Mature Mrs. Hallam's Photos

#

It was torture that night. I kept thinking about Mrs Hallam and her cock-sucker photos. I couldn't get her out of my mind. Distracted, I sleep-walked my way through the evening meal at home. I tried to distract myself with television and books. I went out to the pub but couldn't focus on conversation of banter with the lads. I thought about sharing the adventure with my best friend Baz but thought better of it. It wasn't like me to keep it a secret. I was a blabbermouth, always boasting and showing off. But there was something about the thing with Mrs Hallam that made me keep it to myself.

It turned out to be a prescient moment, a decision which I would come to be grateful I'd made.

Anyway, I knew Baz would only pester me for details. He'd want me to steal a few photos and would also spread it around. He was even capable of turning up at her house and causing no end of strife. I could get into trouble with Mrs Hallam and her husband. They might tell Bernie to sack me...

No, it was best all round if nobody knew except for the parties concerned.

It was a fitful, restless night. I didn't sleep much. I dozed but kept stirring because I was excited to see Mrs Hallam again. I didn't hold out much hope for more of the same, but there was a glimmer of hope which kept me awake.

I masturbated. Twice. I relived the moments where Mrs Hallam revealed her breasts. I tugged myself and pictured the way her boobs jiggled as I'd fucked into her fantastic pussy. I thought about her flaps and the oversized clit and the way she'd gasped and grunted when I'd flicked the bean with my tongue. I came while picturing her face and the way she'd slipped her finger through her labia, her expression a teeth-clenched snarl of desire, eyes flashing with lust when she'd told me to fuck her.

I wanked and came and then did it again just before the alarm went off. I washed all the vital areas before I went down to breakfast. I managed to keep up my end of the morning chatter as my mother bustled around. It was a normal Friday morning. Terry Wogan on BBC Radio 2, my pack-up ready on the kitchen counter next to the flask of tea I never drank. I met Bernie on the corner near Connie's sweet shop.

He came in to have a word with Mrs Hallam about the conversion.

She ignored me apart from a polite greeting.

I grabbed my canvas satchel and took a few vital tools from the back of the van.

Disappointment sank into the pit of my stomach when I noticed the shoebox had gone.

I sighed, looked around at the jobs I'd neglected the previous afternoon, told myself to just get on with it, and started to work.

There was a rush of excitement when I heard noises like someone coming up the ladder.

They were, but it was Bernie. He told me what he expected and inspected what I'd done so far. Then he left after issuing advice and instructions.

She left me to suffer until 10 a.m.

"Is it your break time?" Mrs Hallam called from the foot of the ladder.

Everything lurched inside me at the sound of her voice. I'd made a couple of expeditionary visits to the toilet in the hope I'd see her, but there'd been no sign of her upstairs and I wasn't brave enough to go down to the ground floor. Surprise and delight flashed through me when I heard her call.

I went to the hatch and looked down.

She was wearing another summer dress. This time in canary yellow. The colour suited her light golden tan. I thought she looked pretty, and possibly nervous. Anxiety squeezed my guts when I saw her expression, and my immediate thoughts, beyond admiring Mrs Hallam's figure, were that I was somehow in bother.

"Would you come down," Mrs Hallam said.

Her tone reinforced the impression I'd done something wrong.

"Uh, there's a lot to do today," I said. "Bernie told me-"

She cut me off as the excuse came burbling out. "Jason, just come down. I want to talk to you."

Without waiting to see if I was on my way, Mrs Hallam turned and walked away. I sighed and then gulped as mixed emotions and sensation tumbled and swirled.

"In here," she said as I went past her bedroom door.

The schoolmarm looked at me.

"What we did, Jason," she said. "How do you feel about it today?"

"I ... I can't stop thinking about it, Mrs Hallam," I said.

She looked gorgeous standing there with her eyes fixed to my face. I wanted to go over and kiss her.

"Are you sorry about it? Do you regret it at all?"

That surprised me. I hadn't expected her to talk about regret on my part. Why would I be sorry? What was there for me to regret? I'd experienced the single most exciting sexual adventure of my life. She wasn't a girl with the same limited experience as me. Mrs Hallam was everything a randy young bloke could dream of.

"I just wondered," Mrs Hallam said after I shook my head. She shrugged and smiled like she was halfway embarrassed. "It got a bit ... heated," she added. "I said a lot of things. I hope I didn't scare you, Jason."

Desire simmered and my cock got stiff. "You didn't scare me," I said with a murmur. "I think you're lovely."

I was shy when I said it, catching some of the tension from her.

Her smile brightened. "You do? I mean do you really, Jason?"

I nodded, eager to please. "Yeah. Of course."

"Am I not too ... old?"

I gulped down on the astonishment. What the hell was she talking about?

I shook my head.

"My body..." she said.

I looked at her, puzzled. "What?"

"My ... My vulva ... You know, my labia, Jason."

An image flashed across my mind's-eye: she was on the bed, the big, loose folds pinned back with the tips of her fingers, cunt glistening and pink...

I closed my eyes and sucked air in through my nose. Then I let out a moan.

"It doesn't put you off, Jason?" she asked.

"Put me off? You're joking," I said. I was getting bold with the aching need yawning in the pit of my stomach. My cock was stiff and I wanted to haul it out and wank it in front of her.

I'd show her how her body affected me...

"I just wondered if it wasn't a little intimidating?"

"It's lovely," I said. "You're lovely," I added.

Fear and a little guilt squeezed me when she said, "I was going to tell my husband all about it...

"...but I didn't," she added after a pause.

I didn't have a reply, so I just shrugged and nodded.

"I'm naked under this dress," Mrs Hallam said on a whisper. She reached down to the skirt and lifted the hem to mid-thigh. Then she looked at me as her smirk started to form. "I could take it off if you like."

My throat worked and I forgot to breathe for a couple of seconds.

"We could have a quick little fuck...?"

Everything surged. Lust boiled.

I nodded.

"Oh, goody," she said.

#

There was no tenderness in it. It wasn't love and affection. The second time we did it, I fucked her with confidence and vigour. I was mad for her body, wild with lust as I held her hips and worked my size into her cunt. Braced against the wall as she gasped and squealed, our difference in height forced up onto her toes despite the high shoes. I was taller than her, which meant she had to work to get her pelvis angled to where she could take my length into her body.

Mrs Hallam was just as keen and enthusiastic as me. She thrust back to meet me on the inward stroke, gasping as out bodies collided. The little spare flesh she carried on her hips and bottom rippled as I went at her.

"God, yes, just fuck me like that," Mrs Hallam gasped.

Creased at the waist, tits swaying, she reached back with one arm, craning around to hook the nape of my neck with her fingers.

Mrs Hallam grinned at me, absolute joy in her face as she said, "Teenage cock ... Lovely young lad ... Use my cunt ... God, Jason, keep fucking..."

It was awkward, but I leaned in to slobber a kiss against her mouth. She returned the kiss, gasping into my open mouth while I mauled her breasts, the texture causing the first tickle of a violent, spurting climax down in my shaft.

Mrs Hallam must have felt something because he pulled away from the kiss to brace herself with both forearms against the bedroom wall. She shoved back at me, head lolling loose, ash-blonde bob swinging. She gasped, "Not inside me this morning, Jason. Don't come inside me."

I held her hips and kept on smashing her cunt. The rush was imminent and I wasn't listening to what she was saying.

It was what she moaned out next which made me pull out and jerk the fountain of spunk over her buttocks and back.

"I want to do it again later," Mrs Hallam moaned. "Don't do it inside me."

Hearing say that brought on the rush. It was close, and I almost gave in to the sweet lure of emptying myself into her pussy as her insides squeezed my girth. I felt her skin, smooth and velvety under my fingers.

"Ah, fuck," I grunted.

"God, baby," Mrs Hallam moaned.

"You're lovely," I muttered.

And then, as the outrush began, I pulled myself clear and wanked it over her bottom. I sobbed in joy as I pumped my dick, my eyes catching the quick pink flash as her cunt gaped and her folds shivered.

After that it became a blur of delight while the hot stuff spattered onto her skin.

When it was over, Mrs Hallam wiped at the muck with one hand, licking cum off her fingers as she teased me with her eyes.

"Before the job's finished," Mrs Hallam said, "I think you should let me suck your cock. I do love to see a man come."

She said it and then danced over to the bed where, mindless to the spunk on her backside and her back, lay on the cover where she could spread her thighs and get to work on her greedy cunt. I watched, only partway deflated as Mrs Hallam took a couple of minutes to get herself to her peak. She put on a bit of a show while she rubbed at herself, fucking two and three stiff fingers into her opening while also describing her thoughts and impressions in the crudest of terms.

When she finished, I was ready again. I stood near the bed, hard-on in one hand.

"Mm, look at that," Mrs Hallam said through her smile. Then she leaned over the bed and sucked at the dome before she let it fall free. "Later. Not now. Get some work done, you dirty, lovely boy. I'll call you when it's time for a break."

Which is how it went on for the rest of that job.

It was work a little and then fuck Mrs Hallam. Most days I fucked her three times, sometimes only two. We had a couple of interruptions and one very close call. One memorable time, Mrs Hallam sucked me from start to finish. It didn't take long, but I left her with thick ropes of cum in her hair, spunk over her face, and huge, beaming smile. It amazed me she could get enjoyment from having my goo all over her face, but she said it got her all hot and bothered to see my excitement.

"It'll wash off," she said as she scooped ejaculate from her chin. "I'd be less pleased if we were somewhere public," Mrs Hallam added. "But here...?" She shrugged and blurted a laugh as she then did her trick of sucking jizz from her fingers.

The filthy bitch kissed me after that, but I didn't care, I was already feeling the need to fuck her again.

Then the job finished, the attic complete. It had taken Bernie's expertise to finish it off, which made me petulant and pouty because his presence meant I couldn't get at Mrs Hallam.

It was an emotional time for me. I was halfway in love with Mrs Hallam by then. I told her and we had a deep and meaningful in her bed. It was the last time I'd see Mrs Hallam's glorious body naked again. It was over, but she sent me away after gently explaining how it could only have been what it was. I was young, she was too old. She was married and had no intention or even an inkling to leave her husband.

"I'm not going to betray him again," Mrs Hallam said through a sigh. "This past week or so has been wonderful, Jason. You're a gorgeous, sweet, beautiful man." She smirked and nudged me and took the potential for my emotional response away by adding, "And you come like a firehose, darling. And I hope you've learned something about how to treat a lady."

She kissed me and rolled away. I smacked her bottom to make it jiggle. She yelped and laughed.

Then she left me in her bed with my thoughts.

#

A couple of months later I was in the Green Man pub. It was Friday night. I was with Baz. It was payday and I was flush with cash like every Friday night. The pub was busy, as it always was on Friday. It was around 9 p.m. when I saw her standing near the bar. I liked her shape from the rear and wondered if she looked as good from the front. I'd had three pints of Tetley's and was brave enough on it to make an approach.

The view from the front was a surprise. Not that she wasn't pretty, because she was. In fact, I thought she was beautiful, it was just that her looks had a profound effect on me. I was smitten from the moment she turned around and smiled. I saw something in her face, maybe the grin, which told me she was a dirty girl with a penchant for dirty talk.

She was happy enough to let me buy her a drink. So I did. We talked. We clicked. She told me her name was Sarah. She was a year older than me and was home from university for a few weeks. I told her I liked her. She smiled and told me she thought I was nice. My insides flipped when I saw her smirk. We kissed.

Sex was an adventure. Sarah was wild and, after a couple of goes, proved she was open to just about anything to do with fucking.

She was the one who instigated the anal.

It was incredible sex.

But the sex wasn't the only thing which drew me to Sarah. It was also her looks and her body. I adored her big, heavy and rounded tits; plus, she had piss flaps like elephant's ears and an oversized bean about the size of the top joint of my pinkie finger.

I was nervous in the extreme when I first met her parents. Well, to be exact, I'd never seen her father before.

But I did know her mother...