Servicing mom (lowblow emma and foxy lady)

It was three days now and Marcie finally understood how Angela must have felt to be suddenly deprived of her husband’s services. Three days since she had seduced John in her office. Three days on which he had returned each evening after school had finished and everyone had left. Three days in which he had demonstrated his prowess by fucking her in almost every conceivable position without any sign of tiring or running dry. If this was what Angela had been getting, if this was how she had been serviced throughout her marriage, it was no wonder that she was frustrated beyond belief. Marcie had always had a healthy sexual appetite, too healthy sometimes for her husband to cope. But she ached. Her thigh muscles ached from being stretched wide for John to pummel her. Her back ache from riding his cock. Her neck and jaw ached from eating his cock. Her arm ached from the vigorous massage that he enjoyed. And what didn’t ache was sore. Her ass and cunt felt worn out.

It was gratifying to know that she could generate this response in a man. And there was no doubt that he was responding to her. The way he watched her body move around, the way his hands grabbed and groped at her flesh, the way he responded to her touch. He was turned on by her size and her strength, so different from his wife’s slender softness.

But right now what Marcie wanted, what she wanted more than anything else, was a rest. And the closest she could get to one was to slump back on her sofa with her legs over John’s shoulders as he knelt between her thighs eating her pussy. She jumped as he bit in the tender flesh of her outer lips.

‘Gently, lover, gently,’ she cooed, ‘you’re hurting me.’

He must know that. The flesh of his own cock was swollen from its recent unaccustomed activity, which was why he had taken a break from pummelling her. She’d get her revenge later; let him feel what it felt like. But not yet, not until she had cum. She had been building slowly towards her orgasm only to have its progress disrupted by the sudden pain.

‘Start again,’ she ordered, as she adjusted her position slightly. ‘Start by licking me with the tip of your tongue, tickle my clit.’

John obeyed. That was another side to him that she liked. Had Angela trained him or did it just come naturally? Whatever the reason, he was always willing to follow her every instruction. Every instruction that is except one. He just couldn’t keep clear of her ass. Men had never given it much attention before. Her husband certainly hadn’t. Of course, they’d grope her buttocks, but they’d never gone walkabout along her crack, let alone gone probing up her ass. Even now, his fingers were inching their way slowly but inexorably in that direction. She wanted to brush them away, but that would disrupt him just when she felt herself building to an orgasm again.

She tilted her hips and pushed against his mouth, moaning quietly, encouraging him to work harder. He responded, his tongue lapping along the length of her slit, pressing between her lips, teasing her pussy. She let him continue, holding back for as long as she could, to enjoy the gradual build up inside her belly.

‘Are you hard, lover,’ she whispered urgently, ‘are you ready for me?’

John nodded, causing his tongue to work faster along her pussy and she felt spasms in her lower back. She reached down to stroke his hair, her fingers tangling and pulling in response to the throbs she was beginning to feel. With her breath coming faster now, she released her hands to massage her tits, pulling and kneading, digging her nails deep as she dragged them across her nipples. Her thighs gripped tight against his head as his rhythm built steadily. He’d quickly learned the signs of approaching orgasm and was already adept at adjusting his technique to her needs. His warm saliva was soaking her pussy, soothing her flesh and lubricating his tongue and lips as they worked faster and faster.

‘Ooohhhhhhhhhh’ Her thighs snapped tighter and her teeth chattered as the first ripples hit the muscles of her cunt.

‘Whore,’ Marcie cried, ‘take your whore, baby.’

His fingers probed her ass, but she was too far gone to protest.

‘Eat your whore’s sodden cunt,’ she cried.

Then she moved, with a speed that belied her size, knocking John on the floor and climbing astride him, her inner thighs glistening with his saliva and her juices. She took hold of his sore red cock and sank down the length of his shaft.

Her cries of pleasure matched his cries of pain as she rode him vigorously.

All four men were silent as the black guy staggered back from Angela, blood oozing from his cock. Angela spat and waited for him to react. When it came, his deep mellifluous voice had become a vicious snarl.

‘You bitch, you fucking white slut. You’ll pay for this.’

He stepped towards her menacingly. The others made no attempt to interfere, stepping back to watch the fun. Angela took her chance while she could. She stayed on the ground, seeming to cower, until he was almost upon her and then she sent her clenched fist rocketing up between his thighs, crushing into his dangling nuts.

In the silence before his howl of pain, Angela took off, hurtling across the warehouse towards the door. Behind her the black guy was now in the foetal position, rocking and moaning, while the others shook off their surprise and set off in pursuit. She wrestled with the lock, struggling to free it and release her in the seconds available before they reached her. She heard a click and managed to open the door a crack, just wide enough to squeeze through.

She was almost free when a hand grabbed hold of her flowing hair and yanked her back. Instinctively, she reached back and slammed the door closed, trapping her assailant’s hand. With another howl of pain echoing behind her, she dashed as fast as her legs would carry her across the yard to the nearby road. There were only two men left uninjured and she hoped they wouldn’t dare follow her out into the open where they would have to remove the balaclavas that concealed their identity.

The sound of feet running behind her told her she was wrong. They were younger, fitter, faster and with Angela in bare feet she knew it was just a matter of time before they caught up with her. She threw herself into the road and into the path of an oncoming car, which swerved around her, and waved frantically at a motorcyclist going in the opposite direction. The rider slowed just enough for her to jump astride before it sped off leaving her pursuers to return to their injured friends.

Angela clung to the rider’s waist, as the bike bumped over the potholes and swung in and out of the traffic. She lost track of where they were headed and did not recognise the neighbourhood where the bike finally came to a halt around the back of an apartment block. The rider reached up to remove the helmet. It was only when Angela saw the long hair fall down the rider’s back that she realised she had been rescued by a woman. The wider unzipped her leather jacket and passed it back to Angela.

‘There you go, that’ll cover you till we get indoors.’

Angela stared at the woman, wearing only jeans and a white t-shirt that revealed her strong thighs, broad shoulders and small breasts. When Angela made no move to follow her, she grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her towards the apartments.

‘Come on, baby,’ she spoke over her shoulder, ‘you don’t think I’m going to let a sweet little thing like you go without getting my reward for rescuing you, do you?’