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From: shakespeer2b@yahoo.com (Shakes Peer2B)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 2 Oct 2003 17:54:23 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} (Repost)Me and Mrs. Jones - Chapter 1: We Get a Thing Goin' On (F/m oral anal toys Fdom?)
Date: Thu,  2 Oct 2003 17:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

I tried reposting all of these chapters yesterday, but for some reason
Chapter 1 and Chapter 4 didn't make it, so I'll try again...
________________________________
This is a story about a sexual FANTASY written for consenting adults.
If you're not both of those, don't read it.  Characters in a FANTASY
don't get sick or die unless I want them to. In real life, people who
don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do get sick and die.
You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional characters in
my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY - don't try
to do what they do - someone could get hurt.

If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters
here, congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the
characters in this story and any real person is purely coincidental,
since all of these characters are figments of my dirty little
imagination.

This is my story, not yours. Don't sell it or put it on a pay site.
You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information
intact, but if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and
pissing me off.
_________________________________
I don't recall having seen a story or series titled "Me and Mrs.
Jones" before, but I would be surprised if there weren't several out
there - it's such a natural for this sort of story.  Anyway, my
apologies to anyone who might have used it before, but I couldn't
think of a better title for this series!
_________________________________
Me and Mrs. Jones - Chapter 1: We Get a Thing Goin' On (F/m oral anal
toys Fdom?)
(C)Copyright 2003 - Shakes Peer2B
shakes_peer2b@NONOsbcglobal.net
(remove 'NONO' from above address)


http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/
http://storiesonline.net/  (go to the Author's page under 'S')
________
"Me-e-e and Mrs., 
Mrs. Jones, 
Mrs. Jones, 
Mrs. Jones
We got a thiiing, goin' on..."

That song fragment (if I ever knew the rest of the lyrics, I forgot
them long ago) has been playing in my head for the last fourteen years
and change, ever since I made the fateful decision to disobey my
parents and ask Mrs. Jones if I could mow her lawn.

When I was thirteen, Mrs. Jones moved into the house on the corner of
my block - the one surrounded by high hedges, so that you could only
catch glimpses of the roof as you passed.  There was a Mr. Jones, as
well, but no one ever talked about him, unless it was to sympathize
with the poor man.

Rumors flew from the day Mrs. Jones first stuck those long sleek legs
out the door of her brand new Jaguar and held her hand just so, for
Mr. Jones to help her out. Without visible effort, the two of them got
the rest of her impressive physique stacked atop those long slender
columns supported by impossibly high heels, and, all laws of physics
to the contrary, when Mr. Jones released her hand, she stood,
nonchalantly surveying, through her stylish sunglasses, those of us
who stood gawping at this extraordinary creature, whose straight
black, ass length hair, wafted gently in the afternoon breeze.

Like a sniper looking for a target, she scanned the faces of the
lookers on, slowly  turning her head from one side to the other.  When
she spotted me, leaning on the handle of the lawnmower I had been
pushing up the street, she stopped, removed her sunglasses and smiled,
just a little.

BANG! I didn't hear the shot, but I felt the impact as it hit me right
in the heart (or, perhaps, a foot or so lower).  From that moment, I
was lost.

My parents, of course, and all the neighbors, were abuzz with
declarations of what a brazen hussy that Mrs. Jones had to be,
strutting around in those tight dresses, showing all that cleavage,
and flirting with just about everybody, including girls and women!

I was expressly forbidden from going anywhere near the Jones
residence, and was not to offer to do any work for the witch.

"She's EVIL!" my mother practically screamed, spittle flying from the
corners of her mouth, when I dared to ask why.

I believed her. Mrs. Jones LOOKED evil. Her dark eyebrows arched
dangerously over violet eyes that pierced right to the depths of my
soul when she looked at me. Her perfect nose topped full, moist,
sensuous, scarlet lips, that wore a tiny perpetual smile, as if she
knew something the rest of us didn't.  Her high, full breasts seemed
never to be covered much beyond the nipple, and her bare, slender
waist flared into a wide, flat pelvis that framed perfectly her
bejeweled navel (this was years before navel jewelry became a fashion
overstatement) and softly rounded lower belly.

Most often, she wore skintight short-shorts or micro-mini skirts, when
she was in public, to accentuate the length and curvature of her
luscious legs.  To this day, I don't recall ever seeing her feet clad
in anything less than four inch heels.

She must have been five-eight or -nine, but to my smitten
thirteen-year-old eyes, she looked to be at least twelve feet tall.

She was evil, all right, but to me, she was also irresistable.  I
waited a week after my mother forbade me to go near her before
wheeling my lawnmower through the gate in the hedge and knocking on
her front door.

When she opened the inner door, saying "Yes?", I almost fell backwards
off the step. There, with nothing between us but a thin layer of
screen, was my dream woman, wearing nothing but a frilly black lace
see-through garment that started at her crotch and swooped high above
her hipbones, leaving her hips and much of her buttocks and sides
bare, before flaring out to tightly embrace her magnificent torso and
lovingly cradle those marvelous mounds, once again covering them to
just above the nipples. I was in heaven and hell at the same time.  I
could see more of this gorgeous creature than I had ever dreamed
possible, but seemingly unintentionally, the lace pattern hid the part
of her breasts I most wanted to see. I must have stood transfixed for
some time, staring at her breasts, catching a tiny glimpse of the edge
of an aureola, but never seeing the prize.

"Jimmy, isn't it?" she asked in a sultry, bedroom voice.

I swallowed hard, nodding, and with a herculean effort, managed to
tear my gaze from her chest, only to find those strange violet eyes
burning holes through the screen, while the smile grew on her ruby
lips.

I had just enough presence of mind to step out of the way as she
pushed the screen open and pretended to stand aside, so I could come
in.  There was no way I could get through that door without brushing
against her breasts, unless I really wanted to embarrass myself by
ducking under them, so, red-faced and holding my breath, I flattened
my back against the door-jamb and tried to slip inside without doing
too much touching.  As I came abreast of her (no pun intended, but
what the hell, if you like it, go with it!) she made a slight movement
while allowing the screen door to close, and to my utter
mortification, her hip brushed against my raging hard-on as it tried
to rip a hole in my jean shorts while her breasts mashed themselves
into my chest.

Her smile seemed to get even wider, but without pausing, she took a
short silver chain off a hook by the door and beckoned me to follow
her.

I don't know who kept her house clean, since I couldn't see her doing
housework, but the place was immaculate.  She led me to the small
table in the kitchen, on which lay a newspaper and a steaming cup of
coffee. She motioned me to the chair next to hers and turned that
gigawatt smile on me.

"How much do you charge for mowing lawns, Jimmy?"

"I - How? - Uh, what I mean...!" I floundered for a bit, wondering if
she could read my mind.

She smiled even brighter. "I saw the lawnmower on the walkway, Jimmy,
it wasn't hard to guess!"

I felt like the world's biggest fool. "Oh, uh, yeah. Uh, anyway, what
I charge depends on, you know, uh, the size of the yard 'n stuff."

She placed a soft, well-manicured hand on my bare thigh and brought
her face close to mine, whispering throatily, "So, for a yard the size
of mine, what would you charge?"

I couldn't tear my gaze from her lips as the tip of her tongue played
slowly around them. "I, uh, well, uh, maybe, uh ten bucks?" Her yard
was huge, and I would have charged anyone else twice that, but I
thought that if I gave her a big discount, I'd have a better chance of
getting the job - hell, I'd have done it for free, just for the chance
to see her now and then.

Her forefinger traced a line up my thigh to the frayed hem of my
shorts. "I'm going to tell you a secret, Jimmy.  I have a gardener who
mows my lawn, but if you will wheel your lawnmower over here every
friday, we'll do 'stuff' together while my gardener mows the lawn, and
I'll send you home with a nice crisp twenty dollar bill.  Will you do
that for me?"

She was practically nibbling my ear, now, and the finger had
progressed well beyond the tatters of my shorts-leg to scratch gently
at the outside of my briefs and send shivers up my spine.

I could barely catch my breath, hardly daring to believe that this
lovely, dangerous woman was actually coming on to me, a
thirteen-year-old virgin! "Uh, ok, uh, I guess?"

She pulled her face away from mine, frowning a bit, but her finger
continued to work its magic in my shorts. "From now on Jimmy, when I
ask you a 'yes or no' question, I'd prefer if you answered 'Yes, Mrs.
Jones' or 'No, Mrs. Jones'. Will you do that for me Jimmy?"

Her finger had now insinuated itself through the flap of my briefs and
was gently stroking the hard shaft of my teenage cock. I cleared my
throat, which had suddenly gone dry. "Uh, Yes, Mrs. Jones."

She smiled and leaned forward again, pushing another finger into my
underwear alongside the other. "That's much better, Jimmy, but next
time, no 'Uh', please?"

"U...I mean, Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

"We'll work on that. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon!"

She pulled her hand from under my shorts and sat back, with her chest
thrust toward me. "Do you like my tits, Jimmy?"

She called 'em 'TITS'! Not 'breasts', or 'chest', or 'pillows' or
anything else I would expect an adult to call them. She pushed her
tits out and called them 'TITS!' I was so overcome with her coolness
that I almost forgot to answer.

"Oh, YES, Mrs. Jones!" I blurted.

"Would you like to see them?"

"OH YES, Mrs. Jones!" Could this be true? Was I dreaming?

She leaned back and reached for the chain she had brought from the
hook by the door.  "I bought this and had it engraved for you the day
after I moved into this house. I asked one of the other kids to tell
me your name, so I could personalize it just for you."

She showed me the little metal tag attached to the center of the
chain, on which was engraved 'Jimmy' in an ornate script. "You see,
when I saw you on the street, I knew you would come to me, and I
wanted to be ready for you. If you will wear this for me, I will take
my top down and let you see my tits.  Will you do that for me, Jimmy?"

Without thought, I replied, "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

She leaned forward again. "You have to take off your shirt to wear
this, Jimmy.  Will you do that for me, too?"

I was so eager to tear the T-shirt over my head that my "Yes, Mrs.
Jones!" was a bit redundant.

Mrs. Jones cooed "Such a beautiful young man!" as she leaned forward
and licked one of my nipples.  Before I realized what she was doing,
she had slipped the clamp attached to one end of the chain over the
wet flesh.  I screamed as she released it and the spring caused it to
bite into my tender nubbin. My hands started to go to my chest, but
Mrs. Jones restrained them with a feathery touch.

"There, now, Jimmy." She sounded like my mom did when I was younger
and got hurt. "You promised you'd wear this for me, and this is how
you wear it. You're not going to disappoint me are you?"

Through tears and gritted teeth, I ground out a tortured, "No, Mrs.
Jones!"

She patted me on the shoulder, saying, "That's good, Jimmy, I knew you
wouldn't let me down!"

She took the other clamp that was dangling from the end of the chain
and squeezed it open. "Only one more to go, Jimmy, then I'll keep my
promise to you, only I don't want you to scream this time, or try to
take it off, ok? Will you be strong for me, Jimmy?"

I stifled my sobs and managed to wrench out a, "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

She leaned over and licked the other nipple, briefly, and somehow I
forgot about the pain in the first one.  When the second clamp bit
down, I grunted, and my belly caved in as though trying to curl up and
protect my chest, but I managed not to disappoint Mrs. Jones, despite
the excruciating agony stabbing my nipples.

Eventually, the pain subsided to a bearable ache, and I even managed
to smile at Mrs. Jones as she studied my face. She gave me a kiss on
the cheek, then leaned back and reached for the top of her
undergarment.

As she slowly rolled it down, giving me tantalizing glimpses of what I
had gone through all this agony to see, she said, "Each Friday, when
you come to 'mow the lawn', I want you to find your chain on the hook
by the door, and put it on, just this way, with the name showing out.
Will you do that for me, Jimmy?"

I was so preoccupied with what she was doing that I didn't really hear
what she was saying.  When I didn't respond right away, she said,
"I'll let you suck them, if you promise to wear your chain each time
you come here. Will you do that, Jimmy?"

I hesitated only briefly. The pain had subsided somewhat, and I
thought it would be well worth it. "Yes, Mrs. Jones."

She smiled and opened her arms, pulling me into the canyon between her
soft, pillowy, heavenly tits. She cuddled me there for a moment before
gently moving my head to her left nipple, cooing "There, baby, suck it
for me!"

The rubbery tip slid into my mouth as if made for it (oh yeah, huh?)
and I drifted off to another plane as Mrs. Jones breathed instructions
in my ear.  "Yeah, that's it baby, suck that nipple all the way in.
Now swirl your tongue around it. Ooooh yeah, baby! Now, honey, bite
it, just a little. That's it! Now, harder! OOOOH YES!"

She gently pulled me off and shifted my mouth to her right breast. "I
knew when I saw you the day I moved in that I'd have you, Jimmy! Yes!
Oh, Yes! Ummmmm! I knew you'd be the first in this place to come to me
and make me happy! Now BITE HARD! HARDER! OOOO, YES!"

She pushed me back into my chair and, lifting her buttocks, quickly
stripped off the lacy undergarment.

"Now, Jimmy, I want you to do something very special for me.  I want
you to lick my pussy."

She could have stopped right there. I would have done it for nothing.
Her trimmed black bush looked so inviting between those luscious
thighs, that I was ready to dive in before she opened her mouth, but
she continued, "If you do a good job of licking my pussy, Jimmy, I'll
suck your cock! Will you do that for me, Jimmy? Will you lick my pussy
'til I cum?"

"Oh, YES Mrs. Jones!" and I made to dive in, but she stopped me.

"Get on the floor, please, Jimmy. Kneel between my legs." She panted,
"That's good, now lean your head down and put your whole mouth right
where my finger's pointing.  That's right, now, lick what's under your
tongue, gently."

When I did, I felt a round little button that quickly slipped away as
my tongue traveled upward to caress a long, smooth ridge of flesh
between two softer ridges.  "There baby! That little button, that's my
clit, and that thing you just licked, that's it's sheath. Concentrate
on the clit with soft, gentle strokes, but now and then give a good
firm lick to sheath. Ummmm, like that! Oh, Jimmy, you're a natural!"

Her hips rocked slowly against my face as I concentrated on her body's
reaction to what I was doing. I soon found a pattern that had her
grinding forcefully against my face. Her scent was mesmerizing. She
had apparently just showered, so there was a fresh, sweet scent that
hung around the edges of the growing musk of her arousal. Her flavor
was sweet and a little salty, with hints of things I'd never tasted
before and my head spun as I basked in the depravity of licking her
honeypot.

"Oh, baby! You are good! Now, take the middle finger of your right
hand, and slowly work it inside my pussy, honey. That's right, turn it
as you go, and keep it wet. Now! Stop.  Turn your palm up, and press
your finger against the top of my tunnel. Feel that little rough spot?
That's my G-spot, baby. I want you to stroke just that spot gently as
you work my clit with your tongue."

I had forgotten my ministrations to her clit while following her
instructions, and hastily went back to work, trying to keep my finger
and tongue moving in concert.  Soon, her hips were snapping up and
down so hard it was impossible to be gentle. In fact it seemed as
though she was TRYING to slam her clit against my teeth. Acting on a
hunch, the next time the little bud came near enough, I bit down on
it, not too hard.  She was unprepared and jerked her hips backward,
scraping the nubbin of flesh between my teeth.

"Oh you nasty boy! Do that again!" this time she held still long
enough for me to get a good grip on her clit with my teeth. I took the
opportunity to slip my ring finger into her alongside the other,
caressing the designated spot with the pads of both.

Her hips started vibrating back and forth, stretching and relaxing the
tag of sensitive flesh between my teeth, while she screeched and
moaned, her whole body convulsing around my fingers. I was alarmed at
her reaction and lifted my head long enough to ask, "Are you all
right, Mrs. Jones?"

She slammed my head back down, shouting, "Don't you DARE stop, you
wonderful, silly boy! I'm fantastic! Keep going!"

I reclaimed my grip on her clit, and since she seemed to be tiring, I
started shaking my head like a dog playing tug of war, and added a
third finger to her soaking passage.  Mrs. Jones shrieked like a
banshee and went totally rigid from the tips of her stilleto heels to
the top of her head, which was drawn back by her spasming neck
muscles.  Her internal muscles clamped down on my fingers so hard I
thought they had broken, then she went totally limp, feebly pushing at
my head to get it away from her over-sensitive clit.

I rocked back on my heels, gently removed my fingers from her pussy,
to her accompanying shuddder and moan, and sat back on my chair,
hoping I hadn't injured her.

"Where did you learn to do that, boy?" she stared at me as though
seeing me for the first time.

"I-I don't know, Mrs. Jones!" I stuttered "I just tried to do what
made you feel good.  After a while it seemed like your body was
telling me what it wanted, and I couldn't disappoint you! Did I do
wrong!?"

She smiled dreamily, "No, Jimmy, you did exactly right! More than
right! In fact, you did so well, that I'm going to give you a special
treat.  I promised that I'd suck your dick if you made me cum, and
I'll do that, but afterward, how would you like to fuck me? Would you
like that, Jimmy?"

I couldn't believe my luck! "You mean it, Mrs. Jones?!"

Her frown burst my bubble in a hurry, and she said sadly, "Don't you
believe me, Jimmy?  If you're going to be 'mowing my lawn' on Fridays,
you're going to have to learn to trust me. If I tell you I'm going to
do something, Jimmy, I'm going to do it, and it disappoints me when
someone questions that."

"Oh, no, um I, mean yes, uh I mean..." I stammered in consternation,
"it's just, um that I couldn't believe, uh, my, uh, you know, that,
um, a, uh, beautiful woman, like, uh, you, would, uhm, you know, um,
uh, want to, like, you know, uh do, uh - THAT, uh with, uh, me!"

She smiled again and the sun came out from behind the clouds. "Well,
Jimmy, in the future, I would appreciate it if you would remember that
I don't make promises I don't mean to keep. I will let you fuck me,
but then I need you to do something more for me.  I want you, after
you have fucked me, to let me fuck you. Will you do that for me,
Jimmy?"

I had no idea how she was going to fuck me, but I didn't care, the
vision of my adolescent loins plunging my rampant cock into that hot,
sweet, tunnel clouded my thinking, and I automatically replied, "Yes,
Mrs. Jones!"

She smiled and stood, in all her naked glory, her breasts sitting high
and proud, without support, still wearing those improbably high heels
that did such wonderful things for the shape of her calf muscles. 
Taking my hand, she led me up the stairs and into the strangest room I
had ever seen.  There were various bed- and bench-like pieces of
furniture, several cabinets around the wall, and some fixtures and
furniture whose uses my inexperienced mind couldn't fathom.  Now, I
know that some of you are looking around the picture I'm painting for
you, seeking the restraints - the ropes, chains, shackles, and cuffs
that normally occupy such rooms, but you won't find them here, nor any
whips, straps, or canes. That was not Mrs. Jones' style - she didn't
need them.

Leading me to a strange looking chair, she gently pushed me into it,
and when I sat - or, rather, reclined - in its concave interior, she
pulled off my shorts and briefs, leaving my dripping shaft to slap
against my lower belly.

"Oooooh, nice dick, Jimmy!" she cooed.  I'm bigger than anyone else in
my gym class, and they tease me about it, but I can tell they're just
jealous, so I don't say anything.

Mrs. Jones then raised each of my legs in turn and settled them, knees
bent, into grooves in the chair 'arms' that seemed made for the
purpose.

She knelt on the padded floor between my legs and reached for a small
jar tucked away in a convenient recess near the base of the chair. 
Smiling, she scooped some of the clear, sweet smelling goop out of the
jar with the middle finger of one hand.

"This will make you feel really good while I'm blowing you, Jimmy."

Then, to my consternation, she took that long, perfectly manicured
finger, covered in slimy goo, and stuck it right up my cringing butt,
all the way to her palm in one long plunge!

Noting my discomfort, Mrs. Jones said, "You'll get used to it, Jimmy,
then it will feel really good! Relax for me, ok, Jimmy?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones." I grunted, trying to do as she asked, when her
finger found a place inside my ass, that when she pressed against it,
turned my steel-hard dick into tungsten carbide!

She smiled at my reaction, "That's better now, isn't it, Jimmy?"

I nodded distractedly, "Yes, Mrs. Jones."

Mrs. Jones leaned over, and parting those evil ruby lips, extended her
pointed pink tongue. With practiced nonchalance, she ran that warm,
wet organ up my scrotum and shaft, lingering for a moment at the edge
of my glans and vibrating just the tip back and forth as the stripe of
saliva she left behind cooled.

"This," she wiggled the impaling finger inside me, "is where I'm going
to fuck you after you've fucked me. You'll like that, won't you baby?"

I was not at all sure I would, but I was NOT going to disappoint Mrs.
Jones, so I replied, "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

"I know you will, baby, but first, I want you to enjoy - this!" With
that she took the head of my cock between her scarlet lips and slowly,
excruciatingly slowly, she nibbled, licked, bobbed, and sucked her way
all the way to the bottom of my rigid shaft, embedding the purple
mushroom of my head deep in her throat.

I almost came right there, but with her unoccupied hand, she pinched
off the base of my shaft, raised her head, and said "Don't cum yet,
baby! There's lots more for you to experience! Will you hold off for
me until I tell you to come, Jimmy? Do that for Mrs. Jones, baby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones!" I croaked through my parched throat.

For twenty minutes, she licked, sucked, prodded, poked, bit, and
tortured my diamond hard spear and now-willing ass. She now had three
fingers inside me, and I was eager for more.

Finally, she started vigorously shafting me with those long, slender
fingers and whispered, "Now, baby! Come for Mrs. Jones, now, ok
Jimmy?"

"YES, MRS. JONES!" I shouted, as she once again took my abused cock
all the way into her throat, and started a low moaning sound that
vibrated the head and shaft of my cock until I saw stars.  I must have
jetted gallons of cum into her eagerly swallowing mouth as my guts
turned inside-out through the end of my dick, and my asshole clenched
tightly around her fingers, doing its damnedest to suck her whole hand
in.

Panting, gasping for breath, I shuddered through a series of
diminishing ejaculations until there just wasn't any more to spill.
Mrs. Jones slowly removed her mouth from my still-hard shaft, looking
me in the eye and licking those red, red lips to get every bit of my
cum.

"So delicious, baby!" she murmured as she slowy withdrew her fingers
from my gaping butt. Reaching into another recess, she withdrew a
conical, flesh colored, plastic device that tapered from its narrow
tip to a broad bulge before squeezing abruptly in again, just above
the flat, flared base.

Mrs. Jones coated the device with more of the goop she'd used on her
fingers, saying, "This will keep you ready for me, and make you feel
even better while you fuck me! Will you keep this in your ass for me,
Jimmy?"

I nodded, almost forgetting the formulaic answer, then quickly, before
the frown could cloud her beautiful face, "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

"I knew I could count on you, Jimmy." she smiled as she inserted the
tip into my relaxed rectal opening.  I hadn't realized how much wider
the bulge was than her fingers, and grunted in pain as she forced it
through my anus to lock into place deep in my spasming ass.

She wiped her hands on a terry towel that hung from the chair, then
helped me stand, the fullness in my ass causing me to walk pigeon toed
to a small cot, from the middle of which protuded a pair of stirrups
like those in the doctor's examining room.

As gracefully as she did everything else, Mrs. Jones sat on the end of
the cot, then, in a practiced movement, slid backward as she reclined,
so that her head was near the end of the cot.

"Come and get it, Jimmy!" she purred, as she settled her still shod
feet into the stirrups beside the table, leaving her glistening wet
pussy open and available for my fully recuperated cock.

I scrambled onto the pad between her raised feet as quickly as the
plug in my ass would let me, and, as I made ready to plunge in, I felt
her soft palms against my chest.

"Go slowly at first, Jimmy, ok? Take your time and savor the feeling
of our first fuck, will you do that for me, baby?" those violet eyes
captivated mine, and once again, I was powerless to refuse.

"Yes, Mrs. Jones."

I positioned my turgid member at the entrance to her pussy, which
seemed to flower open in welcome. As I slowly, ever so slowly, allowed
the engorged head of my dick to penetrate between the slippery lips I
was almost overcome with the enormity of the good fortune that allowed
me to enjoy my first fuck between the sleek thighs of this exquisite,
evil being.

By the time my sparse pubic hair mingled with hers, I was a goner.
There was no where else in the world that I would ever want to be.
This was where I belonged. I could feel the pulse of her heartbeat
against the sensitive flesh of my penis, as the velvety walls of her
vagina enfolded me.

I was lost in a landscape of wonderful new feelings, my emotions
running the gamut from heart stopping fear to unimaginable joy, as our
sexes joined in the most delicious kaleidoscope of ecstatic sensations
one could possibly experience.  Here I was, thirteen-year-old Jimmy
Nash, nothing special to anyone but me, having won the ultimate prize
for any horny teenager! Only the pressure of the plug in my ass kept
me from believing it was a dream.

I felt Mrs. Jones elegant hands caressing my butt, urging me to go
faster. How could I refuse?

Gradually, under her gentle guidance, I increased my pace,
occasionally swiveling my hips from side to side in response to slight
pressures from her hands. Soon, she had me pistoning in and out at a
machine-gun pace, and we were both moaning our passion, but through it
all, I heard her whispered admonition, "Wait for my signal. I'll tell
you when to cum! Will you do that for me, baby?"

If my mother had called me baby, I would have sulked for days, but
from this woman, it was the finest of honors. "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

When I thought I could get no faster nor rise any higher, she grabbed
the base of the plastic plug in my ass, and rotated it in time with my
thrusts. "Cum now, baby! Mrs. Jones is ready for your cum! Will you
give it to me, baby?"

"YES, AAARGH, MRS. JONES!" I slammed into her with as much force as my
thirteen year old body could muster, once, twice, three times - trying
my best to get as far inside her clinging wetness as I could, before
blasting load after load deep inside her.

Mrs. Jones, shuddered and moaned and I got warm all over in the midst
of my climax, as I realized that she too was cumming.

A few minutes later, as we regained our strength, she pushed gently at
my chest, murmuring, "That was wonderful, Jimmy! Now, there's just one
more thing we need to do before you go home today."

I extricated myself from her clasping nether lips, and awkwardly
dismounted the cot, the plug in my butt still causing problems.

Still the picture of grace and beauty, Mrs. Jones slipped off the cot
and led me to a padded piece of furniture that looked vaguely like
something I had seen once when I went to church with a Catholic
friend.  Pushing down on my shoulders, Mrs. Jones had me kneel on the
low step, then bent me forward over the pad that came to just below my
waist.  Her soft hands guided my arms to extend along the rests on the
other side of the waist pad and grip the handles I found there. I felt
exposed and vulnerable as I knelt there, dick hanging down one side of
the waist pad, chained nipples hanging over the other, while my hands
extended above my head, holding on for dear life.

I felt soft, warm breasts flatten against my back, briefly. As she
leaned over to whisper in my ear.  "This will be a strange new
experience for you, Jimmy, but you will come to love it, I'm sure. I
know you won't disappoint me. You've done so well, so far! Promise me
you'll do your best to enjoy your fucking, Jimmy, ok? It will mean so
much to me!"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones!" I mumbled through my fear.

I heard noises behind me and turned to look. Mrs. Jones was in the
process of inserting one end of what looked like an artificial dick
with two separate shafts, into herself.  She then fastened it in place
with some kind of harness, leaving the other shaft sticking obscenely
out of her crotch, for all world like she had just grown a large cock.
 I started trembling uncontrollably as she smeared some more of the
goop on her artificial phallus and advanced on my unprotected ass.

When she grasped the base of the plug and pulled it from my butt, I
began to realize why she had left it in there.  I could only hope it
would be enough, as she nestled what felt like a bowling ball into the
pucker of my anus.  "Take a deep, breath, Jimmy, and push out hard,
like you're going number two. Can you do that for me, baby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones." I did as she asked, and to my amazement, the
bulbous end of the plastic dick slipped right in, with only a brief
flash of pain.

"Keep pushing, Jimmy, there's more to go. Can you push some more for
me, dear?"

I pushed. "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

I felt the long, smooth shaft sliding deep inside me. It hit some kind
of barrier, and I thought that was as far as it would go. No such
luck! She pushed harder, I pushed harder, and with a rush, the barrier
opened, allowing the rest of the phallus to slide achingly into my
quivering rectum.

I grunted, more from surprise than from pain, though somewhere deep
inside me, something ached as though I'd been punched. I felt her long
black hair caressing my shoulders as her breasts once again flattened
on my back. Those ruby lips grasped my ear lobe, and her impossibly
white teeth nipped at it, sending shivers up and down my spine.

"I'm all the way inside you now, baby! Thank you for accepting me so
deep in your butt! You make me SO happy! I'm going to start fucking
you soon, Jimmy, and I want you to relax and really enjoy it! Will you
do that for me, baby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones." I croaked, and magically, the ache inside me turned
to something else, not quite pleasure, but a comfortable, full
feeling.

I couldn't believe it, but as she pulled back, I groaned in
disappointment, feeling empty and abandoned. Then, she pushed back in,
and I could feel the tip as it passed my inner barrier and rearranged
my guts, sending bolts of electricity through me. She started pumping
me, faster and faster, and soon, I was returning her thrusts - humping
against her as eagerly as she was humping me.

Turning my head to the side, I saw our reflection in a mirror built
into one wall of the room, my skinny, gangly thirteen year old form
with a raging hardon dangling from my crotch, while a beautiful, black
haired, ruby lipped witch obscenely fucked my willing ass.  I was
shocked and enormously aroused to realize that was me in the mirror,
and more importantly, that the figure whose tits were mashed against
my shoulder blades was HER!

Suddenly, she grabbed the chain between my nipples and started yanking
it, reawakening the pain that had been hibernating as a dull ache, as
she plunged deep in my bowels and rotated her hips, grinding against
my ass and causing the tip of the artificial dick to stir my guts. She
shrieked deafeningly in my ear, "COME FOR ME, BABY! COME FOR MRS.
JONES! PLEASE COME FOR ME?!"

"YES, MRS.JONES!" I shouted back, rocking my prostate against the
gyrating shaft of the plastic dick, and exploding geysers of thick
white cum onto the cushions of the waist pad.

My goddess rested, panting, on my back for several minutes, her
involuntary shudders, magnified by the shaft in my guts, causing
sympathetic spasms in my own body.

As if in slow motion, she straightened, and with infinite care, as if
afraid I would break, she extracted the phallus from my twitching
bottom.

"Wait here, baby, and I'll clean you up. Will you do that for me,
dear?" she asked, softly.

"Yes, Mrs. Jones."

She disappeared through a doorway, and I heard water running.  A few
minutes later, she returned and my distended ass welcomed the warm,
wet washcloth she used to wipe the lube from around and partway inside
it. She turned the cloth several times to clean me thoroughly, and
when she was satisfied, kissed me on one buttock, saying, "Ok, Jimmy,
you can get dressed now.  You can remove your chain and hang it on the
hook by the door on your way out, so it will be ready for you when you
come back on Friday. You will come back Friday, won't you, baby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

She smiled and after I threw on my briefs, shorts, and t-shirt, saw me
to the door, still wearing nothing but her heels.  I carefully hung
the silver chain on its hook, wondering idly what the other hooks were
for.

As I pushed the lawnmower back up the block to my house, reliving
every wonderful, terrible moment of my visit, I wondered what the hell
I had gotten myself into, but it never occurred to me not to go back. 
Mrs. Jones would have been disappointed.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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