Things took longer than I hoped, but not nearly as long as I feared. On the odd occasion when I chanced to be alone, briefly, with Mrs Hotter she would tease me in some way. A flash of stocking top, letting me have a quick feel of a boob, even whispering something salacious in my ear, like how she couldn’t wait to feel my cock spurt inside her again. In my youthful impatience, weeks felt like years. When she came round to the house, my mother was always there, and I couldn’t really go round to her place on the off chance, because how I could explain my visit to her husband and/or her perfectly ghastly son, Tommy, whom I positively loathed?

Then finally one Saturday morning when my parents were out shopping, the doorbell rang. It had been three weeks since I’d experienced pretty much everything I could ever have hoped for at the Hotters’ residence. Whenever the doorbell rang these days I desperately wanted it to be her, and this particular morning hope was rewarded.

“Hello, Darren,” Mrs Hotter smiled. “I brought some seed catalogues round for your mother. Is she in?”

“No, Mrs Hotter,” I said. “She and my father are at the shops. They shouldn’t be long now, if you’d like to come in and wait.”

“Perhaps I will,” Mrs Hotter smiled.

Today she was wearing a black top with jeans. I purposely let her walk ahead into the kitchen so that I could get a good look at the way the jeans fit snugly round her amazing behind. The fact that she teased me every time we met, combined with the difficulty in arranging meetings, made me desperate to have her.

In the kitchen she placed the catalogues on the work top. “How long will your parents be exactly?” she asked.

“They shouldn’t be long,” I said. Then, because there was nothing I longed for more than to experience Mrs Hotter again, and because I still had a ghastly compulsion to blurt out whatever was in my head, “But there’s enough time for a quickie, I reckon.” I was being inappropriate. “If you’re up for it, I mean.”

“My, we are forward, aren’t we?” Mrs Hotter said. My heart sank a little until she added, “I like that.” She winked at me, and I felt my heart beat faster. “Have you banged any young nubiles lately?”

Was this some kind of trick question? This time the truth was out of the question. Whatever attraction I held for Mrs Hotter was not shared by girls my own age. “Oh, there’s no-one quite like you, Mrs Hotter,” I said, which was a truth, of sorts.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Mrs Hotter smiled. She came right up close to me, and for a moment I thought she was going to kiss me. But then she was lowering her body. If I’d been forward, Mrs Hotter was being more forward still, unbuckling my belt, undoing the button and zip, pulling my jeans down along with my underpants.

With my jeans round my ankles, I revelled in my own disbelief, Mrs Hotter cupping my balls as her fingers gripped my erect shaft. “Are you always this hard?” she asked.

“I am when you’re near,” I said. “And when I think of you, and…”

Words vanished as my head began to swim. Without any warning, she’d just leaned forward and taken my cock between her lips, sliding them to half-mast and then working in tiny increments up and down, just as she had in her marital bed some weeks ago.

On that occasion her ghastly son, Tommy, had come home early, bringing the bout of fellatio to a premature end – though fortunately our session hadn’t ended there. Now there was every chance my parents would be arriving home at any moment, but the logistics of meeting with Mrs Hotter were so complex, a lad of eighteen had to take every chance that came his way.

Then Mrs Hotter was inching her way further down my cock. I looked on, riveted by the gleam in her eye, wondering how much of my erection was going to disappear into her mouth. She moved her hands away from my genitals to undo her own jeans. I hardly knew whether to focus on where her lips were very near the root of my cock, or where her hand was sliding into her panties, the way I’d seen in her car, the first time we’d done anything together.

Her hand was moving inside her panties as she slid her lips slowly back up my cock, leaving it slick and shiny with her saliva. She looked up at me with eyes that I couldn’t get enough of. “I’m feeling very horny today, Darren.” Then she smiled, as if thinking to herself. “Well, I’m always horny, I suppose.”

Her hand was moving quite vigorously. I wasn’t sure what to say, but said, “You are the best, Mrs Hotter.”

“Thank you,” Mrs Hotter replied. Then she went all school mistressy on me. “Now, I want you to use my mouth, Darren. Do you understand?”

I did, though for the umpteenth time, I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. I remembered what she’d said at her place, three weeks ago. “You should know, Darren, that far from every woman enjoys having a man ejaculate on her face, but I simply adore it!”.

“Yes, Mrs Hotter. Erm, do you want me to give you a facial, Mrs Hotter?”

“I’d love it, Darren. But some other time. How would it look if your parents came home and found me with my face dripping with cum?”

It was a fair point, which I wasn’t about to concede, because Mrs Hotter was looking up at me, mouth open, just waiting as that hand still moved in her panties. I grabbed my cock and took aim. Once Mrs Hotter’s lips had clamped down on me, I put my hands on her head. I’d seen that she could go a long way down, so I figured she wasn’t about to complain if I fucked her mouth quite deep.

Actually, that makes it sound rougher than it was. I was still relatively inexperienced, and what little experience I had with girls my own age had been with Frida, the Bensons’ Swedish au pair, who would probably have taken a very dim view of me shoving my cock down her throat. But I worked my youthful erection in Mrs Hotter’s mouth as fast as I dared, thrilled to feel the swift aggregation of moist saliva, watching her hand move inside her panties, imagining what it must look like down there.

“Mmmmm,” Mrs Hotter hummed. “Mmmmmm!” I continued shoving my cock back and forth, staring down into her cleavage and thinking that if it was too much of a risk for me to cum on her face, maybe I could come between her tits. That almost brought me to the boil, so I slowed down a bit.

This had no effect on Mrs Hotter, who went on humming and purring. If anything she became more animated. Then suddenly she was climaxing, right there in our kitchen. I just stood there, my hands clutching at her hair, making sure she kept my cock in her mouth while her body shuddered and orgasmic moans combined with the gurgle of saliva.

That wasn’t the only sound I heard. Our garage was right next to the kitchen, and I could hear the sound of the car engine. Shit! My parents had arrived and it seemed like the slightest shock was enough to set me off. Mrs Hotter was still shuddering, her lips clamped round my cock, as I began to spurt. I would have liked to be able to enjoy the sensation more, but all I felt as my sperm gushed out into my mother’s friend’s mouth was that we mustn’t be caught.

Mrs Hotter got to her feet, licking her lips. She appeared to have swallowed every last drop of my salty load. “Tasty,” she said. I quickly bent down to pull my trousers up while Mrs Hotter did her jeans up. In the event, we’d made ourselves decent long before my parents entered the kitchen. I thought Mrs Hotter looked a little flushed, but if either of my parents noticed, they said nothing. I imagined that it was beyond their wildest imaginings that I would be having an affair with Mrs Hotter, and I wanted to keep it that way.

I loitered in the kitchen while the women discussed nutrients and when it was best to plant marrows, pretending I was hungry enough to want to make myself a sandwich. At some point my mother left the room to fetch something, and Mrs Hotter came up to me. “Darren,” she whispered. “Can you be at the multi-storey at one?”

Oh joy! This could only mean one thing. The woman had just climaxed, and here she was arranging a new meeting. I couldn’t believe my luck. I nodded eagerly.

“You remember where I was parked last time?”

I nodded again.

“I’ll be as close as I can to that spot,” Mrs Hotter said.

Then my mother’s footsteps could be heard. Mrs Hotter moved back to the other side of the kitchen.

“Mum, I’ll be going out soon,” I said. “To see a friend.”

“That’s nice, dear,” my mother said. “Just don’t be late for dinner.”

I wondered how nice she’d think it was if she knew that the ‘friend’ in question was actually her friend, and that said friend had already sucked me off once today. In the bathroom, cleaning off after that incident, I got a new erection wondering what Mrs Hotter had in mind. I changed into clean underwear and set off. I was in such good time I could walk and easily be on time. As I walked, my cock perpetually swollen, I thought about how strange it was that Mrs Hotter seemed to want me as much as I wanted her. It wasn’t something I was accustomed to, being wanted, but I wasn’t going to argue.

I arrived at the multi-storey early, but made my way to the second floor straight away, remembering where Mrs Hotter had been parked up that first time she touched me, wanking my cock while she fingered herself to a climax. I sincerely hoped nobody would take me for a miscreant, on the look-out for a car to burgle or steal. In the event, nobody paid me any attention and I soon discovered that Mrs Hotter was parked right in the corner this time.

I saw her from a distance, or at least I saw a figure in the car in the driver’s seat. It wasn’t until I came right up close to the car, peering in on the passenger side, that I saw Mrs Hotter properly and almost creamed my pants. She was wearing the black top from before, but had pulled it down so that her fleshy mounds were fully on display, with huge, swollen nipples pointing straight ahead. She’d changed into a skirt, which was pulled up round her waist. There was no sign of any underwear, but her legs were spread. She was using one hand to thrust a pink, plastic dildo into herself, the other to hold a magazine against the steering wheel, just as she’d held mine there that first time.

The sight was so glorious, I could have just stood there watching for as long as it lasted. It didn’t take Mrs Hotter long to detect my presence, however, so I opened the door on the passenger side and got in.

“Hello, Darren,” Mrs Hotter said, without breaking her stride. “I hope you don’t mind that I started without you. Swallowing your cum earlier made me even hornier than I already was.”

I really couldn’t believe my luck. I mean, how many teenagers get to be involved with a woman with such a filthy mouth and appetites? I felt unable to restrain myself. Leaning over, I grabbed hold of her breasts. Her nipples were enormous and I sucked the one closest to me into my mouth. Mrs Hotter gave a long, drawn out moan, her body tensing as I feasted on her mammary.

“Oh, Darren!” she exclaimed. “Are you that eager to have me?”

Reluctantly I pulled my lips off her nipple. “I want you all the time,” I breathed.

Mrs Hotter smiled at me. I noticed that the vibrations stopped. She was pulling the dildo up to suck on it, making sure to swirl her tongue round it teasing me properly. I squeezed her breasts as she fumbled with the magazine. Then she took one of my hands, moving it swiftly down to between her thighs. As she sucked on the dildo, I wasted no time easing two of my fingers into her pussy. She was so wet. My cock throbbed with longing as I took her fat nipple between my lips again.

It was mind blowing stuff. Mrs Hotter pulled the dildo from her mouth to start the vibrations again, teasing her other nipple with the toy. “Aaaah! Ooooh!” she moaned. “Rub my clit, Darren!”

I dug my fingers deeper into her, my lips clenched round her nipple, working out how to rub her clit with my thumb while I was frigging her deep vat of lust.

Mrs Hotter moaned, a deep exclamation of unrestrained lust. “Oh Darren! Tell me what you want to do to me!”

Once again I removed my mouth from her nipple. All I could find it in me to say was, “Everything!”

“Oooooh! I never did get to cum with your cock inside me, did I, Darren?”

This was true. Her husband had turned into the driveway as I was busy fucking her from behind. I’d cum, but she hadn’t.

“No, Mrs Hotter.”

“I want you to fuck me!” she breathed.

“What, here?” In shock I stopped moving my fingers.

Mrs Hotter smiled. “Perhaps not here exactly,” she said. “While I’d love for you to do me up against the car, it’s a little too risky. But there are lavatories.”

The multi-storey backed onto a department store. There was a connecting corridor with public lavatories along one side, all individual stalls. I couldn’t get there quick enough, pulling my fingers from Mrs Hotter and licking them clean as she pulled her top up over her big boobs.

“How do I taste?” she asked.

“I’d like to keep a carton of your pussy juice in the fridge,” I said. “To drink…” Then I realised how stupid that sounded.

Mrs Hotter seemed amused by the thought, though, and also as eager as I was to find the lavatory. I wasn’t sure how we were both going to enter without being seen, but Mrs Hotter didn’t seem to care, putting money in the slot and saying to me, “Quickly, now!” Later she would claim that people were so unobservant no-one would ever notice, which made me wonder if she’d done this before.

Right now, though, with the door safely locked, Mrs Hotter bent forwards, steadying herself with both hands on the cistern. The space was tiny and narrow. There was scarcely room for me between Mrs Hotter and the door. “Fuck me, Darren!” Mrs Hotter breathed. “I was so close in the car, it won’t take long!”

I unzipped and pulled my cock out. It had been hard for as long as I could remember now, and I longed to plunge it deep inside Mrs Hotter. I lifted her skirt and in no time I’d penetrated her. “Yes!” Mrs Hotter gasped. “Stick that big cock in me! Fuck me, Darren! Fuck me!”

I wasn’t entirely sure what the sound proofing was like, but somehow that only spurred me on. I rammed my cock into the woman, fumbling for her breasts at the same time, grabbing them, feeling them through her top. She balanced with one hand, moving the other one back to rub herself as she experienced my eager thrusts. “Fuck, Darren!” she breathed. “That feels so good!”

“So does your juicy cunt, Mrs Hotter,” I replied, cursing myself for sounding like the unsophisticated teenager I was.

“Yes!” Mrs Hotter gasped, her hand working hard between her thighs. “Talk dirty to me, Darren!”

Afraid of just sounding stupid if I tried, I satisfied myself with driving my cock into her as hard as I could. This seemed to satisfy Mrs Hotter too. “Oh yes!” she breathed. “I’m so horny! I’m so close!”

She was too. Mrs Hotter tightened round me, her moans more intense. Then came the familiar shudder. “Aaaaah!” Mrs Hotter moaned. “Ooooooh! Fuck!”

I was groaning too. With Mrs Hotter tightening around my cock, I was close to spurting myself. “Oh, Mrs Hotter!” I gasped. “You’re so wet! You’re so tight!”

To my amazement, Mrs Hotter gasped, “Don’t cum just yet, Darren!” She was manoeuvring in the tiny space, which wasn’t easy, but I let her pull away and spin round. I had no idea what she had in mind, but as she sat down on the toilet seat cover, and I saw her hard nipples poking through the tight, black top, I only had the one thought, which seized control of my mind.

“Can I cum on your breasts, Mrs Hotter?”

The woman smiled, reaching out and grabbing my cock. “Come close, Darren. I want you really close!”

Getting closer than I already was in the confined space would have been difficult, but I shifted awkwardly. Mrs Hotter pushed my swollen bulb into her cleavage. “It was lovely finally cumming on your cock, Darren,” she said. “And now I want you to cum between my tits! I want to feel your cum sliding down between my tits! Do you want to cum between my tits, Darren?”

“Yes, Mrs Hotter!” I exclaimed. “I want to cum between your tits!”

“Good boy, Darren!” the woman exclaimed, working my cock. “Give it to me! Give me your spunk!”

“Oh fuck!” I gasped. The sticky white stuff was spewing out between those massive mammaries.

“Mmmmm!” Mrs Hotter purred. “Thank you, Darren! I adore the feel of spunk on my skin.”

“You can have my spunk whenever you like, Mrs Hotter,” I said.

The woman was so filthy it was going to be hard for anyone else to come close to her in my mind, let alone girls my own age. I was amazed when she didn’t bother to clean herself up before returning to the car, and even more amazed when, back in the car, she asked if I wanted to keep the magazine she’d been perusing. Not so much because of the gift itself, which she said was for “services rendered”, but for the nature of the magazine.

I forget exactly what it was called, something along the lines of Anal Delights, and both the subject matter and the fact that it had none of the arcane censorship about it of the magazines I’d purchased myself astonished me. “Where did you get hold of this?” I asked.

Mrs Hotter just smiled. “Let that be my little secret,” she teased.

Back then, anal wasn’t yet just another alternative on the erotic menu, it was still something barely acknowledged as an option – I at least was only dimly aware of the possibility of such a thing. I spent hours going over the magazine, hardly able to believe that this was yet another one of those activities that Mrs Hotter got off on. Was there no limit to how kinky she was?

Over the next couple of months I saw a great deal of Mrs Hotter, in short bursts. When she came over to the house, she always managed to engineer it so that I could have a quick grope of her stocking tops, boobs or arse. Very occasionally we were alone long enough for a knee-trembler or for her to give me a quick blow-job, or for me to finger her saturated pussy.

There were further meetings in the multi-storey, where I would lean over and flick my tongue against Mrs Hotter’s clit while she looked at pictures in magazines. Sometimes we would make a trip to the little toilet. There seemed to be no end to Mrs Hotter’s delight in carnal excess. She let me cum on and between her tits, on her face, in her mouth and in her pussy. In return, I treated her to orgasm after orgasm, though no doubt she was so worked up about having her way with forbidden fruit that I don’t really deserve much of the credit.

Then, one day, after a session at the multi-storey when she dropped me off close to home, she said, “Can you come round Thursday at eight?”

That was three days away. “Of course,” I said. There was virtually nothing I would have let go before a session with Mrs Hotter. “I take it you have the house to yourself?”

The last time I’d gone round to Mrs Hotter’s of an evening, both her son from a previous marriage, Tommy, and Mr Hotter had come home unexpectedly. Things had worked out fine, but I’d had to escape through the bedroom window and pull my clothes back on outside.

“Charles is away on business,” Mrs Hotter said, “and Tommy is staying with his father this week.

They’re trying to bond.” She said it as if it was a slightly exotic concept.

This sounded good. “Excellent,” I said.

Mrs Hotter gave a weird little smile. “You can enter through the back door,” she said. I was so still so innocent in certain respects that the double entendre passed me by entirely.

As you can imagine, the three days couldn’t pass quickly enough for me. Every moment when I wasn’t forced to think of something else, I thought of Mrs Hotter. The magazine she’d given me still excited me beyond measure, but I still didn’t quite have it in me to believe that she really wanted to do that. Not really.

Come Thursday evening I showered and sprayed enough deodorant on myself to kill a small insect population. “Have a nice time, dear,” my mother said as I left the house, clearly not imagining for a moment that I was off to have rampant sex with her friend.

Instead of going round the front of the house, where I might be seen from the street, I stole in through the back gate, keeping out of view of prying eyes. The back door was indeed unlocked and I crept inside the house. I didn’t want to call out to Mrs Hotter, just in case something had gone terribly wrong and she wasn’t alone, though had I been discovered by Tommy or by Mr Hotter I would have had a hard time explaining my presence and why I’d snuck in through the back in any case.

Everything was fine. I soon heard sounds of unbridled carnality coming from the bedroom. Mrs Hotter was watching one of her films, which was evidently German, since someone was crying out, “Fick mich! Oh, ja! Fick mich!”

“Good evening, Mrs Hotter,” I said, entering the room. The woman was just lying there, her eyes on the TV, dressed in a black dress with white dots. Her breasts seemed to resent being constrained by the garment, which further down ran halfway down her thigh. She wasn’t touching herself or anything, just watching.

“Good evening, my young lover,” she said, smiling wantonly. “Is your cock big and hard for me?”

No asking how I was or anything, just straight down to business. What a woman! “Yes, Mrs Hotter. I’m always big and hard for you.”

From the look in her eye, this pleased the woman. “Undress, Darren!”

I couldn’t obey her quickly enough. I stripped off my clothes so quickly I almost ripped them. Mrs Hotter moved to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs over and sitting on the edge. “Such a vigorous young cock,” she purred, staring at my erection. “So potent. So eager. So inexhaustible.”

I liked the sound of that. I was sure I could exhaust myself, though strangely it hadn’t happened yet. “You’re fucking amazing, Mrs Hotter,” I said, stepping up to her.

Mrs Hotter grabbed my cock, pulling the foreskin back. “So how many times do you think you can cum in a night, stud?” she asked. “Three times, four times? More?”

“I’ll cum as many times as you want me to, Mrs Hotter,” I said, feeling as if I could ejaculate endlessly in her company.

“Good, because I’m so fucking horny this evening I could go on forever,” Mrs Hotter said.

“Ja, ich will in den Arsch gefickt werden,” a woman was saying in the video, but I was more interested in Mrs Hotter, who suddenly plunged her mouth over me, about three quarters of the way down. She slurped hungrily, saliva frothing. Suddenly she had both hands on my buttocks, pulling me into her. Instinctively my hands were on her head, pushing her onto me. “Mmmmphhhhfffff!” Mrs Hotter gasped, her nose rubbing against my pubic hair, her lips right round the root of my cock, her mouth overflowing with saliva.

Still unable to stop any thought from making its way from my head to my mouth without filtering, I gasped, “You really are one filthy fuck, Mrs Hotter!”

The woman twisted her head, freeing herself, saliva dripping from her lips. “Be careful, Darren,” she said. “Not every woman appreciates being told that.” Then she smiled. “But you’re right. I am a filthy fuck!”

Then she went back down on me. Again I placed my hands on her head. By now I knew what she liked and began thrusting. As I pushed my cock in, saliva oozed out. I couldn’t imagine any of the girls my own age doing this. Actually, I couldn’t imagine any women doing this except Mrs Hotter, which made it all the more delicious. By the time Mrs Hotter twisted her head again, I wasn’t terribly far from cumming.

With her mouth and chin sloppy with saliva, Mrs Hotter stared at me with deranged eyes. “I’d have let you shoot your load down my throat if I wasn’t so eager for you to fuck my dripping pussy,” she said.

This time, I managed somehow to refrain from saying anything, letting Mrs Hotter turn and get up on the bed on all fours, wiggling her arse at me. They were still going at it on the TV, the woman screaming, “Ja, fick meinen Arsch schön hart!” I couldn’t care less. I was behind Mrs Hotter in a flash, grabbing her dress and throwing it over her back to reveal her curvy buttocks. Then I stopped dead.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, staring at the lump of plastic protruding from Mrs Hotter’s backside.

“It’s a butt plug,” Mrs Hotter said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve been preparing myself for you.”

This rendered me speechless. Was she expecting me to…? Right now?

Fortunately Mrs Hotter was keen to give instructions. “But first I want you to fuck my cunt, Darren! Fuck me! Fuck me good and hard!”

Well, what else was there to do? I grabbed my cock and guided it to the spot, so eager I just rammed it into her. “Yes!” Mrs Hotter cried. “Fuck me, Darren! Give me that big cock!”

“Ja, spritzen mir voll!” a voice cried behind me. I didn’t care. All that mattered was Mrs Hotter as my hands reached underneath her to grab at her tits. She was wearing a bra this evening, but that didn’t stop her nipples from protruding in their obscenely bovine way.

Mrs Hotter was extremely wet. She was always extremely wet. My cock slid with ease back and forth as she moaned and groaned. She was always so extremely worked up, always so extremely willing. Her husband must be a maniac not to be interested in her. And now she was offering me her arse. “If I was married to you, Mrs Hotter, I’d fuck you all the time,” I panted.

“Oh Darren!” Mrs Hotter breathed. “I wish you could!”

Technically I couldn’t, since it required her son and husband to be out of the way, but hearing her say it made me squeeze her breasts harder as I rammed my cock into her sopping cunt.

“You can stick your cock wherever you like whenever you like,” Mrs Hotter breathed.

That offer was designed to make a lad almost spill his load right there and then. I slowed down, saying, “Can I fuck your arse now, Mrs Hotter?”

How unsmooth was that? But Mrs Hotter merely replied, “Of course you can, Darren. Just make sure you pull the plug out slowly and enter me slowly.”

“Yes, Mrs Hotter.” I pulled out of her, paying close attention to the base of the plug, taking hold and pulling gently. There were clear signs of lubrication, but my attention was held captive by the sight of Mrs Hotter’s anus stretching as I slowly pulled the object from her.

“Oh!” Mrs Hotter gasped as the widest part of the plug passed her sphincter.

“Are you all right there, Mrs Hotter?” I asked.

“Oh, yes!” Mrs Hotter said as the plug came right out of her. I watched in fascination as her rosebud readjusted. “Now push your big cock into me, slowly.”

On the TV behind me, the woman clearly wasn’t finished, because now she was urging “Ja, fick meinen geilen Arsch!” as if the first time hadn’t been enough. I couldn’t care less about that. I stared at Mrs Hotter’s tight opening as I pushed my bulb up against it. My cock was slick from where her pussy juices had coated it, and there was still some artificial lubrication round the rim of Mrs Hotter’s anus. I pushed, watching carefully as she slowly expanded to accommodate me.

“That’s right, Darren!” Mrs Hotter breathed. “Gently does it.”

I pushed against her sphincter, feeling it yield. The sensation was so delicious I was sure I would turn into an anal fiend. I couldn’t believe it was possible to insert my cock into something so tight. I had to be careful so as not to be sent over the edge immediately. I pushed slowly, inching my way into Mrs Hotter’s back passage.

“Ooooh yes!” Mrs Hotter groaned. “Right the way in, Darren. Fill me right up!”

I pushed until I could push no further, holding still with my full length in Mrs Hotter’s bumhole. “Oh yes!” she moaned lustily. “Your big cock feels so good in my arse, Darren!”

“It feels so good having my cock in your arse,” I replied.

Mrs Hotter lowered her torso, reaching back with one hand. I reached forward to grab her tits as she began rubbing herself. “Fuck me!” she breathed. “Make me feel it!”

It wasn’t clear to me how she could possibly not feel my girth in there, but I took her at her word, moving in her back passage, quickly working up a sweat.

“Yes! Yes!” Mrs Hotter cried. “It feels so good, Darren! Fuck me! Fuck my arse!”

“Yes, Mrs Hotter,” I replied. “I’ll fuck your arse. I’m fucking your arse.”

I was totally inexperienced, and just thrust my cock into her without a thought as to what it must feel like for her. When I noticed that she’d slipped two fingers inside herself, I lost it completely. I rammed my cock into her, hearing her cry out, but completely unable to control myself as flesh slapped and I felt the that exquisite tightness clutching at me.

I was fast approaching the point of no return. Did Mrs Hotter want me to cum? I didn’t care. I just thrust and thrust.

Then Mrs Hotter gasped, her fingers working in her twat. “Yes, Darren!” she cried out. “Do it! Explode in my arse!”

I suddenly realised that she was as close as I was. If I hadn’t been close already, her words would have set me off anyway.

“Yes, Mrs Hotter!” I cried, still thrusting my cock into her as hard as I could. “I’ll cum for you, Mrs Hotter! I’ll cum in your arse!”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Mrs Hotter screamed. Then there was just incoherent screaming as I fired my cum into that forbidden passage, and Mrs Hotter came harder than I’d experienced her cumming hitherto.

It took several minutes before either of us spoke. In the meantime the film kept on running, a German voice moaning and groaning and saying things like, “Ich bin eine geile Schlampe! Fick mich und spritz in mein Gesicht!”

Mrs Hotter sent me to the bathroom to clean off. As I did so, I thought of how amazing everything had been, how lucky I was after all to have had that embarrassing accident with the magazines in full view of Mrs Hotter. And as long as we were discreet, the affair could go on for a very long time – at least I hoped so.

Thinking like this, of all that had happened and all that might happen, made me hard again. Having cleaned it thoroughly, I gave my cock a few strokes and went in search of Mrs Hotter, proud that I’d managed to get it up again so effortlessly.

She wasn’t in the bedroom, but I soon found her in the living room, where she’d poured herself a drink, and me one too, though remembering the burning sensation from last time, I wasn’t keen to indulge.

“My, my!” Mrs Hotter said, eyeing my erection. “You really are a virile young stud, aren’t you Darren?”

I liked the sound of that, and took a sip of the drink against my better judgement. “Well, you turn me on so, Mrs Hotter,” I said with a splutter.

“Yes, Mrs Hotter,” said. She eyed my erection again, as if she wanted to gobble it up. Then she said, “Sit! We need to talk!”

She said it in the way grown-ups did when they had something bad to impart. Was she about to tell me she couldn’t see me anymore? I didn’t know. I sat.

Mrs Hotter remained standing. “Much as it pains me,” she said. “I feel I need to be a responsible adult and explain certain things to you, Darren.” This wasn’t what I wanted at all, but I let her continue. “You do understand that not every woman is like me?”

This I could answer. “I think you’re exceptional, Mrs Hotter.”

“Yes,” Mrs Hotter smiled. “In all kinds of ways.” She paused to take a sip of her drink. “I like to think of myself as uncommonly liberated, Darren. I like getting down and dirty, and I’m not ashamed of myself for liking pretty much every sex act you can imagine.”

“I like that about you, Mrs Hotter,” I said, thinking that my imagination was probably as nothing compared to hers.

“Yes, Darren.” She took another sip of her drink. “Still, it’s important that you understand that I’m the exception rather than the rule. I don’t want you thinking that every women you meet is going to let you fuck her arse, or be willing to let you empty your balls all over her face.”

If nothing else, my far from encouraging experiences with girls my own age had taught me something of the kind. I wanted to ask Mrs Hotter if there was any way of identifying women like her, if there was some distinguishing mark, or even if they had their own club, so that I didn’t have to waste my time trying it on with females who were less liberated than her. Instead I said, “I understand, Mrs Hotter. I know I’m very lucky to… With you…”

Mrs Hotter swirled the liquid in her glass, a smile playing on her lips. She seemed to have tired of the lecture now, because she said, with characteristic directness, “With someone who’s perpetually horny, you mean?”

I took another sip of my drink to stop myself from saying something stupid. As I did so, Mrs Hotter lifted her dress, revealing her fuzz to me again. She slid two fingers inside herself and worked them a little. As she moved towards me, she pulled her fingers out. Then she was holding them in front of my face. “Taste me!” she said.

I opened my mouth and let her feed me her fingers, the sweet taste of her so much more agreeable than the alcoholic beverage. “Do I taste good?” she said, as she pulled her fingers back out.

I decided to let actions speak louder than words. Mrs Hotter was still holding her dress up with one hand, and I could easily lean forwards, grab her buttocks and push my face against her sex. “Oh Darren!” Mrs Hotter breathed, adjusting her hands, so that she could keep the dress up while parting her pussy lips. I slithered my tongue over her pink crevice, exulting in the slick, glistening evidence that she was still every bit as eager as I was.

“Oh Darren!” Mrs Hotter breathed again. “That’s so good! I love the feel of your tongue!”

I teased Mrs Hotter’s entrance with the tip of my tongue, feeling moisture leaking out. I tried my best to scoop it up, pushing it before me towards her clit while I squeezed her buttocks hard. After lashing at her nub, I slid my tongue back down, moving it thus from hole to clit several times.

“Aaaaaaah!” Mrs Hotter moaned. “I’m so horny! I’ll do anything you want me to, Darren!”

By now I knew this very well, and all I could think of was how marvellous it had felt with her sphincter squeezing my hard cock. I moved a hand across a buttock, easing a finger into her bum crack. Mrs Hotter moaned lasciviously as I kept working my tongue back and forth across her slippery sex. After a bit of fumbling, my finger found her anus, and I gave a little push.

“Aaaaah!” Mrs Hotter gasped. “If you stick your finger in me now I’ll cum, Darren!”

Well why not? I pushed, but Mrs Hotter clenched her buttocks, preventing my finger from entering her. “I don’t want to cum just yet, Darren!” There was a little pause, then in her best seductive voice, “I want to feel your cock everywhere!” She let go of the dress, which draped itself on top of my head. I couldn’t see, but I kept moving my tongue from clit to hole and back again.

But her pussy disappeared from my mouth. Mrs Hotter was lowering herself. When the dress had disentangled itself from my head, I saw that she had pulled it and her bra down beneath her boobs. She was staring at me with a frightening intensity in her eyes, hands cupping her massive melons. “Stick your cock between my tits,” she breathed, leaning forwards.

So I grabbed my cock and adjusted my position, letting go once Mrs Hotter had wrapped her magnificent globes round my throbbing organ. She pushed, massaging my cock with her huge mammaries as I reached out to squeeze her nipples.

“Oh Darren!” Mrs Hotter breathed. “I want you to fuck me so hard! I want you to fuck my cunt and my arse. I want to feel your finger in my backside while I sit on your cock! I want to come over and over on your hard cock. I want to sit on your face and squirt, and I want to feel your hot cum all over my face!”

If she wanted to do all that, this was going to be some marathon, but I wasn’t complaining. “Oh, Mrs Hotter!” I gasped. “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

It appeared that for the moment at least, Mrs Hotter was content for me to do nothing but stay put. She unwrapped my throbbing cock from her tits, but only to bring her head down. She slithered her soft, moist tongue up and down my shaft, murmuring, “Just a little taste. Then you can do whatever you want. What do you want to do to me Darren?”

Her lips slid down over my cock. I had my hands on her head, pulling at long strands of golden hair. I couldn’t get the events of earlier this evening out of my mind. “I want to fuck your arse again,” I breathed. “I want to put my cock back in your tight arse.”

“Mmmmm,” Mrs Hotter purred, head bobbing as her lips gripped me hard, suction building. I noticed that she had her hand between her thighs, but was more preoccupied with her mouth and the way she was dangerously close to bringing me off before we’d got to do any of the things she’d said.

Then disaster struck. “Mum! What are you doing?” a voice cried.

I looked up, straight into the eyes of my Nemesis, Mrs Hotter’s son, Tommy. The angle was such that he couldn’t actually see anything, but between my being naked and his mum with her dress covering none of her back and her head bobbing, the picture must have been crystal clear anyway.

To Mrs Hotter’s credit, she remained remarkably calm, sliding her lips off my cock to cry, “Avert your eyes, son!”

Tommy did more than that, storming out of the room. Almost immediately a door slammed.

By then the shock had set me off. Mrs Hotter seemed completely unconcerned, grabbing my cock and wiping it over her face as the sperm bubbled out of me. Unfortunately there was little pleasure to be had. I was too vexed by Tommy’s sudden appearance. What was the little prick playing at? He wasn’t even supposed to be here. How had we not heard him come in? Did he always have to be the bane of my life?

There was, however, an upside to events. Tommy was, understandably, minded to punch my lights out until I persuaded him that it would be very unfortunate if I happened to let slip to people we both knew that I’d been screwing his mum for the past few months. An uneasy truce ensued. We would never like each other, but at least Tommy now pretended I didn’t exist instead of being an active arsehole.

The downside was that Tommy made his mother agree not to satisfy her carnal appetites with me again, in exchange for which he would say nothing to his step-father about what he now knew.

Still, things weren’t all bad. About a week after my last visit to Mrs Hotter’s, she came round to our place to see my mother. With my mum briefly out of the room, she sat down next to me and said, “You know Mrs Craddock two doors down from me?”

“Yes,” I said. “What about her?”

“Well, she gets lonely, poor thing. Her husband travels a lot in his work. I happen to know that she’d welcome some company.”

I could hardly believe what I believed Mrs Hotter was implying. “You mean…”

“If you’re willing, she’s quite happy to entertain you this coming Wednesday evening. Sevenish say.” Then the woman winked suggestively. “Shall I tell her to expect you?”

“Is she liberated, like you?”

Mrs Hotter smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be very accommodating in all kinds of ways," she said.