An unhappily married mom hires a teenager to mow her lawn and satisfy her needs

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.