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My best mate at school was a lad called John Morgan, who lived in the same street as me. John’s dad was a lawyer and very intimidating – dark suits, grey beard, bald head and permanent scowl. Mrs Morgan by contrast was lovely, a tanned gym bunny who seemed to spend her life pottering around their house in tracksuit bottoms and tight t-shirts, much to my delight.
One day I popped over to borrow one of John’s videos. John and his dad were was out, but Mrs Morgan was her usual happy bouncy self. “Come in, I think it’s in the VCR already” she said and turned on the television. The screen burst into life and there, in glorious technicolour, was Mrs Morgan, slurping away on an absolute monster of a cock. “Oh my god” she squealed, her hands shooting to her mouth as she spun around to face me and my instantly hard cock straining up against my tight shorts.
“Oh. My. God!” she squealed again, “You horny little man! Don’t tell me you like looking at that filth.” All I could do was nod like a little idiot. “Well then” she said, “why don’t we enjoy the show together.” With that, she came and sat on the sofa behind me, opening her legs and pulling me in between them so that I stood there, my back against those incredible tits, her legs either side of me and her head looking over my shoulder. Then she put her left hand down to my zipper, and pulled out my young hard cock. “Tell me what you see on the screen” she whispered in my ear, as she started pumping her little fist up and down, wanking me off, right there in their family living room. On the screen, Mrs Morgan was on her knees, looking back at the camera, as Mr Morgan stuffed his absolutely huge cock into her tiny arsehole. “Mmm, look how he stretches my bum” she whispered into my ear, increasing the speed of her wrist as she talked.
It was too much, and my legs started to shake as the warm feeling of cum started work its way through my balls. “Not on the carpet little man” she said sternly, lifting her left leg straight out in front of her. Then she turned me sideways, and pumped a gushing jet of hot semen out over her tracksuit, while the Mrs Morgan on the telly screamed in ecstasy as Mr Morgan grunted and shot a torrent of jizz all over her tight tanned arse. I came so hard my legs started to buckle, and she laughed as she steadied me. “Good boy” she said, patting me on the arse, “that will do for today. Your tape is over there on the table where John left it. Off you pop now, I seem to have some clothes washing I need to do”. And with that I pushed my leaking cock back into my shorts and bolted for the door like a rabbit in the woods. She was right, it was only the start of a few adventures, but that’s another story.

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