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From: Shakes Peer2B <shakes-peer2b@sbcglobal.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Me and Mrs. Jones - Chapter 1: We Get a Thing Goin' On (F/m oral anal toys Fdom?)
Date: Tue,  1 Jul 2003 20:10:03 -0400
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Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

There is more of the House in the Woods set to come, but I had the idea 
for this one, and wanted to get it started while it was still fresh in 
my mind, and it didn't fit within the premise of the House in the Woods.

Please let me know what you think, as this is somewhat different than 
the other stories I've posted - if the feedback is good, there'll be 
more chapters of this.
________________________________
This is a story about a sexual FANTASY written for consenting adults. If 
you're not both of those, don't read it.  Characters in a FANTASY don't 
get sick or die unless I want them to. In real life, people who don't 
use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do get sick and die. You don't 
live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional characters in my stories 
are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY - don't try to do what 
they do - someone could get hurt.

If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here, 
congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the 
characters in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, 
since all of these characters are figments of my dirty little imagination.

This is my story, not yours. Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. You 
can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact, but 
if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and pissing me off.
_________________________________
I don't recall having seen a story or series titled "Me and Mrs. Jones" 
before, but I would be surprised if there weren't several out there - 
it's such a natural for this sort of story.  Anyway, my apologies to 
anyone who might have used it before, but I couldn't think of a better 
title for this series!
_________________________________
Me and Mrs. Jones - Chapter 1: We Get a Thing Goin' On (F/m oral anal 
toys Fdom?)
(C)Copyright 2003 - Shakes Peer2B
shakes-peer2b@sbcglobal.net

"Me-e-e and Mrs.,
Mrs. Jones,
Mrs. Jones,
Mrs. Jones
We got a thiiing, goin' on..."

That song fragment (if I ever knew the rest of the lyrics, I forgot them 
long ago) has been playing in my head for the last twenty-five years and 
change, ever since I made the fateful decision to disobey my parents and 
ask Mrs. Jones if I could mow her lawn.

When I was thirteen, Mrs. Jones moved into the house on the corner of my 
block - the one surrounded by high hedges, so that you could only catch 
glimpses of the roof as you passed.  There was a Mr. Jones, as well, but 
no one ever talked about him, unless it was to sympathize with the poor man.

Rumors flew from the day Mrs. Jones first stuck those long sleek legs 
out the door of her brand new Jaguar and held her hand just so, for Mr. 
Jones to help her out. Without visible effort, the two of them got the 
rest of her impressive physique stacked atop those long slender columns 
supported by impossibly high heels, and, all laws of physics to the 
contrary, when Mr. Jones released her hand, she stood, nonchalantly 
surveying, through her stylish sunglasses, those of us who stood gawping 
at this extraordinary creature, whose straight black, ass length hair, 
wafted gently in the afternoon breeze.

Like a sniper looking for a target, she scanned the faces of the lookers 
on, slowly  turning her head from one side to the other.  When she 
spotted me, leaning on the handle of the lawnmower I had been pushing up 
the street, she stopped, removed her sunglasses and smiled, just a little.

BANG! I didn't hear the shot, but I felt the impact as it hit me right 
in the heart (or, perhaps, a foot or so lower).  From that moment, I was 
lost.

My parents, of course, and all the neighbors, were abuzz with 
declarations of what a brazen hussy that Mrs. Jones had to be, strutting 
around in those tight dresses, showing all that cleavage, and flirting 
with just about everybody, including girls and women!

I was expressly forbidden from going anywhere near the Jones residence, 
and was not to offer to do any work for the witch.

"She's EVIL!" my mother practically screamed, spittle flying from the 
corners of her mouth, when I dared to ask why.

I believed her. Mrs. Jones LOOKED evil. Her dark eyebrows arched 
dangerously over violet eyes that pierced right to the depths of my soul 
when she looked at me. Her perfect nose topped full, moist, sensuous, 
scarlet lips, that wore a tiny perpetual smile, as if she knew something 
the rest of us didn't.  Her high, full breasts seemed never to be 
covered much beyond the nipple, and her bare, slender waist flared into 
a wide, flat pelvis that framed perfectly her bejeweled navel (this was 
years before navel jewelry became a fashion overstatement) and softly 
rounded lower belly.

Most often, she wore skintight short-shorts or micro-mini skirts, when 
she was in public, to accentuate the length and curvature of her 
luscious legs.  To this day, I don't recall ever seeing her feet clad in 
anything less than four inch heels.

She must have been five-eight or -nine, but to my smitten 
thirteen-year-old eyes, she looked to be at least twelve feet tall.

She was evil, all right, but to me, she was also irresistable.  I waited 
a week after my mother forbade me to go near her before wheeling my 
lawnmower through the gate in the hedge and knocking on her front door.

When she opened the inner door, saying "Yes?", I almost fell backwards 
off the step. There, with nothing between us but a thin layer of screen, 
was my dream woman, wearing nothing but a frilly black lace see-through 
garment that started at her crotch and swooped high above her hipbones, 
leaving her hips and much of her buttocks and sides bare, before flaring 
out to tightly embrace her magnificent torso and lovingly cradle those 
marvelous mounds, once again covering them to just above the nipples. I 
was in heaven and hell at the same time.  I could see more of this 
gorgeous creature than I had ever dreamed possible, but seemingly 
unintentionally, the lace pattern hid the part of her breasts I most 
wanted to see. I must have stood transfixed for some time, staring at 
her breasts, catching a tiny glimpse of the edge of an aureola, but 
never seeing the prize.

"Jimmy, isn't it?" she asked in a sultry, bedroom voice.

I swallowed hard, nodding, and with a herculean effort, managed to tear 
my gaze from her chest, only to find those strange violet eyes burning 
holes through the screen, while the smile grew on her ruby lips.

I had just enough presence of mind to step out of the way as she pushed 
the screen open and pretended to stand aside, so I could come in.  There 
was no way I could get through that door without brushing against her 
breasts, unless I really wanted to embarrass myself by ducking under 
them, so, red-faced and holding my breath, I flattened my back against 
the door-jamb and tried to slip inside without doing too much touching. 
  As I came abreast of her (no pun intended, but what the hell, if you 
like it, go with it!) she made a slight movement while allowing the 
screen door to close, and to my utter mortification, her hip brushed 
against my raging hard-on as it tried to rip a hole in my jean shorts 
while her breasts mashed themselves into my chest.

Her smile seemed to get even wider, but without pausing, she took a 
short silver chain off a hook by the door and beckoned me to follow her.

I don't know who kept her house clean, since I couldn't see her doing 
housework, but the place was immaculate.  She led me to the small table 
in the kitchen, on which lay a newspaper and a steaming cup of coffee. 
She motioned me to the chair next to hers and turned that gigawatt smile 
on me.

"How much do you charge for mowing lawns, Jimmy?"

"I - How? - Uh, what I mean...!" I floundered for a bit, wondering if 
she could read my mind.

She smiled even brighter. "I saw the lawnmower on the walkway, Jimmy, it 
wasn't hard to guess!"

I felt like the world's biggest fool. "Oh, uh, yeah. Uh, anyway, what I 
charge depends on, you know, uh, the size of the yard 'n stuff."

She placed a soft, well-manicured hand on my bare thigh and brought her 
face close to mine, whispering throatily, "So, for a yard the size of 
mine, what would you charge?"

I couldn't tear my gaze from her lips as the tip of her tongue played 
slowly around them. "I, uh, well, uh, maybe, uh ten bucks?" Her yard was 
huge, and I would have charged anyone else twice that, but I thought 
that if I gave her a big discount, I'd have a better chance of getting 
the job - hell, I'd have done it for free, just for the chance to see 
her now and then.

Her forefinger traced a line up my thigh to the frayed hem of my shorts. 
"I'm going to tell you a secret, Jimmy.  I have a gardener who mows my 
lawn, but if you will wheel your lawnmower over here every friday, we'll 
do 'stuff' together while my gardener mows the lawn, and I'll send you 
home with a nice crisp twenty dollar bill.  Will you do that for me?"

She was practically nibbling my ear, now, and the finger had progressed 
well beyond the tatters of my shorts-leg to scratch gently at the 
outside of my briefs and send shivers up my spine.

I could barely catch my breath, hardly daring to believe that this 
lovely, dangerous woman was actually coming on to me, a 
thirteen-year-old virgin! "Uh, ok, uh, I guess?"

She pulled her face away from mine, frowning a bit, but her finger 
continued to work its magic in my shorts. "From now on Jimmy, when I ask 
you a 'yes or no' question, I'd prefer if you answered 'Yes, Mrs. Jones' 
or 'No, Mrs. Jones'. Will you do that for me Jimmy?"

Her finger had now insinuated itself through the flap of my briefs and 
was gently stroking the hard shaft of my teenage cock. I cleared my 
throat, which had suddenly gone dry. "Uh, Yes, Mrs. Jones."

She smiled and leaned forward again, pushing another finger into my 
underwear alongside the other. "That's much better, Jimmy, but next 
time, no 'Uh', please?"

"U...I mean, Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

"We'll work on that. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon!"

She pulled her hand from under my shorts and sat back, with her chest 
thrust toward me. "Do you like my tits, Jimmy?"

She called 'em 'TITS'! Not 'breasts', or 'chest', or 'pillows' or 
anything else I would expect an adult to call them. She pushed her tits 
out and called them 'TITS!' I was so overcome with her coolness that I 
almost forgot to answer.

"Oh, YES, Mrs. Jones!" I blurted.

"Would you like to see them?"

"OH YES, Mrs. Jones!" Could this be true? Was I dreaming?

She leaned back and reached for the chain she had brought from the hook 
by the door.  "I bought this and had it engraved for you the day after I 
moved into this house. I asked one of the other kids to tell me your 
name, so I could personalize it just for you."

She showed me the little metal tag attached to the center of the chain, 
on which was engraved 'Jimmy' in an ornate script. "You see, when I saw 
you on the street, I knew you would come to me, and I wanted to be ready 
for you. If you will wear this for me, I will take my top down and let 
you see my tits.  Will you do that for me, Jimmy?"

Without thought, I replied, "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

She leaned forward again. "You have to take off your shirt to wear this, 
Jimmy.  Will you do that for me, too?"

I was so eager to tear the T-shirt over my head that my "Yes, Mrs. 
Jones!" was a bit redundant.

Mrs. Jones cooed "Such a beautiful young man!" as she leaned forward and 
licked one of my nipples.  Before I realized what she was doing, she had 
slipped the clamp attached to one end of the chain over the wet flesh. 
I screamed as she released it and the spring caused it to bite into my 
tender nubbin. My hands started to go to my chest, but Mrs. Jones 
restrained them with a feathery touch.

"There, now, Jimmy." She sounded like my mom did when I was younger and 
got hurt. "You promised you'd wear this for me, and this is how you wear 
it. You're not going to disappoint me are you?"

Through tears and gritted teeth, I ground out a tortured, "No, Mrs. Jones!"

She patted me on the shoulder, saying, "That's good, Jimmy, I knew you 
wouldn't let me down!"

She took the other clamp that was dangling from the end of the chain and 
squeezed it open. "Only one more to go, Jimmy, then I'll keep my promise 
to you, only I don't want you to scream this time, or try to take it 
off, ok? Will you be strong for me, Jimmy?"

I stifled my sobs and managed to wrench out a, "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

She leaned over and licked the other nipple, briefly, and somehow I 
forgot about the pain in the first one.  When the second clamp bit down, 
I grunted, and my belly caved in as though trying to curl up and protect 
my chest, but I managed not to disappoint Mrs. Jones, despite the 
excruciating agony stabbing my nipples.

Eventually, the pain subsided to a bearable ache, and I even managed to 
smile at Mrs. Jones as she studied my face. She gave me a kiss on the 
cheek, then leaned back and reached for the top of her undergarment.

As she slowly rolled it down, giving me tantalizing glimpses of what I 
had gone through all this agony to see, she said, "Each Friday, when you 
come to 'mow the lawn', I want you to find your chain on the hook by the 
door, and put it on, just this way, with the name showing out. Will you 
do that for me, Jimmy?"

I was so preoccupied with what she was doing that I didn't really hear 
what she was saying.  When I didn't respond right away, she said, "I'll 
let you suck them, if you promise to wear your chain each time you come 
here. Will you do that, Jimmy?"

I hesitated only briefly. The pain had subsided somewhat, and I thought 
it would be well worth it. "Yes, Mrs. Jones."

She smiled and opened her arms, pulling me into the canyon between her 
soft, pillowy, heavenly tits. She cuddled me there for a moment before 
gently moving my head to her left nipple, cooing "There, baby, suck it 
for me!"

The rubbery tip slid into my mouth as if made for it (oh yeah, huh?) and 
I drifted off to another plane as Mrs. Jones breathed instructions in my 
ear.  "Yeah, that's it baby, suck that nipple all the way in. Now swirl 
your tongue around it. Ooooh yeah, baby! Now, honey, bite it, just a 
little. That's it! Now, harder! OOOOH YES!"

She gently pulled me off and shifted my mouth to her right breast. "I 
knew when I saw you the day I moved in that I'd have you, Jimmy! Yes! 
Oh, Yes! Ummmmm! I knew you'd be the first in this place to come to me 
and make me happy! Now BITE HARD! HARDER! OOOO, YES!"

She pushed me back into my chair and, lifting her buttocks, quickly 
stripped off the lacy undergarment.

"Now, Jimmy, I want you to do something very special for me.  I want you 
to lick my pussy."

She could have stopped right there. I would have done it for nothing. 
Her trimmed black bush looked so inviting between those luscious thighs, 
that I was ready to dive in before she opened her mouth, but she 
continued, "If you do a good job of licking my pussy, Jimmy, I'll suck 
your cock! Will you do that for me, Jimmy? Will you lick my pussy 'til I 
cum?"

"Oh, YES Mrs. Jones!" and I made to dive in, but she stopped me.

"Get on the floor, please, Jimmy. Kneel between my legs." She panted, 
"That's good, now lean your head down and put your whole mouth right 
where my finger's pointing.  That's right, now, lick what's under your 
tongue, gently."

When I did, I felt a round little button that quickly slipped away as my 
tongue traveled upward to caress a long, smooth ridge of flesh between 
two softer ridges.  "There baby! That little button, that's my clit, and 
that thing you just licked, that's it's sheath. Concentrate on the clit 
with soft, gentle strokes, but now and then give a good firm lick to 
sheath. Ummmm, like that! Oh, Jimmy, you're a natural!"

Her hips rocked slowly against my face as I concentrated on her body's 
reaction to what I was doing. I soon found a pattern that had her 
grinding forcefully against my face. Her scent was mesmerizing. She had 
apparently just showered, so there was a fresh, sweet scent that hung 
around the edges of the growing musk of her arousal. Her flavor was 
sweet and a little salty, with hints of things I'd never tasted before 
and my head spun as I basked in the depravity of licking her honeypot.

"Oh, baby! You are good! Now, take the middle finger of your right hand, 
and slowly work it inside my pussy, honey. That's right, turn it as you 
go, and keep it wet. Now! Stop.  Turn your palm up, and press your 
finger against the top of my tunnel. Feel that little rough spot? That's 
my G-spot, baby. I want you to stroke just that spot gently as you work 
my clit with your tongue."

I had forgotten my ministrations to her clit while following her 
instructions, and hastily went back to work, trying to keep my finger 
and tongue moving in concert.  Soon, her hips were snapping up and down 
so hard it was impossible to be gentle. In fact it seemed as though she 
was TRYING to slam her clit against my teeth. Acting on a hunch, the 
next time the little bud came near enough, I bit down on it, not too 
hard.  She was unprepared and jerked her hips backward, scraping the 
nubbin of flesh between my teeth.

"Oh you nasty boy! Do that again!" this time she held still long enough 
for me to get a good grip on her clit with my teeth. I took the 
opportunity to slip my ring finger into her alongside the other, 
caressing the designated spot with the pads of both.

Her hips started vibrating back and forth, stretching and relaxing the 
tag of sensitive flesh between my teeth, while she screeched and moaned, 
her whole body convulsing around my fingers. I was alarmed at her 
reaction and lifted my head long enough to ask, "Are you all right, Mrs. 
Jones?"

She slammed my head back down, shouting, "Don't you DARE stop, you 
wonderful, silly boy! I'm fantastic! Keep going!"

I reclaimed my grip on her clit, and since she seemed to be tiring, I 
started shaking my head like a dog playing tug of war, and added a third 
finger to her soaking passage.  Mrs. Jones shrieked like a banshee and 
went totally rigid from the tips of her stilleto heels to the top of her 
head, which was drawn back by her spasming neck muscles.  Her internal 
muscles clamped down on my fingers so hard I thought they had broken, 
then she went totally limp, feebly pushing at my head to get it away 
from her over-sensitive clit.

I rocked back on my heels, gently removed my fingers from her pussy, to 
her accompanying shuddder and moan, and sat back on my chair, hoping I 
hadn't injured her.

"Where did you learn to do that, boy?" she stared at me as though seeing 
me for the first time.

"I-I don't know, Mrs. Jones!" I stuttered "I just tried to do what made 
you feel good.  After a while it seemed like your body was telling me 
what it wanted, and I couldn't disappoint you! Did I do wrong!?"

She smiled dreamily, "No, Jimmy, you did exactly right! More than right! 
In fact, you did so well, that I'm going to give you a special treat.  I 
promised that I'd suck your dick if you made me cum, and I'll do that, 
but afterward, how would you like to fuck me? Would you like that, Jimmy?"

I couldn't believe my luck! "You mean it, Mrs. Jones?!"

Her frown burst my bubble in a hurry, and she said sadly, "Don't you 
believe me, Jimmy?  If you're going to be 'mowing my lawn' on Fridays, 
you're going to have to learn to trust me. If I tell you I'm going to do 
something, Jimmy, I'm going to do it, and it disappoints me when someone 
questions that."

"Oh, no, um I, mean yes, uh I mean..." I stammered in consternation, 
"it's just, um that I couldn't believe, uh, my, uh, you know, that, um, 
a, uh, beautiful woman, like, uh, you, would, uhm, you know, um, uh, 
want to, like, you know, uh do, uh - THAT, uh with, uh, me!"

She smiled again and the sun came out from behind the clouds. "Well, 
Jimmy, in the future, I would appreciate it if you would remember that I 
don't make promises I don't mean to keep. I will let you fuck me, but 
then I need you to do something more for me.  I want you, after you have 
fucked me, to let me fuck you. Will you do that for me, Jimmy?"

I had no idea how she was going to fuck me, but I didn't care, the 
vision of my adolescent loins plunging my rampant cock into that hot, 
sweet, tunnel clouded my thinking, and I automatically replied, "Yes, 
Mrs. Jones!"

She smiled and stood, in all her naked glory, her breasts sitting high 
and proud, without support, still wearing those improbably high heels 
that did such wonderful things for the shape of her calf muscles. 
Taking my hand, she led me up the stairs and into the strangest room I 
had ever seen.  There were various bed- and bench-like pieces of 
furniture, several cabinets around the wall, and some fixtures and 
furniture whose uses my inexperienced mind couldn't fathom.  Now, I know 
that some of you are looking around the picture I'm painting for you, 
seeking the restraints - the ropes, chains, shackles, and cuffs that 
normally occupy such rooms, but you won't find them here, nor any whips, 
straps, or canes. That was not Mrs. Jones' style - she didn't need them.

Leading me to a strange looking chair, she gently pushed me into it, and 
when I sat - or, rather, reclined - in its concave interior, she pulled 
off my shorts and briefs, leaving my dripping shaft to slap against my 
lower belly.

"Oooooh, nice dick, Jimmy!" she cooed.  I'm bigger than anyone else in 
my gym class, and they tease me about it, but I can tell they're just 
jealous, so I don't say anything.

Mrs. Jones then raised each of my legs in turn and settled them, knees 
bent, into grooves in the chair 'arms' that seemed made for the purpose.

She knelt on the padded floor between my legs and reached for a small 
jar tucked away in a convenient recess near the base of the chair. 
Smiling, she scooped some of the clear, sweet smelling goop out of the 
jar with the middle finger of one hand.

"This will make you feel really good while I'm blowing you, Jimmy."

Then, to my consternation, she took that long, perfectly manicured 
finger, covered in slimy goo, and stuck it right up my cringing butt, 
all the way to her palm in one long plunge!

Noting my discomfort, Mrs. Jones said, "You'll get used to it, Jimmy, 
then it will feel really good! Relax for me, ok, Jimmy?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones." I grunted, trying to do as she asked, when her finger 
found a place inside my ass, that when she pressed against it, turned my 
steel-hard dick into tungsten carbide!

She smiled at my reaction, "That's better now, isn't it, Jimmy?"

I nodded distractedly, "Yes, Mrs. Jones."

Mrs. Jones leaned over, and parting those evil ruby lips, extended her 
pointed pink tongue. With practiced nonchalance, she ran that warm, wet 
organ up my scrotum and shaft, lingering for a moment at the edge of my 
glans and vibrating just the tip back and forth as the stripe of saliva 
she left behind cooled.

"This," she wiggled the impaling finger inside me, "is where I'm going 
to fuck you after you've fucked me. You'll like that, won't you baby?"

I was not at all sure I would, but I was NOT going to disappoint Mrs. 
Jones, so I replied, "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

"I know you will, baby, but first, I want you to enjoy - this!" With 
that she took the head of my cock between her scarlet lips and slowly, 
excruciatingly slowly, she nibbled, licked, bobbed, and sucked her way 
all the way to the bottom of my rigid shaft, embedding the purple 
mushroom of my head deep in her throat.

I almost came right there, but with her unoccupied hand, she pinched off 
the base of my shaft, raised her head, and said "Don't cum yet, baby! 
There's lots more for you to experience! Will you hold off for me until 
I tell you to come, Jimmy? Do that for Mrs. Jones, baby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones!" I croaked through my parched throat.

For twenty minutes, she licked, sucked, prodded, poked, bit, and 
tortured my diamond hard spear and now-willing ass. She now had three 
fingers inside me, and I was eager for more.

Finally, she started vigorously shafting me with those long, slender 
fingers and whispered, "Now, baby! Come for Mrs. Jones, now, ok Jimmy?"

"YES, MRS. JONES!" I shouted, as she once again took my abused cock all 
the way into her throat, and started a low moaning sound that vibrated 
the head and shaft of my cock until I saw stars.  I must have jetted 
gallons of cum into her eagerly swallowing mouth as my guts turned 
inside-out through the end of my dick, and my asshole clenched tightly 
around her fingers, doing its damnedest to suck her whole hand in.

Panting, gasping for breath, I shuddered through a series of diminishing 
ejaculations until there just wasn't any more to spill. Mrs. Jones 
slowly removed her mouth from my still-hard shaft, looking me in the eye 
and licking those red, red lips to get every bit of my cum.

"So delicious, baby!" she murmured as she slowy withdrew her fingers 
from my gaping butt. Reaching into another recess, she withdrew a 
conical, flesh colored, plastic device that tapered from its narrow tip 
to a broad bulge before squeezing abruptly in again, just above the 
flat, flared base.

Mrs. Jones coated the device with more of the goop she'd used on her 
fingers, saying, "This will keep you ready for me, and make you feel 
even better while you fuck me! Will you keep this in your ass for me, 
Jimmy?"

I nodded, almost forgetting the formulaic answer, then quickly, before 
the frown could cloud her beautiful face, "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

"I knew I could count on you, Jimmy." she smiled as she inserted the tip 
into my relaxed rectal opening.  I hadn't realized how much wider the 
bulge was than her fingers, and grunted in pain as she forced it through 
my anus to lock into place deep in my spasming ass.

She wiped her hands on a terry towel that hung from the chair, then 
helped me stand, the fullness in my ass causing me to walk pigeon toed 
to a small cot, from the middle of which protuded a pair of stirrups 
like those in the doctor's examining room.

As gracefully as she did everything else, Mrs. Jones sat on the end of 
the cot, then, in a practiced movement, slid backward as she reclined, 
so that her head was near the end of the cot.

"Come and get it, Jimmy!" she purred, as she settled her still shod feet 
into the stirrups beside the table, leaving her glistening wet pussy 
open and available for my fully recuperated cock.

I scrambled onto the pad between her raised feet as quickly as the plug 
in my ass would let me, and, as I made ready to plunge in, I felt her 
soft palms against my chest.

"Go slowly at first, Jimmy, ok? Take your time and savor the feeling of 
our first fuck, will you do that for me, baby?" those violet eyes 
captivated mine, and once again, I was powerless to refuse.

"Yes, Mrs. Jones."

I positioned my turgid member at the entrance to her pussy, which seemed 
to flower open in welcome. As I slowly, ever so slowly, allowed the 
engorged head of my dick to penetrate between the slippery lips I was 
almost overcome with the enormity of the good fortune that allowed me to 
enjoy my first fuck between the sleek thighs of this exquisite, evil being.

By the time my sparse pubic hair mingled with hers, I was a goner. There 
was no where else in the world that I would ever want to be. This was 
where I belonged. I could feel the pulse of her heartbeat against the 
sensitive flesh of my penis, as the velvety walls of her vagina enfolded me.

I was lost in a landscape of wonderful new feelings, my emotions running 
the gamut from heart stopping fear to unimaginable joy, as our sexes 
joined in the most delicious kaleidoscope of ecstatic sensations one 
could possibly experience.  Here I was, thirteen-year-old Jimmy Nash, 
nothing special to anyone but me, having won the ultimate prize for any 
horny teenager! Only the pressure of the plug in my ass kept me from 
believing it was a dream.

I felt Mrs. Jones elegant hands caressing my butt, urging me to go 
faster. How could I refuse?

Gradually, under her gentle guidance, I increased my pace, occasionally 
swiveling my hips from side to side in response to slight pressures from 
her hands. Soon, she had me pistoning in and out at a machine-gun pace, 
and we were both moaning our passion, but through it all, I heard her 
whispered admonition, "Wait for my signal. I'll tell you when to cum! 
Will you do that for me, baby?"

If my mother had called me baby, I would have sulked for days, but from 
this woman, it was the finest of honors. "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

When I thought I could get no faster nor rise any higher, she grabbed 
the base of the plastic plug in my ass, and rotated it in time with my 
thrusts. "Cum now, baby! Mrs. Jones is ready for your cum! Will you give 
it to me, baby?"

"YES, AAARGH, MRS. JONES!" I slammed into her with as much force as my 
thirteen year old body could muster, once, twice, three times - trying 
my best to get as far inside her clinging wetness as I could, before 
blasting load after load deep inside her.

Mrs. Jones, shuddered and moaned and I got warm all over in the midst of 
my climax, as I realized that she too was cumming.

A few minutes later, as we regained our strength, she pushed gently at 
my chest, murmuring, "That was wonderful, Jimmy! Now, there's just one 
more thing we need to do before you go home today."

I extricated myself from her clasping nether lips, and awkwardly 
dismounted the cot, the plug in my butt still causing problems.

Still the picture of grace and beauty, Mrs. Jones slipped off the cot 
and led me to a padded piece of furniture that looked vaguely like 
something I had seen once when I went to church with a Catholic friend. 
  Pushing down on my shoulders, Mrs. Jones had me kneel on the low step, 
then bent me forward over the pad that came to just below my waist.  Her 
soft hands guided my arms to extend along the rests on the other side of 
the waist pad and grip the handles I found there. I felt exposed and 
vulnerable as I knelt there, dick hanging down one side of the waist 
pad, chained nipples hanging over the other, while my hands extended 
above my head, holding on for dear life.

I felt soft, warm breasts flatten against my back, briefly. As she 
leaned over to whisper in my ear.  "This will be a strange new 
experience for you, Jimmy, but you will come to love it, I'm sure. I 
know you won't disappoint me. You've done so well, so far! Promise me 
you'll do your best to enjoy your fucking, Jimmy, ok? It will mean so 
much to me!"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones!" I mumbled through my fear.

I heard noises behind me and turned to look. Mrs. Jones was in the 
process of inserting one end of what looked like an artificial dick with 
two separate shafts, into herself.  She then fastened it in place with 
some kind of harness, leaving the other shaft sticking obscenely out of 
her crotch, for all world like she had just grown a large cock.  I 
started trembling uncontrollably as she smeared some more of the goop on 
her artificial phallus and advanced on my unprotected ass.

When she grasped the base of the plug and pulled it from my butt, I 
began to realize why she had left it in there.  I could only hope it 
would be enough, as she nestled what felt like a bowling ball into the 
pucker of my anus.  "Take a deep, breath, Jimmy, and push out hard, like 
you're going number two. Can you do that for me, baby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones." I did as she asked, and to my amazement, the bulbous 
end of the plastic dick slipped right in, with only a brief flash of pain.

"Keep pushing, Jimmy, there's more to go. Can you push some more for me, 
dear?"

I pushed. "Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

I felt the long, smooth shaft sliding deep inside me. It hit some kind 
of barrier, and I thought that was as far as it would go. No such luck! 
She pushed harder, I pushed harder, and with a rush, the barrier opened, 
allowing the rest of the phallus to slide achingly into my quivering rectum.

I grunted, more from surprise than from pain, though somewhere deep 
inside me, something ached as though I'd been punched. I felt her long 
black hair caressing my shoulders as her breasts once again flattened on 
my back. Those ruby lips grasped my ear lobe, and her impossibly white 
teeth nipped at it, sending shivers up and down my spine.

"I'm all the way inside you now, baby! Thank you for accepting me so 
deep in your butt! You make me SO happy! I'm going to start fucking you 
soon, Jimmy, and I want you to relax and really enjoy it! Will you do 
that for me, baby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones." I croaked, and magically, the ache inside me turned 
to something else, not quite pleasure, but a comfortable, full feeling.

I couldn't believe it, but as she pulled back, I groaned in 
disappointment, feeling empty and abandoned. Then, she pushed back in, 
and I could feel the tip as it passed my inner barrier and rearranged my 
guts, sending bolts of electricity through me. She started pumping me, 
faster and faster, and soon, I was returning her thrusts - humping 
against her as eagerly as she was humping me.

Turning my head to the side, I saw our reflection in a mirror built into 
one wall of the room, my skinny, gangly thirteen year old form with a 
raging hardon dangling from my crotch, while a beautiful, black haired, 
ruby lipped witch obscenely fucked my willing ass.  I was shocked and 
enormously aroused to realize that was me in the mirror, and more 
importantly, that the figure whose tits were mashed against my shoulder 
blades was HER!

Suddenly, she grabbed the chain between my nipples and started yanking 
it, reawakening the pain that had been hibernating as a dull ache, as 
she plunged deep in my bowels and rotated her hips, grinding against my 
ass and causing the tip of the artificial dick to stir my guts. She 
shrieked deafeningly in my ear, "COME FOR ME, BABY! COME FOR MRS. JONES! 
PLEASE COME FOR ME?!"

"YES, MRS.JONES!" I shouted back, rocking my prostate against the 
gyrating shaft of the plastic dick, and exploding geysers of thick white 
cum onto the cushions of the waist pad.

My goddess rested, panting, on my back for several minutes, her 
involuntary shudders, magnified by the shaft in my guts, causing 
sympathetic spasms in my own body.

As if in slow motion, she straightened, and with infinite care, as if 
afraid I would break, she extracted the phallus from my twitching bottom.

"Wait here, baby, and I'll clean you up. Will you do that for me, dear?" 
she asked, softly.

"Yes, Mrs. Jones."

She disappeared through a doorway, and I heard water running.  A few 
minutes later, she returned and my distended ass welcomed the warm, wet 
washcloth she used to wipe the lube from around and partway inside it. 
She turned the cloth several times to clean me thoroughly, and when she 
was satisfied, kissed me on one buttock, saying, "Ok, Jimmy, you can get 
dressed now.  You can remove your chain and hang it on the hook by the 
door on your way out, so it will be ready for you when you come back on 
Friday. You will come back Friday, won't you, baby?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones!"

She smiled and after I threw on my briefs, shorts, and t-shirt, saw me 
to the door, still wearing nothing but her heels.  I carefully hung the 
silver chain on its hook, wondering idly what the other hooks were for.

As I pushed the lawnmower back up the block to my house, reliving every 
wonderful, terrible moment of my visit, I wondered what the hell I had 
gotten myself into, but it never occurred to me not to go back.  Mrs. 
Jones would have been disappointed.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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