Young Boys

Photo by Volha Milovich on Unsplash

I was assured the other day by The Unicorn that GILF (granny I like to fuck) is a thing. Apparently in her OF world niches like GILF, Mature woman, MILF etc are trending strongly. As I have aged there has been more than one occasion that I have been approached by very young men who claim to be into mature, curvy women. For the most part I find this kind of male unreliable, flaky and hard to deal with. I have a general rule of not really interacting with men under about 35 and a fairly hard boundary of no one under 25. Then I received this message; 

Where do I sign up. God Damn

M28 with a face pic in his profile. It is hard to go past someone who is massaging your ego like that. We had a conversation. Then he messaged

I’ll be out near you tomorrow 

 I tossed this back and forwards for a while. He looked OK but not my usual type. The red hair intrigued me, unusual. He seemed to be intelligent. And so I agreed to meet for a drink. I was rewarded. The first sight of him calmed my hesitation. The conversation flowed and he was genuinely gentle and kind. And then we were fucking like a pair of rabbits.

He doesn’t meet the regular criteria. If I was asked to describe my type I would say 40 – 50, taller, well built, confident and strong. Silver foxes who have spent large parts of their life doing manual labour make me weak at the knees. The Ranga is the opposite. One day he will be a silver fox who has spent most of his life doing manual labour but at the moment he is at the opposite end of that career. He does tick the confident and strong boxes. Plus he can fuck. For hours. 

He has this way of pushing me around the bed into the position he wants, inserting his finger or his cock to the exact right spot and telling me to cum for him like a good girl. Just the memory of it makes me press my clit against something hard. Like a little girl rubbing herself on the edges of furniture. Did I mention he can fuck? For hours?

People often get excited by the idea of me being a teacher. Men often recollect a teacher they had the hots for as a teenager and assure me that my students feel the same way about me. I honestly don’t believe them. I actively keep thoughts about my students in the Mrs Jones The Teacher part of my mind. I am not going to lie it isn’t always easy. While my typical ‘type’ is the Silver Fox there is something about some young men. Their vulnerability. The way they try to act like they are experienced and know all about ‘it’, whatever ‘it’ is. So, sometimes, one occasionally worms his way into my thoughts for a moment before I banish him back to the professional part of my mind. 

What is a little freaky about The Ranga is that he bears a strong resemblance to one of these young men. He isn’t a doppelgänger in the true sense. But his eyes are the same and his face is the same shape and he has this mannerism that is the same. Like they are cousins or something. It is a little unsettling. But not enough to negate the fucking, for hours. In fact the confidence and skill with which he performs that act is enough of a point of difference for it not to matter. Last time we were together I did spend a couple of moments reflecting on the surrealness of that particular nuance while I sat astride him with his cock deep inside me. He asked me what I was thinking but I didn’t tell him. Instead I distracted him with a pair of jiggling breasts and a very hungry pussy. 

Shilouette

There is something about city lights. The way they twinkle. The way that city skyscrapers look so romantic at night.

Power Trip

Photo by Chris Montgomery on Unsplash

I usually keep my “Gemma life” very separate from “Mrs Jones” life. But a situation happened at work recently that prompted this story.

“Hey guys, nice to see you.” The Academic Leader, Simon,  greeted the mug shots as they popped on to the screen. 

“Hey there,” John settled into his chair. After two years zoom meetings still seemed weird to him. Beside him his colleague donned his headphones and logged in to the same meeting. Unlike John Travis was what they call a digital native. He was at ease with this kind of meeting. Even being cheeky enough to work on other tasks during the meeting. 

“They can’t see me doing that stuff,” he explained to John. “The camera sees me at my desk. I can hear what is being said. No loss to anyone and the whole meeting isn’t a complete waste of time.” 

John could never bring himself to do that. Listening to a conversation and concentrating on work was too much for him. So he sat through the stupid meeting and dreamed about retiring. 

“Helllooo everyone, sorry for being a bit late,” The broad tones of a Scottish lass pricked John’s ears. John twitched in his seat as the sound of her voice triggered the same tingle in his lower regions. 

“No worries Rowan.” Simon reassured her before he began his usual spiel. John looked over at Travis typing furiously, responding to emails and constructing worksheets for upcoming lessons. John found Travis’ energy tiring most days. He longed for a quiet life. One where he could go about his life with minimal disruption and be safe in the knowledge that if anything didn’t work in his classroom it was most definitely not anything to do with his teaching but rather his students’ shortcomings. 

The meeting droned on. John stifled a yawn. He really didn’t need to hear most of this stuff. Anything really important would be relayed by Travis. Then without warning there was a change in the tone of the meeting.

“In my experience,” Rowan’s voice remained calm despite the intensity John could feel, “this kind of practise never works for young people. We should be thinking a little bit more outside the box,” 

The familiar tingle increased as John looked at Rowan’s face on the screen. It was so hard to read expressions in the little mug shots but it didn’t matter her voice was what he was responding to. There was a break in the sound of her accent as Simon tried to placate her. But she wasn’t having it. 

“I disagree,” Was that a slight increase in volume? John listened intently to the tones of her voice feeling his own body echoing in response.

 “I know other schools are taking a very different approach and it really works.” John could feel the unfamiliar stirring of his cock. He hoped the meeting would end soon he didn’t know if he could contain his reaction.

Simon managed to shut the debate down even though John knew, and he allowed himself a wry smile at the thought, that the discussion was far from over. This woman wasn’t a pushover. The whoosh sound of everyone logging off from the meeting rang in John’s ears as he removed his headphones. Most of his colleagues had left for the day and he stood beside his desk looking around the empty office. The memory of Rowan’s voice was still strong and he felt a tightening in his pants. 

Quickly he picked up his car keys and exited the office. As he walked his erection grew. He felt as if he could hear her walking behind him. The feeling increased his arousal. Once inside his car he sat breathing heavily. Before he even realised he was fumbling with his zipper, desperate to free his dick. His hand wrapped around his shaft and began an unfamiliar shuffle. His old wrists complained but he couldn’t stop. His dick was harder than he could remember it being for a long time. He imagined her face looking at him as he stroked, demanding him to continue.

He felt the unfamiliar pressure building. The feeling of a dam about to burst. It had been so long but he couldn’t stop now, even if he wanted to. His breath was hot and hard and his hips bucked against the car seat. Heat surged through him and a dribble of cum covered his hand. Even his ejaculation was out of practise. He sagged back against the car seat breathing heavily. His dick receding back into its usual shell. 

After a few moments his mind cleared and he looked down at the white liquid splashed over his wrist. A string of fluid bridged the tip of his cock with the fingers that had just been stroking it. He looked around the empty carpark. He couldn’t believe what he had just done. Wanking in the seat of his car like a dirty old man. He used the rag he kept behind the driver’s seat to wipe his hand clean all the time wondering what his wife would say if she knew. Worse what would Rowan say? 

He squirmed imagining her displeasure. Then his heart sank as he remembered. It would be two weeks until he heard her voice again.  

The Word for Today – Neon

The Unicorn and I are involved in this project together. Or rather she is trying to start a business and I somehow got tangled up in it. We have sewn together for a long time. She studied fashion at school. I just like sewing and have largely taught myself what I know. Now she is trying to start a label that encompasses active wear and alternative underwear. And here I am designing and making boxers and underwear for men that is not really meant to be hidden under pants. Our latest idea is neon boxers that glow under UV light.

Interestingly a group of my friends are planning to travel to the US later this year to be part of a Lifestyle Cruise. One of the themes for the evening is a “Glow Party”. Several of them are interested. My mind fills with thoughts of naked people dancing in a night club covered in bright glowing colours of mesh. As the night progresses the bodies become closer together or small groups of them break off from dancing and find an alcove to explore more. As things get more heated their glowing clothing is discarded and they climb naked into an oversized bed. Their luminescent clothing scattered about on the floor as their bodies grind together in time with the music.

Impale

The traveller is somewhere in North Queensland working. We have not spoken much but the other night he sent me an image which touched something.

His member wasn’t exceptionally large. But there was something about it. Something that drew her in. The sold shaft the way it curved and the way the veins twisted around the base. Reverently she held her face close to him smelling the clean salty scent with an undertone of musk. She ran her nose along the velvet covering the hard rod. A drop of clear fluid formed at the tip. She smeared it over the head of his cock with her thumb watching his reaction as she teased his sensitive spots. 

Without speaking she looked into his eyes before bowing her head to slide her lips over his cock taking the entire length into her mouth. He felt himself connect with the back of her throat as her nose nudged against his belly. For long moments she held him before pulling back letting his cock slip wetly between her lips. He exhaled a long breath. Tension released from his body. It had been too long. 

She began to move her head up and down in long smooth strokes. Her tongue swirled over his frenulum at the top of each stroke. A deep warmth spread into his belly and he felt the familiar pressure building at the base of his cock. It had been too long. It seemed she was perfectly in tune with him. Before long she stopped and pushed him down onto the bed. 

She straddled him and placed her opening over his cock. The scent of her own arousal filled his nose as she guided him inside her. 

“It has been too long.” 

Her voice echoed his thoughts as she impaled herself on him. Taking his entire length inside her hungry cunt. She began to move slowly at first adjusting herself and using him like a sex toy. Taking her pleasure. For short moments he was absorbed by the sway of her breasts but urgency came quickly for both of them. Before either could realise the speed of her rocking increased. He breasts bounced wildly as her finger worked frantically at the centre of her pleasure. 

The pressure built and he knew he couldn’t hold back for much longer. His fingers gripped her hips as he tried to hold back. The wave broke, sending spasms of pleasure through his cock. A loud groan from the woman above him spurred him on. He felt his jizz leaving him, filling her hungry cunt in strong hot waves. 

When they were spent she collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily her pussy still clamped around him. 

“Fuck I love your cock.” 

Thirty Dirty Questions – Question 27

What is your favourite sexual position and why?

There was once a TMI Tuesday question that asked “if you could only have sex in one position for the rest of your life what would it be?” Or something like that. Being a practical person I responded with missionary because it is an easy go to. I guess I was cheating because there are variants on missionary that make it more exciting but it is still two people facing each other one with his penis inside the other. 

Often this is a go to for me. Legs on his shoulders, his hands on my body, maybe even my boobs, and dick penetrating just the right amount. I used to love deep penetration positions like doggie and similar but these days for some reason if a man has any kind of length and he goes in really deep I feel as if he is moving my uterus around my belly and not in a fun kind of way. As we get older our bodies change and adjustments are necessary.

When I am playing I like to have sex in multiple positions. I have a relatively short attention span I guess and so If I stay in the one position for too long I get bored and then my interest / arousal wanes. Don’t get me wrong. I love fucking. It is one of my favourite things to do but there needs to be variety. This I guess is why I am struggling with the idea of having to choose ONE position. 

I guess, as I said in the opening paragraph missionary is a catch all that can describe a number of variations. I like to watch a man fucking me. If I can almost see his cock going inside me all the better. I also find it easier to position myself to ensure maximum stimulation when I am in a missionary variant. Plus there is this thing that happens when his cock slides out and he taps me on the clit……

Yep. As cliche as it sounds nothing beats being able to look someone in the eye as they cum inside your pussy. 

Unwind – Part 2; The Transaction

Photo by Parrish Freeman on Unsplash

I posted the lead up to this for MMMonday last week.

We took the stairs to the mezzanine room that I sometimes used to fuck in when I meet with men. A purpose built room in the back of an industrial building. Nothing fancy but there is a big sturdy bed with a few toys. Out of the way and private. I have enjoyed some wild times in this room. But for the last few months it had been quiet. Not for any one reason just the way of it. Climbing the stairs felt strange. I always felt weird bringing a new person to this space. It was not like most places and I worried about what they would think. It made me feel awkward and jittery. 

But there was something else. I was at the end of several weeks of visiting relatives, attending events and dealing with people. It isn’t that I don’t like people and it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy every individual event or spending time with the people I cared about but it took it’s toll. I am at heart an introvert. I need time at home quietly away from people to recharge my batteries and I hadn’t had that. I was wound up tightly like a spring about to give way. I could feel the tension in me and it added to the awkwardness.

Once inside the room we shed our clothes. There was still this transactional feeling. The heat of attraction was still struggling to ignite. We stretched out together and he cupped my breast. His fingers pinched gently, exploring my response getting to know me. His fingers slid inside my wet opening, teasing, bringing out a response. The whole time he was careful, respectful but I could feel something in him. There was strength. He pressed his face between my legs, tasting me. My back arched as his tongue traced around my folds, seeking out my pleasure. Liquid covered his mouth. He gripped my thighs, pulling me closer. I smiled in pleasure. The sight of a man between my legs greedily devouring was something I missed. 

He consumed me until I couldn’t stand it any more. The sheets beneath me were wet. I pushed him down and positioned myself so that I could take his cock into my mouth. There was a sigh of pleasure as my lips slid down his shaft. I tilted my head so that I could look him in the eye. He smiled as his hand cupped the back of my head. 

“I love that sight,” he told me. “Watching you take my cock into your mouth.” 

I slid my lips down further. His cock was smooth over my tongue. Clean, a slight salt of pre-cum, not to small that it didn’t fill my mouth and not so large that it choked me. Just right. He pulled back a little and leaned forward, not letting him escape. 

“I want to edge for a while.” His breathing was hard. I was a little surprised at how close he was to cumming. But I complied. I alternated with swirling my tongue around him and sucking him deeply. His arousal resonated through my body. I spasmed in my own pleasure feeling his enjoyment on a deep visceral level. It wasn’t long before we could wait no longer. He stepped away to find a condom. I rolled over onto my belly and watched him between my arms. He stood over me, with his cock jutting out in front of him. 

“Take a photo,” I asked. He kneeled on the bed and placed his cock in my mouth again. I looked up at him following his direction as he snapped pictures. I could feel how close he was to cumming. The phone was abandoned. The condom was rolled down over his cock and he knelt behind my arse. His hands gipped my hips as his cock slid into me.

This position is sometimes problematic but tonight it wasn’t. He fit nicely. I was like Goldilocks, not to small, not too big, just right. This man could fuck. Like a machine. He was attentive to my responses and responded accordingly. Earlier in the night he had indicated he liked the feeling of being dominant. As he gripped my hips I felt it coming out in him. He held me against him. Keeping me in the position he wanted. Showing me he could control my movement without making me feel trapped. I was a goner. He took himself to the point of orgasm and then withdrew from me. The bed beneath us was soaked but I didn’t care. I was in that place of happy fucking. 

He flipped me over and pulled me to the edge of the bed. I was completely at his mercy. His fuck toy. All pressure to make decisions disappeared. As he lifted my legs and slid his cock inside me I felt the pressure disappearing. He leaned down and held my hands above my head, firmly. Holding me in place, at his mercy. There would be times in my life when I would struggle against him asserting his authority but tonight it was what I needed. He fucked me to climax. After holding back as long as he could he came long and hard. 

I was very pleased that his earlier promises of not being a “One and done” was genuine. All of the goods offered in the transaction were delivered. The feeling of being able to relax and not have to deal with people, make decisions and be places. All I had to think about at that moment was being fucked. Relaxing and living in the moment. 

We parted with promises to meet again. The transactional feeling returned. For this man what had just happened was a regular hook up. True to his negotiation there was no emotional attachment. No drama, no pressure of high expectations. I was high on being fucked, on the feeling of being unwound. I trundled home to reflect. To listen to Powderfinger and relish the felling of release. 

The Traveller – Part 2

You can read part 1 of this story here.

Over the next two days The Traveller and I fucked. Many times. I was amazed. He never seemed tired or unable to respond to me. My own response to him was also surprising to me. I never failed to respond to his touch. One moment we would be enjoying some sunshine and the nest my dress was pushed up and his fingers were exploring me. Drawing out my juice and making me almost beg for his cock. 

We weren’t completely nude. But clothing was minimal. The days were warm and I enjoyed the sunshine. I was keen to enhance my tan as the last warm days of summer faded. Whenever I could find a warm sunny spot out of the wind I stripped down and lay around like a siren luring men to me. For the most part Mr Jones was amused. He watched us dancing around each other and me teasing a response from this man. He watched us fuck and then reclaimed his wife as much as he wanted. 

I was never tired of looking at him. I loved the hair on his body. I loved to run my fingers through the rug on his chest. The silvery hairs seemed to make him more attractive. Like a silverback. Strong, virile and experienced. When he was fully naked I peeked at him around corners. Taking in the strong lines of his body and his round arse. Whenever I looked at his arse I wanted to grab it. I was reminded of how it felt to wrap my legs around it as he fucked me. 

I am unsure of how I managed to walk on the last morning we were together. Or sex that morning was more leisurely. I was reflective knowing that I had to go back to reality and that this was probably the last time he would fuck me. We dragged ourselves out of bed and prepared for the day. I took the opportunity to be a lady of leisure as The Traveller took on my regular duties as a crew member. We sailed back towards the city line, leaving behind the quiet bay where we had spent the night. 

As we sailed back to our home port I began to tidy our cabin and pack up clothing and washing from our trip. As I was pottering I became aware of him in the cabin that Mr Jones and I shared. Of all the places we had fucked Mr Jones’ and my bed was off limits. It wasn’t something spoken but something we agreed to. Over our time together Mr Jones and I have invited others into our own bed at home but for the most part we play somewhere else. A hotel a club, the play room or the guest cabin on the yacht. 

The Traveller’s attention was unexpected. Our time was coming to an end. We had fucked so many times I was sure he had his fill. But then he was there, putting his hands on my waist, pulling me against his body as he nibbled on my neck. I sighed in pleasure as his hands reached inside my dress and cupped my breasts. My nipples hardened between his fingers and I reached back to slip my hands inside his pants. His cock as always was ready. He was a freak like that. Always ready. Always horny. 

“How do you want me, Mrs Jones?” His voice was husky against my neck. 

I smiled remembering being teased the night before about how greedy I had been. The Traveller insisted that I had initiated every one of our encounters. As much as I didn’t want to admit it he was right. But I told him that today was about him. He was the initiator. 

“You are in charge today,” I replied. Attempting to fold clothing. 

He moved me towards the stairs. “Here looks good,” He positioned me so that I was leaning over the staircase. I had never thought about using the stairs this way but any stray thoughts of dust and practicalities were banished as he entered me. Even after the last two days I still felt that thrill as he slid inside me. I was still transported by the sound of his breathing and the slap of his belly against my arse.

As always my body responded to him. Excitement rose as his pace increased. 

“You are so fucking sexy,” his voice was strained with excitement. “Are you ready for one last load?” 

“Yes,” My voice came out as a whisper. 

“Here it comes,” I could feel the intensity and my own body responded. 

With the now familiar grunt he climaxed. I could feel him pulsing inside me. I was never tired of that feeling. For a few moments we leaned against the stairs and he rested against me. I was really aware of the feeling that I never wanted this moment to end. I wanted to live like this forever. Reality was too hard. 

We made our way back to our home berth, everything was tidy and packed away. As we said our goodbyes there we all expressed a hope that there would be a repeat in our future. As much as I want it to be that way I am not sure. He is a nomadic person. His wanderings don’t bring him to my little corner of the world much. But maybe, one day, the planets will align. In the meantime travel well sexy man. Enjoy life and be happy. 

TMI Tuesday – The Very Late Edition

A little while ago I had this inspiration to write SOMETHING every day. As I typed the words telling you all about this idea I knew it would fail. And it did. But like a habit that I just can’t kick here I am again.

Photo by Kirill Balobanov on Unsplash

1. Select a kink. You’re a first-time visitor to a dungeon, and you are ‘center stage’ because a sizeable crowd has gathered to watch you:
a. Writhing from bare-hand spanking
b. Restrained on an X-cross receiving a whipping
c. Dangling in air wrapped in an ornate web of rope
d. Naked on a floor mat with 3 people pleasuring you

Staying true to form I am going with d. Probably done a version of that before. Actually the three people but not with a crowd watching although that does sound awfully fun. Dangling in the air with three people pleasuring. Now that sounds like something to add to the bucket list!

2. If you selected #4 in the last question, tell us how you are pleasured?

Person A would have his face buried in my cunt. Person B would have his cock in my throat and Person C would be holding me and tantalising my nipples. Perhaps with some nibbling and a little pinching.

3. Bind, blind, tease. Write a 50-word story and include those 3 words.

Ropes on my wrists, holding me against the mattress. Fabric on my face obscuring my view. The feeling of your fingers stroking me causing me to arch against the mattress. Your lips nibble my breast as your fingers slide downwards. I moan as your fingers slide inside me. I feel your breath on my face but I cannot feel your body. My senses search for you, but I am restrained. My need is like an ache.

“Please”

4. Sex Doll play: The ‘doll’ is the human version of an inflatable sex doll.
The ‘doll’ must lie completely still on a bed and let their partner have at it. The partner is free to control the doll’s body and movements, and do what they please. Which will you be–the doll or the doll-master? Why?

Another item for the fucket list! A longer standing fantasy is to find a strong capable man to act out the sex doll fantasy with. Of course I am the doll. To be played by a person with skill and confidence…

Table

For Boobday on Friday I posted an image of a table I had been restoring. As I was working on this project a germ of a story was planted.

“Look at this!” Shelli exclaimed as she pulled the drop sheet away from the table sitting in the back of the shed. Dust billowed into the air making Pete sneeze as he came to investigate her find. Even in the dim light of the dusty shed the table seemed to dominate. Pete ran his fingers over the wood admiring the solid construction. 

“You don’t see furniture like this anywhere these days.”  

The wood was dark with age and grime from years of use. Years of being part of the family that lived here before the farm was abandoned after a long drought. Like everything here, the table held stories of better days and dreams for a future that never eventuated. 

“This will look amazing in the dining room,” Shelli’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“I agree, let’s get it outside.” 

Together they lugged the surprisingly heavy table out into the sunlight. “Man I didn’t think it would be THAT heavy,” Shelli leaned against the furniture breathing heavily as Pete inspected their find more closely in the daylight.

Despite the dust and grime Pete could see that the timber was unusual.

“I wonder what it is made of,” he mused as he brushed away dust and scratched the surface with his fingernail. A layer of oil mixed with dirt filled his nail but he was unable to make an indent in the timber itself. Close inspection revealed evidence of saw marks indicating that the planks may have been hewn by hand. 

“It is definitely hardwood,” Shelli concurred. 

“I think it is home made.” Pete continued his inspection admiring the solid way the table was constructed. “Whoever made it wanted to make sure it lasted.” 

Over the next few weeks the table became one of the many projects Pete and Shelli tackled as they worked to bring order and life into their new home. They knew a little of the sad story. The farm was owned by an older lifelong farmer who had inherited the property from his own father. He had lost his wife to cancer and continued to live and work in the only place he had ever known until a tragic accident had taken his life. His adult children could not agree about how to continue running the farm or how to arrange finances. In the end a long drought had decreased the value so much that the family had been unable to sell and had simply walked away. They had stripped the house of anything of value and piled unwanted furniture into the shed. Everything else was left where it stood. Fencing wire and old machinery rusted in the paddock. 

As she scrubbed and sanded the table Shelli reflected on the history of the table. She imagined the original owner constructing the table specifically for the dining room of their newly built house. Her mind wandered to meals shared by the farmer and his wife after long hard days of work. Of stories told and games played with children who followed. Of Christmas dinners shared and birthdays celebrated. How this table saw the children grow up and perhaps even bring their own children to sit at the table to be part of family celebrations. Deep inside she wanted to honour the family by following this tradition. To make the table the centre of her own family and her and Pete’s dreams. 

Eventually the table was finished. The dining room was cleaned and painted. Pete and Shelli lugged it up the steps and through the door. Finally the table was back where it belonged. To mark the occasion Shelli cooked a roast dinner with meat from their own cattle. The first beast they grew. The whole evening was symbolic of a new beginning. New life being breathed into the buildings of the old farm. The air was filled with possibility. 

Pete sat at the head of the table. Perhaps the farmer who had died had sat in that very spot every evening. When the meal was finished Shelli cleared away their plates stacking them neatly to ferry them to the sink for washing. There was no money or spare electricity for dishwashers here. Pete’s hand slid up Shelli’s thigh as she leaned forward to remove the salt and pepper. 

“Someone is frisky tonight,” she smiled back at her husband. 

“How could I not be?” He responded with his own grin. “Fantastic meal, beautiful wife. Who is hot as fuck.” His fingers slid under the elastic of her panties. “And I believe she is as horny as me.”

Shelli leaned further forward to retrieve a teacup, “I swear I have no idea what you are talking about.” Her skirt lifted higher as Pete’s fingers dipped into her wet opening. 

“Really?” He asked as he moved his face close enough to inhale the scent of her.

“Absolutely! Unnff,” She collapsed on the table as his fingers stroked her opening. Her legs spread wider as he pushed his fingers deep inside her, finding the places he knew would make her weak at the knees. Groans of pleasure filled the dining room as she writhed in pleasure, completely at his mercy. Liquid trickled down his fingers sending a jolt straight to his cock. 

Without speaking he stood up from his chair and unzipped his pants. His cock sprang free throbbing with desire for his wife. With his tongue touching his lips Pete pulled aside Shelli’s sodden panties. There was a sound of stitches tearing but he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was burying himself deep inside her.

As his cock touched her she backed against him eagerly her desire matched his as he gripped her hips pumping hungrily. From the first thrust he knew he would not be able to last. She was so amazing, her arse was so full and round, slapping against his belly. He could feel the familiar pressure of his seed pressing against the base of his cock, clamouring to fill her. He held as long as he could but it was not long. With a loud groan he pumped his load into her. His strong fingers gripped her hips, she held herself against him eagerly welcoming his jizz. 

His body collapsed over hers, a slight sheen of sweat formed on his back as he revelled in the warmth of her body and the smell of their sex. After a few moments he started to worry about his weight on top of her and he stood up to free her. His cock slid out of her and a dribble of his cum formed on her leg. Shelli squeezed her legs together.

“I don’t want to lose any,” she whispered against the tablecloth.

Pete smiled fondly and caressed the line of her back making her shiver, “Why not?”

“I want to grow more than just cows.” She looked at him with a sly look on her face, “This table is too big for just two people.”