every ram once 
he was doing full-length thrusts, which I was sure were 
at least six inches, six inches of copper-hard pipe, 
six inches of blood-hot steel, six inches of blunt-
headed spear. 

It actually felt as if his tool was swelling, getting 
thicker when it already felt like a log. I came like a 
crazy woman, screeching and jumping with this kid 
holding me to his hard body and trying to ram his cock 
up into my throat, snorting like he was running a race. 
I had never, ever climaxed from coitus, not once in my 
whole life, and the first time this young man plugs me 
with his outsized horn I go off like a ten-cent 
firecracker. My knees gave out. It was wonderful but 
embarrassing as I slid down the front of the cabinets 
and ended up on all fours on the floor with this 
pitiless youngster squatting behind me, knees bent, 
hands on my shoulders, tearing at my babydoll top and 
drilling me for all he was worth, bent over me and 
snorting with effort, banging his massive balls against 
my soggy slit, grunting like a hog. 

I had tried to count but lost track when I came and he 
was well over a hundred rams then. I put my head down 
on the tile floor and gasped, "Enough, enough," and he 
finally got the message, slowing his pile driving and 
then stopped, his horn trembling deeply inside me, 
pulled his thick spear out with a squishy plop and then 
stood and washed it off at the sink while I stayed down 
there moaning and oozing and drooling. I stumbled to my 
feet and watched him, eager to see the thing that had 
destroyed me, eviscerated me. It was as big as a 
zucchini or cucumber and his scrotum was at least the 
size of a baseball. I couldn't believe it. He dried 
them with the tea towel and smiled as he put his 
adolescent equipment away.

He went out and cut the lawn, both front and back and 
by then I had gathered my wits, had a stiff drink, 
fixed my hair and make up and put on my new, white 
babydoll top since the blue one was ruined, ripped and 
stained, torn from my body some time during our first, 
brief coupling at the kitchen counter and on the floor. 
I looked at the clock as he went out to cut the grass, 
and it still wasn't nine o'clock yet. He had destroyed 
me in about five minutes. I couldn't remember how many 
times I had come.

Anyway, he came in sweating and smiling an hour later, 
his t-shirt in his hand, and I took him right up the 
stairs and got into the shower with him. We have a big 
double shower with a glass door, and I turned on all 
four heads and washed him, got another good look at his 
massive equipment in a more relaxed state and then, 
once he was fully aroused and that thing was jutting 
straight out before him like a tree limb, put my hands 
on the cool tile walls, urged him to enjoy himself. 

He pushed his huge member up into me again and humped 
me until I made him stop, our skin squeaking as he held 
me to him and just rammed upward, just upward, never 
out just in and in, up and up, lifting me with every 
thrust, with his huge sack tensed at the base of his 
rod while he battered my slit and ravaged my hungry 
vagina. He tried to twist my nipples off, and I must 
admit I enjoyed that exercise as he stretched them out 
painfully.

We rinsed, got out and eagerly toweled each other and 
then I took him to bed in the spare room, and we romped 
for an hour or so, exploring each other, trying 
wonderful positions, snorting and heaving like animals. 
She was right; he was tireless, and he certainly knew 
some interesting variations. Somewhere during that 
rutting, he ate me to another climax, nipping at my 
clit while I begged him to stop, his head buried in my 
groin.

When he was lying there beside me, getting his breath, 
I stroked and kissed the limp rod lying on his flat 
belly and then, despite having promised myself I would 
never do it again, I sucked it right into my mouth and 
soon was bobbing up and down on his revived male 
member, using my tongue like a teen-ager and snorting 
for breath which led to me climbing atop him and 
sliding down his rigid pole and fucking him until I 
came again and collapsed down on his lean body with a 
cry of pleasure, crushing my breasts to his hard body. 
He still hadn't come, not in my mouth or in my body, as 
far as I could tell. I couldn't believe it so I asked 
him.

"When I get close," he said, "I just clamp down on it 
with some deep muscles and hold it until it relaxes. 
It's a Kegel exercise." He grinned.

"Let me have it," I begged. "I want to feel you come 
inside me."

Anyway, he smiled, nodded, rolled me over, mounted my 
sore pussy, eased his thick shaft back into me and 
then, after about forty or fifty incredible thrusts, 
gritted his teeth, arched his back and ejaculated three 
times, melting my insides, and then squishing it out as 
his big piston continued ramming until I asked him to 
stop, sobbing with satisfaction. He dismounted, 
dressed, said he had another lawn to do, and I found my 
frilly top, gave him a hundred dollars and asked if he 
could come next week. I ignored the stream of thick 
stuff oozing down the inside of my thighs.

He smiled and said he would, at nine o'clock.

It took me about another hour to calm down, and I had 
some lunch and then took a nap, my pussy sore and 
puffy. Sunday night, when my husband did his meager 
duty, I was still sore. I smiled to myself as my mate 
got what he wanted and rolled away with a kiss. 

Anyway, Billy was next.