My Landlady's Dirty-hole free porn video

Another quickie I pushed out today.

I hope you enjoy the scene. Thanks for reading.

Ricky - Cambs, UK - 9th September 2019

***

“Good morning!”

Her enthusiastic greeting jolted me from sleep. Bleary and confused, I asked, “What time is it?”

“Time to get up,” Mrs Spencer replied. “Come along,” she added, tugging at the bedding.

I clutched at the blanket and sheet. “It’s all right,” I said. “I’m awake. I’ll get up in a minute.”

“It’s your first day,” insisted Mrs Spencer as we tussled with the covers.

I’d slept naked and was worried about my landlady seeing me nude. Then, as the farcical tug-o-war continued, Mrs Spencer’s dressing gown slipped open to reveal she was bare beneath it. I had a quick glance at skin I had no business seeing before Mrs Spencer let go of the bedcovers to tug the gown around her body.

“Naughty boy,” she said through a grin. “I saw you looking.”

The heat rose in my face. “I didn’t mean to,” I said, desperate for her to understand. I’d been a lodger in the house for only two days, and I felt it was important that Mrs Spencer had a good opinion of me.

Mrs Spencer rolled her eyes. “I know,” she said. “I was only k**ding.”

“Oh,” I muttered, embarrassed.

“So, come on. Let’s have you up and out of that bed.”

Before I could react, distracted by the awkward encounter with Mrs Spencer’s dressing gown, my fingers loose on the covers, Mrs Spencer grabbed at the sheet and blanket again, whipping them down.

I cried out in alarm while Mrs Spencer blurted, “Oh, Sammy, you’re naked!”

I scrambled to hide my dick and reach for the sheet. “Mrs Spencer, please,” I gasped.

“No-no,” it’s all right,” she said. “Don’t you worry. It’s nothing, Sammy.”

It was something to me. Mortified to have her find me that way, I gasped out a desperate, “I’ll get up in a minute.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mrs Spencer said as she pulled the covers away from my grasping fingers. “I’m here now. I’ve seen you. There’s no need to be shy.”

“No, Mrs Spencer, please…”

“I’ve seen a cock before,” Mrs Spencer said, casual, like it was no big deal. “Yours isn’t the first.”

Appalled, I tried to wrestle the covers away from Mrs Spencer.

“But,” Mrs Spencer continued, “I have to say it’s quite a nice one, Sammy.”

I gawked at her, shocked by her bold remark.

Next, as though she was asking for something as innocent as a look at a pair of shoes in a shop, Mrs Spencer said, “Couldn’t I just have a look?”

I was nineteen. Inexperienced. Especially in the company of an older lady. “Mrs Spencer,” I said, stunned. I didn’t say anything beyond her name. My mind was awhirl. Full of confusion.

“Just a look,” she said, sighing it out.

Too surprised to resist, I sat there while Mrs Spencer gently pushed my shoulder to ease me back onto the bed. Again, compliant as a kitten, I watched as she took hold of my wrist and moved my hand away from my cock.

“Oh, Sammy, that’s lovely,” Mrs Spencer purred. She grinned into my face, leaning over me, her body a bridge over my torso as she rested her weight on one straight arm.

“I … I don’t think we should…” I started, words trailing off when Mrs Spencer’s hand moved to my chest.

“Strong young man,” I heard Mrs Spencer murmur. When she said it, it was like I wasn’t there. She was talking to herself. Lost in her own little reverie.

“Your husband,” I said, blurting it out.

Mrs Spencer’s focus returned to the present. She looked at me, eyebrows arched. “What about him?”

“He wouldn’t like it.”

Mrs Spencer rolled her eyes. “He won’t know anything about. Besides,” she added with a dismissive wave of her hand, “I’m only looking.”

When she returned her hand to my chest, palm sliding south, I gawked and gasped, “it’s still bad.”

“Shush,” Mrs Spencer said, gazing into my eyes. When she caught my attention, she went on to say, “Don’t make such a fuss. It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just teasing, Sammy.”

“I … I’ll be late,” I said.

It didn’t work. Mrs Spencer just smirked, eyes wide. “There’s plenty of time. The college is only a five minute walk.”

Mrs Spencer’s fingers moved closer to my cock, the traitorous length thickening of its own volition.

“Oh,” Mrs Spencer said, her eyes coming up to my face. “I think he likes me!”

I groaned, humiliation burning my cheeks as I tried to lunge forward and grab the covers.

Mrs Spencer’s hand moved as quick as a snake. “No, don’t,” she said. “I don’t mind. Don’t be embarrassed. “It’s only natural. A big healthy boy like you? You’re just raging with hormones. I understand it completely.”

“But, Mrs Spencer--”

Mrs Spencer cut me short. “Honest, Sammy. It’s all right. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Appalled yet with excitement tingling at my root, I stared at Mrs Spencer, her attention down on my cock, her hand smoothing over my stomach and chest. “I don’t want to get into trouble,” I said. “If Mr Spencer knew…”

“I told you,” Mrs Spencer said, abrupt, “he won’t know. Are you going to tell him?”

When she looked at me with stern enquiry in her gaze, I gulped and shook my head.

“Well, neither am I,” Mrs Spencer put in. “So stop being such a brat. Let me see you.”

I gave in, trepidation a visceral squeeze as I lay back and allowed Mrs Spencer her fill of my nudity.

“Would you…?” Mrs Spencer started, pausing to glance at my cock before she looked into my face. “Well, I was wondering,” she added with a half-shrug, “you know … If you’d just give it a few strokes? Maybe you could just wank it for me?”

I boggled, disbelief a cold-water shock. Convinced I’d misheard, I gurgled out a spluttering, “What?”

Mrs Spencer smiled at me, her demeanour all about how her suggestion was completely benign. Just something she wanted me to do. No big deal. “Well, I just thought, because it’s stiff…”

Mrs Spencer shrugged again, eyebrows twin arches, expression expectant.

“I imagine you’ll need to do something about it anyway? Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable? I mean, don’t you need to … You know? Come?”

“No,” I gasped, terrified. “I’m all right. It’ll be fine.” Desperation rose inside me. I was starting to panic, unable to summon the confidence to simply tell Mrs Spencer straight.

She was relentless. With astounding persistence, Mrs Spencer shook her head, eyes full of pity, and I had a flash of recollection of the old film where a mentally twisted nurse kept her favourite author captive in a cabin in the woods. In the same determined fashion, Mrs Spencer looked at me and said, “Oh, no; I’m sure you’ll feel much better if you just give it a little wank. Get all that spunk out, Sammy. I’m sure that’s best.”

“But I can’t,” I said, gasping it out. “Not like this.”

Mrs Spencer frowned. “Why not?”

“Yuh-you’re right there,” I said.

Mrs Spencer gave another dismissive wave. She sat down on the bed, her hand going back to my chest like a warning for me to leave the covers alone. “Well, I know it’s a dirty thing to say, but I’d quite like to see. Go on,” she added, cajoling in tone. “It’ll be fun. You’ll like it. I just want to watch.”

I couldn’t believe I was doing it but, after a nudge at my wrist by Mrs Spencer, I curled my fingers around my cock.

“God, yes, wank it,” Mrs Spencer breathed. She focussed her attention on my hand, expression rapt. “Go on, Sammy,” she urged. “Harder. Go on, show me.”

Despite the anxiety and embarrassment, I began to get into the action. It felt good to stroke my length and, after a minute of caressing my shaft, I started to work harder at it.

“Yes,” Mrs Spencer breathed, eyes flashing fire when she grinned at me. “That’s it. Feels good, doesn’t it, Sammy?”

I nodded. “Yes,” I managed to gurgle.

“It’s making me randy,” Mrs Spencer said, attention fixed on my dick. “Would you mind if I took this dressing gown off?”

It must have been a rhetorical question because she didn’t wait for any response from me. As I watched, hand working my size, Mrs Spencer stood up, loosened the belt at her waist, and shrugged the robe from her shoulders.

I gawked, thrilled by the sight.

“I love being bare,” Mrs Spencer told me. She held her lower lip between her teeth, eyes flirting with mine. “I could go around without clothes on all the time,” Mrs Spencer continued. She cupped her small, pudding breasts, teasing the button nipples with the tips of her forefingers. “But it’s not allowed, so…”

“You’re lovely,” I moaned, eyes on her feminine shape. I hadn’t meant to say it. The words just slid out before I knew anything about it.

“Do you like seeing me this way?” She canted her head towards one shoulder, straight hair falling in a curtain to her collarbone, her expression intent.

I gulped, nodding, hand cranking my cock.

In a voice hoarse with what I took to be her own ballooning lust, Mrs Spencer asked, “Are you going to come?”

I nodded. “Yeah, soon,” I croaked.

She moved quickly, coming back to the bed. “Here, let me finish you off,” Mrs Spencer said, her hand pushing my fingers away from myself.

I croaked some garbled nonsense, shocked by her touch.

“Sammy,” Mrs Spencer sighed, hand moving up-and-down my shaft, “I know I shouldn’t be doing this. But it’s just such a gorgeous cock.” She stared at my dick for a few strokes and then looked right into my eyes as she said, “If I wasn’t married I’d be inclined to climb right onto this. God, I’d love to fuck you, Sammy. I’d love to feel this moving inside me.”

Those words were the catalyst which brought the rush spurting from the slit in the big swollen dome. I grunted and thrust, cum spitting forth, the hot stuff arcing high in a steep parabola before it rained down to spatter Mrs Spencer in an indiscriminate shower of gloop.

“Oh! Fuck! Look at all that spunk!” Mrs Spencer yelped when the goo flicked out of my cock. “That’s it, Sammy,” she trilled, delight in her expression and tone. “Come for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you like me.”

While Mrs Spencer milked me dry of lust, I grunted and moaned, gasping in joy, thrilled to be there with her, a gorgeous, mature woman with a sexy figure and delight in her eyes.

Then, as the surge abated and her hand slowed in its pumping, I stared at my landlady, reality pouring into the void left by the purging of need.

“I’m sorry,” I said, sucking in air. I was sure she’d be angry. I was certain Mrs Spencer would blame me for what had just happened.

But, brow corrugated by her puzzlement, Mrs Spencer said, “Sorry? What for?”

“Thuh-this,” I stammered, eyes on the carnage.

“Oh, Sammy,” Mrs Spencer drawled, apparently amused. “Don’t you worry, my darling. You’ve absolutely nothing to be sorry about. I loved it. I loved watching. Seeing all that spunk…”

Mrs Spencer sighed and rolled her eyes in a gesture of appreciation.

“if anything,” she went on, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I should be apologising to you.” She was murmuring into my ear by then, the heat coming off her naked body, the scent of her hair wafting into my awareness. “I came on a bit strong, didn’t I, darling? You must think I’m a right mucky old tart. But…”

Mrs Spencer paused, sucking in air as she appraised the damage and smeared cum over my stomach.

“Well,” Mrs Spencer continued, “I just got all hot and bothered looking at your cock. Then, when you started to wank…”

Mrs Spencer paused again, rolling her eyes once more, a groan slipping from her.

“I need to do something about myself,” Mrs Spencer informed me. “You’ve come but I haven’t,” she said. “How about if I had a little play? You know, quid-pro-quo? I watched you, now you…?”

For the next few minutes I watched, transfixed, erection resurgent as Mrs Spencer fingered herself to a juddering, gasping climax. After she made the suggestion, she lay on the bed, spreading her legs to expose her sex, her pubic bush trimmed, core glistening and scarlet. After that, she closed her eyes, moaning when her fingers moved to her pussy. Mrs Spencer gasped, digits teasing her clit until she slid two fingers into herself, stirring herself inside.

“God, I’m desperate to come,” Mrs Spencer moaned, stomach tensing as she worked at herself. “Oh, look at you,” she added, spotting my hard-on. “Stiff and gorgeous. Sammy, that’s impressive,” Mrs Spencer purred. “My husband couldn’t manage that so soon after he’s come.”

“It’s you,” I moaned, awed by what I was seeing. “Your body…” I muttered.

“If I wasn’t married, I’d ask you to put that thing inside me, Sammy,” Mrs Spencer said, eyes on my cock.

Overwhelmed with need, I worked at my cock groaning out, “I don’t care if you’re married. Can’t we just do it anyway? Can’t I fuck you?”

She looked at me, expression clouding as, after what seemed to be a moment of conflict, Mrs Spencer shook her head. “I know how you feel,” she said. “But we can’t. I couldn’t let you do that, Sammy. I’ve gone too far already. I got out of control. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

Lust boiled inside me while disappointment dragged at my guts. “But you’re so sexy,” I groaned.

Mrs Spencer sighed, wincing when she fiddled with her clit. “Sammy, I’m tempted. God,” she gasped, “you have no idea … But, I’m sorry, fucking is going to far.”

The frustration was huge. I was wild for her body. Inhibitions and fear had melted away when Mrs Spencer had started to rub at her sex. “Mrs Spencer, please…”

Her eyes flashed fire as she levered upright. “Sammy, stop fucking asking, all right? I’m not fucking you.”

With that, Mrs Spencer clambered off the bed, scooped up her dressing gown, and left me gawking, the afterimage of her buttocks jiggling as she hip-swayed away imprinted on my mind’s-eye.

***

The following morning, Mrs Spencer woke me again. I’d spent an anxious day at university studies, distracted by the constant, niggling worry I’d offended my landlady to the point of eviction. I avoided going back to the house until past 10 p.m. I didn’t want any confrontation. Mortified over what had occurred between us, ashamed of my actions, I snuck into the house, creeping up the stairs, the house dark around me.

I was awake when Mrs Spencer came in. It had been a fitful night of strange dreams and what felt like hours of lying in bed, awake and worried.

“Hello, Sammy,” Mrs Spencer said after closing the door.

She came to the bed, standing close by, the same dressing gown around her body.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

Mrs Spencer snorted a laugh. “Oh, Sammy, yes you did.” She sighed and put her fists on her hips. “You really wanted to fuck me, didn’t you?”

“Are you angry?”

She looked at me, shaking her head. “No, I’m not.”

“Huh-have you said anything to…?”

Her eyes went huge. “My husband?” Mrs Spencer gasped. “God, no. Of course I haven’t.”

Relief flooded through me.

“Anyway,” Mrs Spencer continued. “I’ve been thinking about everything. You know, what happened and the way I reacted.” She paused and offered a gentle smile. “I wanted to apologise for running off that way. I know it must have upset you…”

Mrs Spencer held up a hand to stop me talking when I opened my mouth.

“No, let me finish,” she said.

I nodded. “I’m sorry…”

She seemed shy as she looked at me. “You didn’t get in ‘til late,” Mrs Spencer said through a sigh. “I was worried you weren’t coming back.”

“I … I was embarrassed,” I said. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“It must have been awful.”

“Pretty bad.”

“So, perhaps I could make amends…” As she said it, Mrs Spencer loosened the belt around her middle. The robe gaped and revealed her front, her whole body exposed when Mrs Spencer let the robe slip. “I thought we could have another playtime,” she murmured. “I put on stockings,” Mrs Spencer added as I gawked at her legs. “And shoes,” she said. “What do you think?”

I couldn’t speak because my throat was clogged with a sudden upsurge of lust. My cock was suddenly stiff, the jib aching for my hand.

Mrs Spencer smirked after she pulled back the covers to expose my tumescence. “I think you like the stockings and shoes. I think you want to play some more,” she breathed, a hand mauling her breasts while the other worked between her legs. “Go on, Sammy,” she purred. “Show me.”

Enflamed with desire, I wanked at my dick, tugging while I stared at Mrs Spencer’s body. As I yanked at myself, she climbed onto the bed and, murmuring about wanting to feel how hard I was, knelt over me and took over caressing my length.

“I’ve been thinking about not being able to fuck,” Mrs Spencer said, tone low and clandestine. “And what I’ve decided is there might be something we can do about it.”

I groaned and fucked into Mrs Spencer’s fist. “What can we do?” I gasped.

“I’ve done it before,” Mrs Spencer informed me.

Eager to hear what it was, I moaned out my yearning and said, “Mrs Spencer, please, what is it we can do?”

She looked into my face, demanding my attention with her expression. “I’m married,” she said. “I have a husband. It wouldn’t be right if I took you into my pussy. But,” she added when I moaned in frustration, “because the front is only for my husband’s cock, I was thinking, if you could promise to go gentle, that you could always fuck my arse.”

I groaned, close to squirting cum over us both. “Mrs Spencer,” I gasped, “you really mean it?”

Mrs Spencer sucked her lower lip between her teeth. She looked down at the bed for a few seconds before her attention returned to my face. “Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve done it before, like I said. It was a long time ago, before my husband, but it wasn’t unpleasant.”

“Your arse?” I muttered.

“You’d have to be gentle. I couldn’t take it too rough back there. And I’d need to be slippery as well.” Mrs Spencer squeezed my girth. “This is quite a size, Sammy. I wouldn’t want it marauding around in my dirty-hole. It’d tear me apart.”

The thought of sliding into Mrs Spencer’s anus enflamed me. Lust boiled within. I was gasping and desperate to get inside her body. “I … I want to,” I said on a groan.

Mrs Spencer released my dick, the shaft slapping down against my stomach as she reached down to the floor for her dressing gown.

“I bought this yesterday afternoon,” Mrs Spencer said after fumbling in a pocket. “Just in case,” she went on with a smirk.

I looked at what she was holding which, to me, naive as I was, looked to be a small tube of toothpaste.

She chuckled when I asked, “What is it?”

“Something to help ease the way in, so-to-speak.” Mrs Spencer waved the tube. “It’s lube, silly,” she said.

“Fuck,” I gasped, amazed. “You mean…?”

Mrs Spencer nodded, eyes alight with mischief. “Your cock in my arse,” she said.

I gawked when, with no further preamble, Mrs Spencer unscrewed the cap and squeezed a dollop of clear gel onto her finger.

“For you,” she said, holding my dick. “For me,” she added after smearing the gloop over my big purple dome. After she said it, Mrs Spencer handed the lube to me, then she climbed further onto the bed. She lay on her front and reached back to splay her buttocks. “Put a little of that on my arse,” she said, her face against a pillow.

I felt an upsurge of dark, clandestine need when I went up onto my knees, cock waggling around, and I saw the dark smudge of Mrs Spencer’s sphincter nestled between the globes of her bottom. To add spice to the mix, Mrs Spencer’s labia gaped to expose her scarlet core, her cunt glistening with what I assumed to be her arousal. Emboldened with yearning, I growled and tugged my dick, ducking in so I could probe at the roundel with my tongue.

Mrs Spencer gasped and yelped, “God, you filthy bugger! Your tongue in my arsehole! Fuck, yes, lick me back there.”

I dropped the tube to the bed, splaying Mrs Spencer wider so I could get at her body. I squirmed my tongue as deep as it would reach, snuffling as I worked at her anus. Then, knowing I shouldn’t, I took a risk and licked her pussy, flicking my tongue over her clit, with Mrs Spencer moaning and squirming.

“You naughty, gorgeous boy,” Mrs Spencer sobbed. “You’re not supposed to go near my cunt. I told you, only my husband gets to use me there.”

In defiance, I slurped at her core, her essence slick on my tongue.

“All right, stop, that’s enough,” Mrs Spencer warned. “That’s out of bounds, Sammy.”

I fisted my cock, working my fingers over the shaft, arousal a hot tide as I fumbled around for the small tube.

By then, Mrs Spencer was propped on one elbow, creased at the waist so she could see what I was up to. “Not too much,” she cautioned. “It goes a long way. Just a dab on your finger. Then rub it over my arsehole.”

She giggled and squirmed when I smeared the gunk across the tight, puckered ring.

“Don’t go off at a gallop,” Mrs Spencer said. She was on her side, bottom thrust back, fingers splaying the cheeks of her backside. Twisting around to look back, Mrs Spencer told me to get behind her. “Just slide it in nice and slow,” she said, voice thick and dark.

She fingered her rectum, slipping the top joint into her body.

“Easy, Sammy,” she muttered when I nudged the cock-head against her. “God, it feels too big,” Mrs Spencer groaned.

She pushed back against me, my hand on my cock down near my balls as I struggled to get past the first resistance.

“Oh fuck,” I heard her gasp at the same time I felt her puckered muscle give in. “Yes, that’s in. You’re in there, Sammy. Fuck, shit, no,” she added on a yelp. “Not all of it too soon. God, don’t try to give my arse that whole fucking thing.”

“Sorry,” I said through gritted teeth. I was fighting the temptation to fuck into her anus. It was an instinctive urge to rut, to plunge into her up to my balls before I held her hip and really got to hammering at her arse.

“Just feed it in. Be gentle,” Mrs Spencer gasped. “That’s not my cunt,” she muttered. “It’s not designed for a big cock.”

“It … it feels weird,” I groaned as I gave Mrs Spencer all of the length.

“Fuck, is that all in?” She swivelled around, craning to see.

“Yeah,” I gasped, still fighting the urge to plunder her anus.

“Let me get used to it,” Mrs Spencer said. “Don’t move. Just keep it there.”

“I don’t believe we’re doing this,” I said, her rectum squeezing my dick at its root.

Mrs Spencer chuckled, head lolling forward as she groaned. “I know,” she said after the groan. “I’m such a slut.”

On a surge of emotion, I said, “You’re gorgeous, Mrs Spencer.

“You don’t understand,” Mrs Spencer mumbled as she started to move. “There are three of you living in this house. Four if you count my husband…”

Mrs Spencer paused, moaning as she worked up into a steady rhythm.

“All right, slowly fuck my arsehole,” she said through a gasp. “Not to fast and not too hard. Just get into a lovely slide back there, Sammy.”

I did as she said, my hand reaching round to touch her breasts. Mrs Spencer facilitated my touch by easing her torso towards me as much as she could with my dick buried inside her rectum.

Squeezing her spongy-soft boobs, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not ready to take you too fast,” Mrs Spencer replied.

“No,” I said. “I meant about three of us living in this house.”

A moan came out of Mrs Spencer, her buttocks flattening against me as she shoved back just a little bit further.

“I’m a slut,” she mumbled. “I don’t just wank you off, Sammy,” she said. “I do it for the other boys, too. Then I think about the nasty, filthy things I do while my husband fucks me.”

Jealousy at the revelation rushed inside me. “The others, too?”

Mrs Spencer nodded. “Yes,” she sobbed. “But you’re the only one I’ve had in my arse.”

Despite her entreaty to be kind to her anus, the corrosive emotion curdling in my guts prompted me to thrust in deep. It was a single lunge, cock drilling deep, an action which brought out a yelp and a groan in Mrs Spencer.

Thinking I’d been a touch robust, I wondered if Mrs Spencer was about to slide off my dick and tell me off. I’d shoved at her, her cry coming out as soon as I thrust but, instead of scolding me for abusing her sphincter, Mrs Spencer clawed at the bed and gasped out how I should do it again.

“Sammy,” she mumbled, sobbing in what I realised was a sign of delight, “do that again. Fuck it into my arse. Use me, darling. I’m just a slutty wife. Use me back there. Punish me for being so naughty.”

The dark undertone of punishing Mrs Spencer for her lewd misdemeanours spurred me to act. It appealed to me on a dark, clandestine level to bugger Mrs Spencer as a way to soothe the savage jealousy bubbling within. After a brief hesitation as I thought about it, my cock gliding in-and-out of the tight embrace of Mrs Spencer’s tight ring, I thrust again, forcing my cock deeper into her rectum.

Her response was another bubbling groan and a mumbled, “God, Sammy, you feel huge back there. It hurts a little bit, darling. But it’s a strange sort of hurt. I like it, sweetheart,” she added. As she said it, Mrs Spencer angled her pelvis to make it easier for me to punish her arsehole. “My husband is the only one who can use my cunt,” Mrs Spencer said while her head lolled forward. “He gets the pussy,” she told me, eyes alive with need when she craned to look back. “But you’re the boy I want back there. You’re the one I want in my arse.”

It all got to be too much to bear. The sensations down at my cock, knowing I was deep in Mrs Spencer’s rectum, and her sewer-mouthed assurance I was the boy she wanted in her dirty-hole had an effect. As I worked at her anus, my cock sliding in on a glide of lube, her muscle clamped around my girth, I groaned at Mrs Spencer I couldn’t hold on for long.

“Then ruin it back there,” Mrs Spencer snarled, crude in her need. “Fuck me. Fuck my arse, Sammy. Use it until you come.”

We were rutting by then. It was slapping, thwacking flesh-upon-flesh, my fingers digging into her hips while she shoved back, teeth bared in a silent snarl, her expression showing her need and greed.

“Wuh-where can I do it?” I stammered at her.

“In my nasty fucking arsehole,” Mrs Spencer replied. She reached back with one hand, forcing me against her, nails scratching my buttock and hip because the need and greed were on her. “Give me your cum right in my arse,” Mrs Spencer added. “God, Sammy, do it,” she gasped.

That was when I realised Mrs Spencer was rubbing her clit. I hadn’t noticed before because I was too engrossed in the joys of being wedged in her anus. But, as she grunted and snorted, hips working to fuck back onto my cock, I understood she’d been stirring her pussy, my size stretching her at the back, fingers working the front.

“Mrs Spencer, I’m gonna come,” I groaned as the surge bubbled in my core.

“Do it,” she urged. “God, just fucking come. Give it to me in my arsehole, Sammy. Use me. Use my arse. It’s all I deserve!”

As soon as she finished crying it out, I felt the rush begin. I groaned, grabbing at Mrs Spencer, pawing her skin, mindless to whether it was her breasts or buttocks I was mauling. I leaned in and kissed her neck, slobbering and nibbling, my dick inside her up to my balls, cock pumping semen into the dark cavern of her anus.

When I came, Mrs Spencer blurted out that she was going with me. She squealed and groaned, spasms rocking her body, my lust bathing her darkest, most intimate place.

When it was over, we both sucked in air. I was behind her, my dick still in her anus until she moved away, a sigh issuing forth.

“Oh, Sammy,” Mrs Spencer breathed. She was on her side, facing me, wonder in her face. “That…” she started, throat working when she paused and gulped. “Fuck, it was so fucking exciting! I don’t believe how much it turns me on! You were so big … It hurt but I liked the feeling.”

Mrs Spencer moved in close to kiss my mouth.

“I shouldn’t kiss you that way,” she said on a gasp. Her eyes shone as she added, “But I have to. I have to have some way to show you how I feel.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “What difference does it make if you only let your husband have you … You know, in front, but then you still let me do it the other way?”

Mrs Spencer pulled a face. “My pussy is only for him,” she said, which didn’t explain a thing as far as I was concerned. “I don’t know, she said with a shrug. “It’s just a boundary I have. My hands and, for you, my bottom just don’t seem such a betrayal.”

I didn’t understand it but knew enough to shut my big mouth or Mrs Spencer might close off my access to her anus. Instead, I asked, “And kissing is bad, too?”

“Well, yes, it is,” Mrs Spencer replied. “I don’t let the other two kiss me. I wank them off but that’s about it.”

“But you want to kiss me?”

Mrs Spencer sighed and closed her eyes. She sighed a second time, muttering, “Oh balls,” before she looked at me. “Yes, I want to kiss you,” she said.

She moaned into my mouth when I leaned in close, chancing her vehement reaction as I pressed my lips to hers and pushed my tongue into her mouth.

“You’re a very bad boy,” Mrs Spencer breathed when the kiss broke. “But I like you, Sammy. I like you a lot.”

“Can we do it again?”

She grinned, the expression impish and full of delight. “God yes,” she sighed, nodding quickly. “I mean, we’ve done it now. Why stop? Besides, it’s only my bottom. It isn’t like I’m giving up anything my husband needs.”

A moment later, Mrs Spencer eased out of the bed.

“You better get ready for uni,” she said. “Just think,” she went on with a smirk. “We’ve got three years of this.”

Mrs Spencer leaned in and kissed me with heat in the act.

“Up and get ready,” she said, then collected her dressing gown and left me alone in my room.

END

***