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His first time (CougarGirl and Genderbender)

CougarGirl

CougarGirl

Star
Joined
Nov 5, 2013
Location
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
I had never understood the fascination that some females have for those young men with bad attitudes and reputations. I’d always assumed that this was a phase that some teenage girls went through and then grew out of as work and family life forced them to become more mature. Until, that is, I was out for a drink with some colleagues and the wine had flowed freely and the conversation turned to which of their students the women around the table fancied. At first, there was a swell of support for Jimmy on account of his having the cutest ass, but then a consensus built in favour of Ron.

‘I’d love to take his mop of curls and run my fingers through them as he buries his face in my tits.’ That was Marjorie and she seemed to sum up the feelings of the majority of those present. ‘What about you, Joan,’ she turned to me, ‘you’ve been very quiet, what do you think of Ron?’ I just couldn’t see the fascination and said so, to be met with puzzled looks and head shaking.

Over the next few days, I made a point of watching Ron. He certainly had a mop of loose brown curls and a cheeky grin. He was also certainly undisciplined, insolent and always in trouble for something or other. And he spent a lot of time hanging around the girls, making them laugh and giggle.

But then a thought took root in my mind and over the next few weeks it grew and grew until I was sure I was right. And then an idea grew alongside that thought followed by a determination to prove that I was right.

So one Friday, I sent a message for Ron to report to my classroom at the end of the day.
 
So Mrs Roberts wanted me. That was a surprise; she wasn’t one of those who normally picked on me just to get the chance to spend some quality time fantasising about what I’d do to them. Can’t say I ever paid her much attention. Bit of a frump.

I sauntered in, late as usual, the other women like that, dropped my bag on the floor, pushed back a chair, collapsed into it and threw my feet up onto the desk. Classic pose.

‘So,’ I demanded truculently – this is what was always expected of me - ‘what am I supposed to have done this time? You teachers must fancy me the number of times I get detention.’

She looked as though she wanted to slap me, but when she spoke her voice was calm.

‘Actually, Ron, you’ve not done anything.’

Now that was a surprise.

‘Yea, so why am I here then?’

‘I just want to ask you a question,.’ Her tone was like she probably used in her class when it was getting rowdy.

‘Sure,’ I flashed her my characteristic grin. ‘Ask away, anything you want. Your old man getting tired in bed is he? You looking for some tricks to liven him up are you?’

Her tone was sterner now.

‘No, my husband performs entirely satisfactorily. We don’t need any advice.’

‘So what do you want to know then? Be quick, I’ve got better things to do than play games.’ I was getting puzzled.

‘All I want is a straight answer to a simple question. Can you do that for me?’

I waved a hand as if that was the easiest thing in the world.

‘OK, Ron,’ she moved towards me, ‘tell me, when did you last have sex?’
 
I knew I was right as soon as Ron embarked on a long explanation, always a sure sign that someone is trying to avoid the truth. With so many women in his life, he explained, how could he be expected to remember? He listed a number of girls from the school and then ticked off several members of staff on his fingers. How, he demand, could he be expected to remember?

I pulled out a chair next to him.

‘Ron,’ I said softly, ‘however often you have sex, you can always remember the last time.’

‘Alright,’ his tone was challenging, ‘go on then, when did you last fuck?’

‘Sunday afternoon,’ I threw back quickly.

That set him off on another stream of consciousness about who he had been with on Sunday.

‘Ron, why don’t you tell the truth?’ I cut through his rambling. ‘You’ve never actually fucked anyone have you?’

He started to rise, his fists clenched and his face red with fury. I laid my hand gently on his forearm.

‘Don’t be embarrassed, Ron. This is just between us. I’m not going to tell anyone else. You don’t need to worry.’

Ron slumped back into his seat and I shuffled her chair closer.

‘I’m thinking that you have created this image for yourself and now you can’t actually follow through with all the teasing and flirting because the girls are all more experienced than you now and they’ll know straightaway that you have been bluffing. Am I right or am I wrong?’
 
Shit, how did she realise? Could I trust her not to tell everyone? Even if she only told the other members of staff, she could make a fool of me? In the end, I had to accept there was no way to avoid the truth.

I raised my head slowly and whispered.

‘No, you’re right. Is it that obvious?’

‘It can’t be obvious,’ her tone was reassuring. ‘If it were, others would have noticed and everyone would be laughing about you by now. But they’re not, because they’ve all been taken in by the myth you have created about yourself.’

I felt close to tears. This was just so humiliating, definitely the worst experience of my life ever.

‘I don’t know what to do about it,’ I confided. ‘What can I do? You’re right, this is all my own stupid fault.’

There it was, it was out, the truth, something I’m not all that used to, except when I’m awake in the night and it sort of creeps up on me.

I was in her hands now. I didn’t know why she was asking me this and I couldn’t bring myself to ask her. There had to be a reason though.
 
And that was when I put my idea to him.

‘My husband is away this weekend, Ron. Would you like to come round?’

Ron looked like the cat who had just finished the cream. I gave him my address, agreed a time, and sent him on his way.

It was when I had got home and waved my husband off with his friends on their trip, that the enormity of what I had done hit me. For a start, I was going to have sex with a student. That was taboo in my profession and the end of my career if anyone found out. I was putting myself in Ron’s hands. And then there was the question of how to do it. I’d only taken one guy’s virginity in my life. It was not long after I’d had mine picked by my first real boyfriend, after which we had split up when I found that ours wasn’t an exclusive relationship. I felt the need to exercise my new found sexuality and picked on a neighbour’s son, who was a few younger. I barely knew more than he did, but he enjoyed being inducted by someone he thought was really experienced.

And then, then, what if he didn’t turn up? Or worse what if he turned up and wasn’t attracted by me, turned off even and unable to perform? What a disaster that would be for me and for him.

I checked my middle-aged body in the mirror. It was too late to do anything about the pale flesh that hadn’t seen sun for years or the flabby stomach. All I could do was trim the unruly thatch of my lady garden and find my best, turn my husband for a special anniversary, underwear.

So there I was, as the time approached, freshly trimmed, showered, dressed in my best undies and a shirt style blue linen dress, hoping he would turn up and not sure what to do when he did.
 
I barely slept that night.

I was so excited at the prospect of actually having sex. I imagined what it would be like with a woman writhing beneath me begging me not to stop telling me how much better she was than her husband, how she'd fancied me from the first time she saw me, how I was the best lover she'd ever had. I tried to picture how she's be dressed, something sexy and seductive, like she's wear on those special nights with her husband. I then I'd get so excited that I'd have to wank off.

But then ...

Then the doubts would set in and I'd lie there worrying? Suppose I couldn't get hard - she was quite old really, older than my mother - and I might not find her attractive. Or she might laugh at me as I fumbled and struggled to undress her or to do the things that would arouse her. Maybe this was all a trap and I'd find a house full of women all come to laugh about my inexperience. And suppose her old man came back early and caught and beat the shit out of me.

But then I'd get aroused again and the whole cycle would repeat itself.

I finally fell asleep at about 5 am and woke with a start when the sun flooded into my room. I dragged myself to the shower to wake myself up and then grabbed the first clothes I could find - jeans and a t-shirt - and rushed off desperate not to be late.
 
To my surprise, and despite his reputation, Ron rang my doorbell right on time. I’d already decided that I wanted to treat him like a man and set him at ease rather than like a student who was taking a lesson or some sort of test.

‘Hi,’ I said, stepping back from the door, ‘come in, Ron. Call me Joan and what say we get ourselves a beer and have a chat.’

Ron looked almost pathetically relieved.

‘Sure, yes, great, Mrs, err, Joan. A beer would be great.’

We collected beers from the fridge and settled down in the sitting room on the sofa. I had made no effort to look glamourous or attractive or seductive. I wasn’t wearing shoes, I never do in the house. And the buttons down the front of my dress were all securely fastened. After some rather stiff small talk, I decided to come right to the point.

‘Would you prefer to start here, Ron, or upstairs in the bedroom? Your choice.’

Ron looked as if this was some sort of trick and that there was more to this question than just a location. After a few moments’ thought, he answered.

‘I’m comfortable here, Joan, to start with, if that’s something you’re comfortable with.’

I grinned. At least he had learned to take account of the woman’s feelings.

‘Yes, Ron, I am comfortable with us starting here.’ My hand, cold from holding my beer, reached out and stroked his arm.
 
That touch conveyed so much. It was her signal that it was time to begin. It was her reassurance that everything would be alright. It was – why hadn’t I thought of this before? – her sign that she wanted me. She wasn’t just doing this as a favour; it was something she wanted for herself.

I put down my beer, leaned over and began to kiss her, but she pulled back and whispered ‘Undress me.’

My fingers were shaking and I fumbled with the top button of her dress. But she didn’t help me, I don’t think she even noticed, as her eyes were fixed on mine. As the last button came undone she stood up and I pushed the dress over her shoulders. She let it fall to the floor as I stood and looked at her body.

She was wearing matching bra and pants in a deep red. Nothing revealing, except for the swell of her tits. But her body was completely different from anything I had seen pictures of. She wasn’t slim or tanned and her skin had scars and marks. It was a real body, not a fantasy or some perfect model, and it was mine.

But I barely had time to take this in before she stepped forward, pulled me towards her and kissed me hard, pressing herself against me.
 
I felt surprisingly exposed standing there is front of this guy in just my undies. I don’t mind my husband seeing me like that, in fact I rather like it, but that’s different, he’s my husband after all and used to seeing me. But standing in front of a stranger who was almost certainly comparing me with the girls he met and the ones he saw on TV, that made me self-conscious. How could I compare with them?

That’s why I kissed him, just to stop him looking at me. Not that I minded, he was an experienced kisser. It’s just that kissing was one of the lines I had drawn for myself: no kissing. Don’t get me wrong; I like kissing. It’s just that kissing for me is about love and affection. It’s about sex that is comforting, reassuring, bonding. That is not what I wanted from Ron. Today was about stiff throbbing cock pumping hot wet cunt sex. Sex that was noisy and smelly. Sex that left me drenched in sweat with sperm and juices drying on my thigh as I lay on stained sheets with my hair matted to my head. Raunchy sex.

I didn’t feel ready to expose myself completely and I certainly had no intention of doing so down here in my sitting room. So I slid my hands up under his shirt and pushed it over his head to give me a good look, and feel, of this young man. I ran my hands over his clear firm skin, feeling the fine hairs on his chest stand up against the static of my fingers. Keeping myself close enough that he couldn’t get a good look at me again. Close enough to feel his response: his quickening breath, his stiffening cock as he pushed hard against me, and his hands roaming down my back until they reached my butt and slipped under the satin fabric to take a firm hold on my ass. I couldn’t suppress a gasp of pleasure as his nails dug into me.
 
I’ve heard about women like this, but I never thought that Mrs – Joan would be one. Cougars, is that what they call them? Randy women who need a strong younger man to satisfy their needs. She’s desperate, despite what she said about her old man being up to the job. She just threw herself at me, pulling my shirt off, scratching my chest, and pressing her body so hard against mine that I could feel her heat through my clothes. At this rate, we won’t make it upstairs. She’s probably going to rape me. Not that I’d mind that, not for the first time anyway. That would take some of the pressure off and I know that pressure isn’t good for performance, I’ve read about that in one of my mum’s magazines.

I felt a bit redundant to be honest, with her making all the moves, so I just responded to her kisses and began stroking her. I’d have liked to get her bra off, but that wasn’t possible with her pressing against me, so I worked down to her ass. And what an ass. I always like fondling butts, but the girls I know have small, tight ones and they don’t do much for me. I like ones that move around as the woman works, like my mum’s, but I can hardly grab mom’s ass now, can I. So this was my chance to get my hands on a real live mobile ass.

And it seems I wasn’t not the only one who enjoyed it. Joan began moaning almost as soon as my hands slipped into her pants. I wasn’t sure how far she could let me go so I worked slowly, stroking at first – that got her gasping - then kneading – that got her moaning - and digging in my nails – that got her grinding her pelvis against mine – until finally I plucked up courage and inched into her crack. She was surprised at first, I felt her tense, but then she pulled her face off mine and buried it in my neck, chewing hard on my collar bone.

Finally she pulled back I bit and stared at me.

‘Are you sure you’ve not been lying to me, Ron? Are you really a virgin? You seem to know your way around.’

What was I supposed to say? Was it important for me to be a virgin? Was that part of what was turning her one? In the end, I just stuck with the truth.

‘Sure, Joan, I know my way around a bit, but I am really a virgin, honest.’

She smiled and pushed her hand into my jeans. She didn’t have to go far.

‘Looks like we’d better get upstairs and get down to serious sex.’

And off she went, trotting up the stairs with me following, my eyes fixed on her ass.
 
Some things are really personal, so personal that you don’t tell anyone about them, maybe not even your lover or partner. Things you want to keep just to yourself. Maybe because they are so intimate that you don’t like anyone to know. Perhaps a rape fantasy – something that you would be embarrassed to admit to and not want anyone to take advantage of. Do you know what I mean?

Well, I’ve got a few of those. Don’t all women? And one of mine is my ass. It really turns me on to have a guy work on it and anal is one of those things that blows my mind, but my husband would just be turned off by it, so it is best kept to myself. I am prepared if his hands wander in that direction to enjoy the pleasure but not to let on how I am feeling. But I was off my guard with Ron and couldn’t avoid letting him know how I was reacting. By the time he was fingering my hole, I figured it was time to get him upstairs where I could get my kit off and myself under cover without feeling too much on display, so I set him a fast pace.

As soon as we were in my bedroom I decided to take control.

‘OK, Ron,’ I announced, ‘get your kit off and let’s see what you’ve got tucked away in there.’

He was rather sheepish about it, but eventually he kicked off his trainers, and eased down his shorts and jeans. And there we stood in front of each other, me still in bra and panties, and him stark naked. Do guys’ cock and balls grow as they get older? This tackle wasn’t at all like what I had got used to over the years, and I may as well admit that my experience hasn’t been entirely confined to my husband. His balls were small and his cock nicely stiff but not particularly long and rather thin.

I was aware of the silence and Ron must have been so too because he asked rather hesitantly, ‘Is everything alright? I mean is it OK, Joan?’
 
It was agony waiting for her to answer my question. I must have sounded so insecure, but I felt that I was under her scrutiny and that she was finding me wanting. I know I’m not the biggest guy around – not in Dale’s class certainly – all the girls say how huge he is. Not that I am envious – my sis and her friends were talking one say and they agreed a guy can be too big for comfort. But still every guy likes to know that he’s not lacking in the tackle department.

It seemed like she didn’t hear me at first, as if she was lost in her thoughts about something. So I repeated my question. ‘Joan, is it OK?’

That seemed to jolt her back to the present.

‘Yes, Ron, yes, it is OK.’

I could have cried with relief. But then she took hold of her cock and said ‘It’s very OK.’ I felt my dick swell with pride as it twitched in her hand.

I reached around her back and began to fumble with her bra. Why are they made so difficult for us guys to cope with. But she just grinned and with a flick of her spare wrist she had it unfastened. I pulled it over her shoulders and caught a quick flash of her tits as they swung free.

But it was only a second, because she immediately turned away and dragged me over to the bed by my cock.
 
We were almost at my bed when I felt Ron’s hand on my back and I was propelled forward to land on my face. Before I could take on board what was happening, he had whisked my pants off and spun me onto my back. He was forcing his way between my thighs before I managed to speak.

‘Hold on, Ron, not so fast, don’t be in such a rush.’

But the look on his face told me I was wasting my time. He couldn’t wait any longer and nothing I said would slow him down or make him change his mind.

‘You’re desperate for me, aren’t you, Joan? I knew I was right about your old man not being up to it any more.’

He was pushing his cock into my crotch, obviously unsure of exactly where to insert it. I didn’t help him.

‘No, Ron, no.’ Even I wasn’t sure whether I was trying to stop him or disagreeing with his disparaging remarks about my husband who was more than up to it still.

But whatever I meant it had no effect. He just laughed and continued fumbling.

Until …

Suddenly his expression changed and he let out a cry of ‘No, no, it can’t be, not yet.’

And before I realised what he meant a jet of hot cum landed on my tits followed by more that left a trail down my belly.
 
How could I have been so stupid? I’d been right not to trust her. This was just her little game to make me look foolish and have a good laugh at my expense. I sat back on my heels imagining her telling everyone what a fool she had made of me. This was insufferable.

‘You bitch,’ I screamed at her, ‘look what you made me do. This was your plan all along, wasn’t it, to humiliate me like this.’

She crawled forward and put her arm round my shoulder, but I shoved her back and she lay sprawled on the bed. She was saying something, but I was in no mood to listen. All I caught was the odd word – ‘not unusual’ ‘first time’ ‘last longer now’.

‘CRAP,’ I spat at her, ‘CRAP, CRAP, CRAP. That was deliberate, you set me up. Well, go on, have a good laugh, see if I care. Because you’re going to pay for what you’ve done.’

I pulled back my hand, clenched my fist, and moved slowly along the bed towards her. She slunk back, her arms raised to protect her face.
 
What a mess. What a total and complete mess. I’ve been living on my memories of the fun I had with the kid next door when we were both in our teens. How could I have failed to notice that this was different? Why did I not realise that I had a dangerous and volatile young man on my hands? Not a boy like my neighbour, but a young adult, albeit still a rather immature one.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when he threw me on the bed. He was so eager for it and had waited so long and had probably been awake all night anticipating it that the sight of real female flesh was too much and he just couldn’t wait any longer. And I shouldn’t have been surprised when he came so soon. My husband did the first few times we slept together and still does when we have been apart for a while, which is very gratifying. But it is a very different matter when it happens to a kid who is afraid he has made a fool of himself and will now look for someone to blame and, judging by that raised fist, someone to punish for it.

‘Hold on, Ron, hold on,’ I tried to sound calm as I backed up the bed and keeping my arms ready to protect my face is he struck. ‘There’s no need to react like this. So you couldn’t wait, so what, where’s the big deal, it happens all the time. women see it as a compliment, didn’t you realise that. It’s a real turn on knowing a guy is so hot for you that he just can’t wait to get into your cunt.’

It was the last word that did it. I hadn’t intended to use it, but it’s the word that comes naturally to me when I think about myself or talk to my husband, so it was out before I realised it. Ron dropped his fist and looked at me, doubtfully.

‘Really. You mean it actually happens with your husband? Are you really telling me that he sometimes blows off like I just did?’

I nodded and propped myself on the pillows, drawing my legs up under me.

‘Yes, at first it happened a lot. And it still happens when he comes back from a long trip. As he always says, he’ll be able to last longer now that he’s got that first load out of his balls.’

Again, I didn’t plan to say balls, but it’s what I say naturally and it had a pleasant effect on Ron. It looked liked he enjoyed me talking dirty to him.

‘You mean,’ his voice had a mixture of excitement and doubt, ‘you mean it’s not over, that we can fuck again?’

‘Of course,’ I reassured him, ‘you didn’t think I only wanted you to fuck me once, did you?’

I reached out and pulled him onto the bed beside me. He was over me instantly, sucking my tits and clutching my ass. I let him have his way for a while and then decided that it was time for a bit of education.

‘Ron, do you want me to show how to satisfy a woman? I don’t just mean fuck her, I mean make her squirm and scream and shout.’

What a silly question? Of course he did and the eagerness on his face said so without him uttering a word.

‘OK,’ pushed away and spread my legs for him. ‘Let me take you on a guided tour of my pleasure garden.’
 
Joan pulled up her knees and the first thing that struck me was the thick thatch of hair. The pictures I’d seen either had women who were bald or with small neatly trimmed patches, but hers were different, tangled and unruly. Is this how all older women looked? Did my mum look like this?

When she spread her thighs, I was in for another surprise. In pics, girls are always dry but Joan’s pussy was wet, almost slimy. She prised her lips open and showed me a little button.

‘That’s my clitoris,’ she explained, as if I didn’t know. ‘My husband calls it my front door bell, because he rings it when he wants to come inside. Go on, Ron, ring it, stroke it with your finger.’

I reached out with my index finger and touched it gently. As soon as I did, it twitched and Joan let out a moan. I played around with it, not really knowing what to do, but it didn’t seem to matter. Whatever I did, stroke, scratch, push, whatever, Joan just moaned. I looked up and she had her eyes shut and was biting her lower lip as she purred like a cat. Just like she had done when I played around her butt earlier.

‘Use your tongue.’

I didn’t take in at first what she meant, but she repeated it insistently, so I lowered my head and got my first whiff of its smell – a flowery scent of her soap and a fishy kind of smell. I didn’t fancy licking up that slime, but I tickled the door bell with my tongue and she began wriggling and writhing.

Before I knew it she had grabbed my head and pushed my face hard into her crotch. I struggled to get free but that just seemed to excite her more. and as I gasped for air I couldn’t help running my teeth over the whole pussy. That got her howling at me.

‘Are you hard yet, boy? Well, are you?’

I didn’t much like being called a boy, but I wasn’t in a position to argue and I realised that my cock was hard again. I tried to speak but her pussy filled my mouth, so I just nodded.

‘Then fuck this bitch, boy, come on, fuck me hard.’

Well, this was what I was waiting for so I just grabbed my cock and pushed it around until it found her cunt hole and pushed it in.
 
Never once, not once in all the thoughts I had had about how this would go, had I expected to cum. How would an inexperienced child, because that to be honest was how I saw him in mind, however old he was and however physically mature he might be, how would he ever be able to hit the right buttons in the just the right way to have my whole belly pulsating and my mind in a haze?

But somehow, through all his fumbling, perhaps because of his fumbling, he managed to arouse be faster than my husband had ever managed in over 20 years. I was only vaguely aware of what I was saying, of the words that tumbled out, urging him on, calling him a boy, telling him I was his bitch, demanding he fuck me.

And that was what he was doing. Fucking. Not the way my husband did – not in a loving way – but roughly, hard and fast, crashing into me, ramming me further up the bed with each thrust. His mouth was open as he gasped for air, his chest was heaving with his exertion.

And then, without any prompting, he grabbed my ass, his fingers sneaking into my crack and circling my hole. I held my breath and grasped the side of the bed. Would he dare push his way inside? Would he finger my ass as he fucked my cunt?

You know the way your mind works fast when it’s in a panic. That was how I was. So many thought buzzed through me. This was one of my fantasies. But I knew I would lose all control if I let it happen. In the state I was, no way would I be able to stop my feelings escaping. And then he would know and I would be in his power.

I bit my lip and prayed he wouldn’t notice my reaction, prayed he would cum and then collapse onto me, prayed he’d move his fingers away, prayed the phone would ring, prayed for anything that would break the spell. All I knew was that I wouldn’t be able to break it myself.
 
It was like riding a roller coaster. She was bucking and tossing me about. It was all I could do to stay on board. And the language – I’d never expected it – my mom hardly makes a noise when her boyfriend is fucking her, just a little moan at the end – but Joan was shouting out instructions all the time – shag me this way – fuck me that way – ram me long and hard.

I just prayed that I’d last as long as she wanted and now blow off like I’d done earlier. I got close to the edge a couple of times and slower down but she just cursed me and hit out at me, pummelling my chest I speeded up again.

Lucky I had a firm grip on her ass or was sure I’d topple off. My nails were digging into her crack, but she didn’t complain, maybe she didn’t even notice. And then – I don’t know how it happens – she seemed to twist a bit – but somehow or other, one of my fingers slid into her ass. I tried to pull it out quickly, but she didn’t give me time. she was pressing down on my finger and screaming at me to fuck her ass. ‘Take mommy up the ass baby, go on, you know she wants it, don’t torment me any longer.’

I didn’t know what to do. Was she giving me an instruction or was she just having a fantasy or what? But then she pushed up with a terrific heave and sent me rolling onto the bed. By the time I got myself together, she was on her front with her ass sticking in the air.

‘Come on, your bastard,’ she shouted, ‘what are you waiting for?’
 
What the fuck was he waiting for? Was this some elaborate tease? He surely had to know what she wanted. He’d spent ages tormenting her ass and then ended up finger fucking it. How could he not understand what she was inviting him to do, what she was almost begging him to do? Just how much longer did she have to lie here with her ass in the air.

She looked over her shoulder and cursed him. Her husband wouldn’t have hesitated if she had presented herself to him like this. It was almost as if Ron didn’t know what to do, or maybe just wasn’t sure what he was allowed to do and didn’t want to risk getting thrown out. So in the end she pulled her cheeks apart and hoped that that would be a big enough clue.

And then, all of a sudden, he was there, his cock pushing at the entrance to her hole. She braced herself for a sudden thrust, but it didn’t come. Maybe he had learned already that someone it is better to take things in stages. After a few exploratory pokes, eased by a cock liberally lubricated with her cunt juice, he gradually nudged inside. Taking it gently, he worked in slowly, a little deeper with each stroke, until at last she could feel his balls banging against her cheeks and she let out a long sigh of satisfaction.

When she looked over her shoulder, Ron face was a mask of concentration as he pumped her gently. This was good, but it could be better.

‘You don’t need to be so gently,’ she told him gently, ‘I can take it as hard as you can give it to me.’
 
Her ass was so tight it was difficult to go too fast and every movement made my cock spark and zing, like it was getting struck by lightening. So I worked her slowly, gradually building up speed, but it was like she was clenching my cock tightly in case I pulled it out.

Her face was buried in the pillows, all I could see was her back and her head, and all I could hear was her voice, insistent and persistent, giving me instructions, cursing and complaining. Why was I tormenting her like this? Could I see the state she was in? This was my fault for finger-fucking her ass? How did I know that that was what she wanted?

Gradually I managed to build up speed a bit, even get into some sort of rhythm. Her fingers were clenched on the pillows and her words were muffled, but her message came over loud and clear.

'Mother-fucking, ass-fucker, oh shit, oh yes, long, Ron, long and hard, ram that rod hard, Ron, right up her ass, give it to her, go on, go on, go on. Ride me, ride me.'


So I gave it to her as hard as I could but still not too fast. The most wonderful thing was that I felt in control. Not like that first time. This time I knew I could last, last as long as I wanted, as long as she wanted. I was beginning to enjoy myself, experiencing the different sensations according to how fast or slow I went, varying my position from side to side or higher or lower. So absorbed with myself that I almost forgot about Joan.

'Bastard,' she had raised her head and was spitting her fury at me, 'why are you tormenting me like this? I'll give you a good spanking when we've finished for getting me in this state.' And then suddenly she changed, became all pitiful and begging, 'Please, Ron, you can't treat me like this,' and begging, 'Please, Ron, please please please.'

I didn't know what she wanted. She wasn't giving me instructions, she seemed to think I knew what to do.

But her words were having an effect, they were making me angry. Why was she never satisfied with what I was going? Why was she complaining so much? Why could she just lie back and enjoy it? Wasn't that what women were supposed to do?

In the end, I was so angry I grabbed her hair, yanking her head back, like I was holding the reins of a bucking horse.

'Right,' I snapped, 'you want it hard, Joan, you're going to get it.'

Keeping a tight grip on her hair, I used my free hand to deliver slap after slap, harder and harder on her buttocks as I rammed my cock deep inside her.
 
What must I look like? My thoughts jarred into my brain as my body jumped with each thrust and blow.

On my bed

my ass is the air

with kid's cock pumping hard into it

as he pulled at my hair

and thrashed my ass

And worse - the humiliation -

this was one of my students

who I would see on campus day after day,

knowing he would be remembering me like this.

But I couldn't stop, because I was enjoying it so much, more than any sex I had ever had with my husband. I didn't care what he did to me or who knew about it or what anyone thought of me.

'Bitch, mother-fucking bitch, you're enjoying this right?'

He was shouting as loud as I was.

And then his abuse turned into a moan and then a groan and then a scream.

And then, and then, and then, I waited as he tried to get control of himself, but then a finally flurry of thrusts and he shot, shot his load, I swear I felt it hit deep inside me, hot and hard.

He held me for a while, skewered on his cock, until he collapsed onto me, crushing me onto the bed with a loud sigh.

I tried to regain my composure and assert my authority.

'Thank you, Ron,' I managed to gasp as my breath steadied enough for me to speak. 'Well, I think that's given you a few ideas.'
 
That was incredible. Nothing like I expected. It felt like I could go on for ever, full of energy fucking her for the rest of the day, but then as soon as I blew, I was completely drained and couldn't even hold myself upright. Nothing like wanking - I don't think I'll ever wank again.

So I just collapsed on top of her. She was saying something, but I couldn't take it in, my mind was still in a daze. Eventually, she started to wiggle and squirm her way out from under me. I just managed to roll off her and lie staring at the ceiling. Is this how mom's boyfriend felt after fucking her. That would explain why she left him upstairs saying he deserved a rest.

Joan pulled herself up and lent over me.

'So, Ron, you did pretty good for your first time. How do you feel?'

I managed a smile and a groan. She laughed.

'Not what you expected, was it? I always say that if a guy can walk away afterwards, he hasn't been doing his job properly. But it doesn't look like you'll be going anywhere for a while yet?'

It slowly dawned on me that that was a compliment, she was saying I had done well.

'So, was I good then, as good as your husband maybe?'

She laughed again - I liked her laugh.

'Better than him, a lot better.'

WOW the guy had to be a good 30 years older than me.

I grinned and she kissed me, her lips lingering on mine.

'Could we do it again later, when I've recovered a bit more?'

She kissed me again.

'Sure, Ron, let's see what you can do now you've got some experience under your belt.'

We were still kissing when we heard the sound of the front door closing.

'Shit,' she shot off the bed, 'that must be my husband back early.'
 
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