Mrs. Taylor's Excellent Adventures Ch. 04

He put the bowl on the night table and fumbled with a condom, trying to unroll it the wrong way. Figuring it out, he turned it around and finished the job. Mrs. Taylor smiled appreciatively at his cock. It was average in every way but she still murmured, "So much bigger than my inattentive husband's...so solid...so masculine...just what a poor girl like me needs...a real man's cock in me..." and she motioned to him to get on the bed. She let her legs part and casually put a finger to her vagina. "Do you think can...get me just a little bit more...ready for you, lover boy? Turn me on like hubby can't...at least...anymore...you can start...let's see...how about here..." gently cupping her breasts.

Greg gave her a frustrated look, then quickly decided better. "The girl I can't turn on isn't breathing," he said in a voice of adolescent bravado. Moving up and putting his mouth to one nipple while a hand went to the other, he started to suck like a starving baby and using way too much pressure, roll the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Mrs. Taylor was no stranger to nipple pain and the sudden mild discomfort was not a problem. "Ohhh...yes!" she hissed as she thought once again that the kid was a moron. He bit down on the one nipple, none too gently and that gave even Mrs. Taylor reason to tense. "What you do to me," she crooned in false pleasure as she thought; 'You make me think you were born in a barn.'

Greg switched his mouth to her other nipple and tickled it with his tongue, before biting down. Then he moved down, stopping at her clitoris. "A little more gently with that, lover boy," she murmured, not wanting to have to separate Greg from his Peters' family jewels for insulting her feminine dignity.

He didn't quite insult it but he paid it only passing attention, clearly wanting to get on with fucking. He was getting up and into missionary position, moving in close, holding his impatient cock and about to push it in to her vagina like he was pushing open a door.

Mrs. Taylor casually rolled onto her side reaching for the bowl. Taking a packet of lubricant, she tore it open, put a generous portion on her finger tips and made a show of slowly, teasingly touching it to her vaginal entrance. Then she spread her labia with her other hand and slowly worked her lubed fingers deep into herself. Looking up at Greg somewhat apologetically, she said, "I don't have any problem getting wet, lover boy. You've done that for me...very...very well...it's just that you young, solid hard bodies...

after one climax...you can go forever...it's awesome...I love it, but...a girl can stay wet for only...so long by herself...and I wouldn't want to have to stop in half an hour and...you know...do this...it might break your concentration or something..."

Giving him her best "fuck me till I'm passed out" eyes closed, slow body wriggle, she laid back, smiled up at Greg, put a pillow under her butt and settled into a comfortable, relaxed position, her legs spread and her knees bent. "You know what to do, lover boy," she murmured and softly closed her eyes. 'Hope that doesn't give you performance anxiety,' she thought with a non-expressed evil grin.

Any newly hatched self-doubts Greg may have been experiencing were soon in evidence. He was all control now, slowly entering Mrs. Taylor's vagina and moving in and out like it was causing him pain. She let him do that for a minute, all the while murmuring her approval of a penis being in her, if not the display of manliness.

"God I love it when guys like you start slow..." she oozed, eyes still closed, leaving no doubts as to her future expectations. "It gets me so turned on...being teased like this...knowing what you can really do...but not yet, lover boy...my rock solid lover boy...play with me, tease me with your hard, thick...woman maker...make a real woman out of me...make me come until I can't take it any more..."

With that she slowly arched her back like she was a cat stretching. Then she reversed the tilt and taking her legs in hand, pulled them up high, wide apart and murmured, "The Big O, please...it's been so long...so!... long!...two would be better...yes...two...oh God, I'm going to love this..."

Mrs. Taylor kept her eyes closed, the expression on her face one of impending sexual satiation and her breathing slow and deep. Greg may have heard of a woman's G spot but showed no particular knowledge of its whereabouts. He leaned over her and started moving deeper, his ball sack gently tapping her ass. The head of his penis was pushing into her cervix which Mrs. Taylor was happy to feel. "God, you are...so...deep," she gushed. "I love a real, solid cock that...goes...deep..."

Opening her eyes, she gave Greg a look of intense womanly pleasure, her eyes pleading for more. He was stroking in her faster now and she gave a series of porn star grunts as his cock head thrust into her cervix. Then she put on a clenched teeth grimace of sexual rising passion while arching her head back. Forcefully massaging her breasts, she glared into Greg's eyes, demanding his best efforts to bring her to vaginal orgasm. 'Not like this,' she thought to herself.

"Lean back a bit, lover." Greg looked puzzled.

Mrs. Taylor let go of her legs and partially sat up. Putting a hand on his chest, she gently pushed until he did what he was told, but the puzzled look remained. "Stop a minute, lover," and he did, still puzzled.

She took his cock by the base and gently eased it out, then took her hand away. "See the direction it's pointing?" she asked. Greg looked at his achingly erect penis, pointing almost straight up.

"There's a reason for that, lover boy...when a woman wants a Big O, an earth moving, brain melting...vaginal...orgasm...she wants this," touching the tip of his penis, "moving against...stroking into, again and again...the top of her va-ja-ja...not the back...the top...that's why this..." again touching his tip, "is pointing...up!"

Giving Greg an eye brow raised smile like she was letting him in on the world's best kept secret, she settled back, adjusted the pillow and said, "Now you know what a woman wants...when she does...this..."again taking her legs up high and widely spread.

Looking very uncertain of himself, Greg said, "Okay, lady...if you say so..." and moved in closer to try and take his fucking up a notch.

"Call me Sugarplum, lover boy...and I do say so...give me what I want and...maybe later I'll let you call me...Sugarbum...if you know what I mean...think you're man enough...to get your reward, lover boy...?"

'This is going well,' thought Mrs Taylor as Greg was doing his best to move against her G spot, even if he was clueless as to what he was doing or why. However, the sight of Mrs. Taylor, clad only in black silk stockings, a garter belt and high heels, her legs up and spread, was giving Greg a new sense of urgency. Mrs. Taylor could see his face getting flushed and beads of sweat starting to appear on his forehead and chest.

From the expression on his face, she thought he was torn between his desire to work on giving her what she wanted, and his desire to just go caveman on her and fuck like a sailor on shore leave after six months at sea. Surprisingly, Mrs. Taylor was getting a decent reaction from his newly learned part of the art of fucking. "Are you sure you didn't know about this little...advanced technique?" she murmured and threw in a few moans of sexual joy.

Greg just gave a few vigorous thrusts and Mrs. Taylor gasped, inhaled deeply and called out, "Yes!...Yes!...Oh my God...Yes!" Nowhere near a big one, she pretended she was, knowing that her performance would have Greg climbing himself, well before his suggested half hour time. "That's it!...just like that!...Oh God...don't stop...please don't stop..."

'Well, Greg, let's see just how good you are,' she thought, not expecting any surprises. Going into her porn star in heat routine, Mrs. Taylor threw out all the stops, gyrating her pelvis, massaging her clit, pushing up her breasts like she was offering them to the gods and giving Greg a moaning, groaning display of "woman about to come big time". "Oh lover, oh lover...so close...so close...fuck me...fuck me harder...harder...don't stop...please don't stop...God! I want to come! Please, lover boy...make me come..."

As much as Mrs. Taylor thought that a decent vaginal orgasm was always a thing to be desired, her intentions were to have Greg come first and leave her...disappointed. Not too disappointed, but disappointed enough to make him want to prove himself the next time and Mrs. Taylor was going to give him a next time. Greg was shaking his head, mumbling to himself and generally trying to forget where he was and what he was doing.

'Reciting the alphabet backwards...naming every student in his grade seven class...anything to keep from coming before I do,' Mrs. Taylor imagined. 'Not a chance,' she thought and giving Greg a few more impassioned entreaties to finish her off, she contracted her thoroughly trained pelvic muscles, wrapping her vagina tightly around his rapidly thrusting cock and waited...for only a few seconds before he was tensing like a weightlifter before an Olympian effort, his achingly close cock going like a jackhammer and then he was coming. With a last cry of, "Please don't stop," Mrs. Taylor added to his new found sexual anxieties.

Greg was sucking in air, his chest heaving as he gave a last few jerks, his orgasm finished. He looked down at Mrs. Taylor expectantly, then managed to gasp, "Did you...did I..."

She gave him a look of tortured frustration and said, "I was...so...close...baby, baby...I ha..." not finishing the 'I hate it when that happens.'

Greg collapsed on the bed beside her and was silent except for his heavy breathing. 'Live with it , kid,' she thought, 'not all men are anything like they think they are...especially you.'

Mrs. Taylor turned to him, her face a portrait of understanding. "It's okay, baby...lover boy...you were awesome...my husband hasn't fucked me like that in ages. You'll do better next time...you just relax and...get your strength back...I'll go and get us each another drink."

She gave him a quick kiss and a smile, got off the bed and went out of the room. She poured him a large one and herself a smaller one, adding water. 'In the dim light, he'll never notice,' she thought, and went back to Greg. Handing him the straight liquor she touched his glass to hers and said, "This'll put the lead back in your pencil," and took a sip.

Then she went to the closet and put on the white dressing gown, covering her almost naked body, wrapping and tying the sash. Then she arranged two pillows as a backrest and sat on the bed with her legs out and crossed. Greg sat up, still holding his drink and sat cross legged, facing her.

"Ahh, lover boy...I want to see you...not that," she murmured pointing to the used condom, still on his softened penis.

"Yeah," he mumbled and was up to the bathroom. Mrs. Taylor heard water running and figured that he was washing his cum coated penis. A few moments later she heard him peeing. Finally she heard the water again. 'At least he washes his hands,' she thought.

Greg came back looking more relaxed and got back on the bed, resuming his cross legged position. "You know," he started, "that usually doesn't happen. I mean...you not..."

Mrs. Taylor remained silent, forcing him to continue in his lie. "Not...having a...climax, I mean. Can't remember the last time this happened...maybe it's because...well...you're just so...god damned sexy...I mean...Jeez you look so good...and the way I had you turned on...I just couldn't help it...coming like that, I mean...before you...you know..."

'Keep going kid, have some more rope. Set yourself up for another big failure,' Mrs. Taylor thought as she listened to his line. She gave him a sly smile and said, "It's okay, lover boy. I understand. You just relax and we'll talk a while. When you're ready to do it again, let me know...as if I won't be able to see for myself..." gazing at his flaccid penis.

"Yeah, Sugarplum," and he gave a slight laugh, "you'll see for your self."

Mrs. Taylor made a show of looking him over, pretending to admire his body. "You are such a...hunk my lover boy...a living, breathing sex machine. The girls in this town must be lining up...and I don't blame them one bit." She ran a high heeled foot over his thigh and gave him another sly smile. "So, how many of your regulars am I disappointing tonight?"

"A few," he answered, looking like they bored him. "But it'll do them good. Make them appreciate what they've got."

"Oh, lover boy...do I ever appreciate what they've got. In fact...I'm jealous. Oh...to be young again." She gave a languid stretch. "Of course, when I was a girl...I didn't have a guy like you around...pity...what I could have felt...experienced...taken places I didn't know existed..."

Greg gave her a sad smile and said, "Well, so many girls...so little time..."

Mrs. Taylor nodded knowingly and crooned, "But I've got you tonight..." while thinking, 'What a fucking jerk...a total loser.'

"So tell me," Mrs. Taylor said, "with all those girls to choose from...what do you look for? What turns you on?"

Greg gave another chuckle and said, "Well, for starters...they have to understand...if they want to be with me...I don't take no for an answer...if you get my drift. I mean, life is too short to put up with...girls who want to be...friends..."

He said the word "friends" like it was an idea to be spat upon. Mrs. Taylor made an unbelieving face and said, "You mean, there are girls who won't...bend over and drop the old...last line of resistance?"

"Tell me about it," Greg smirked. "I mean, who do they think they are...the last pussy on earth? Now you...I like you...none of this "will you still respect me" crap. I want to fuck 'em...not marry 'em...and you...you got your priorities straight...if the husband won't fuck you like a real man, find someone who will...I like that in a girl...a woman...you know what you want...and I'm here to give it to you..."

With that, he drained his glass in a show of masculine control. Giving his neck and shoulders a good limbering, he said, "Got any more of this stuff? It's going down pretty good. And have another yourself. You're gonna need it."

Mrs. Taylor fought the urge to burst out laughing. Getting up, she murmured, "Coming right up, lover boy...coming right up."

She took his empty glass, her own and went out of the bedroom. Repeating her deception, she returned and held out Greg's glass. He took it and swallowed half in one go. Mrs. Taylor slowly undid the sash of her evening gown, took a slow sexually charged swallow of her diluted scotch and let the gown fall to the floor. Once again she cat strutted over to the bed, leaned over with legs straight and put her glass on the night table. "This time baby, don't stop...even if I'm begging for mercy."

Then she lay down on the bed, one leg straight out and the other bent and splayed. "Get me ready for you, big boy," she oozed, patting her vulva. "Get me ready to be fucked like there's no tomorrow. The more I beg for mercy...don't give me any. The more I beg you to stop...the more I want you to fuck me silly. No matter what...fuck me like you own me...if I pass out...just keep going..." 'There, you little prick,' she thought, 'you have your marching orders.'

Greg tried. He really did. He started by giving Mrs. Taylor his amateur version of oral. She moaned, groaned and generally made him think he was getting somewhere. "Oh, lover boy...fuck you're good..."

Then she murmured, "Wrap it up, big boy...and cover it with oh, so luscious lube and...have your way with me...I'm yours, big guy, anything your precious little heart desires...don't ask...just do it...fuck my pussy, fuck my ass...just fuck me like I know you can..."

And with that, Mrs. Taylor waited for Greg to get a condom on, fumble with a packet of lube and give her a lecherous grin. Then she turned around, put her breasts to the bed and on her knees, arched her back putting her ass in the air. "Anywhere you want to start , lover...anywhere you want..."

Mrs. Taylor wasn't surprised to feel his cock poised at her vaginal entrance. 'Probably hasn't ass fucked in his life,' she thought. 'Well, that will change,' and she settled in for his vaginal opening act.

Mrs. Taylor felt her prey's penis ease in. It went deeper and she felt him rubbing his hips up and down her butt. She pushed back into him, gushing, "My god, you're so deep...so thick...I love a good cock...especially one that's fucking me...fuck me, lover boy...make this unhappy wife happy...do what my husband can't..."

With that she arched her back a la porn star and gave Greg's penis a few pelvic squeezes. "Ouuu...what you do to me..." she oozed as she reached a hand between her legs and rubbed her clitoris. "You don't mind, do you, lover boy?"

Greg was quick to stutter, "No...that's okay...I don't mind...if you..."

"Just warming myself up, lover boy," as she gave a few moans in synch with her hands. "You know how to make that...unnecessary..." Mrs. Taylor bit her lip to keep from laughing as Greg picked up his fucking.

'Make the poor boy think he's doing great,' she thought and took her hand from herself. "Oh fuck, yeah," she said with sexual insincerity. "I just love you young guys with your...endless...energy..."

Keeping up a steady stream of sexual entreaties, Mrs. Taylor went through a good part of her repertoire. Having watched numerous women being fucked doggy style, by her husband and others, she knew what to show Greg in the way of "woman having her pussy pounded" antics. She turned her head to look at him, her face a study in feminine lust and sexual ecstasy.

With her teeth clenched, she hissed, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," then gasped out a grunt of the woman being vaginally impaled. Taking a deep breath she held it, then moaned it all out, thinking, 'Surely he can't be falling for this. Yes he is...' as Greg gave her a particularly hard series of deep thrusts, his hips slapping against her cheeks.

"Oh yeah!" he called out in a voice of power. "Fucking you now, baby...fucking you now...like this, Sugarplum? Like my big cock fucking your cunt?...like your cunt being fucked by a real man?""

Mrs. Taylor gave Greg a few hard gasps for air, grimaced and hissed," Oh fuck...oh fuck...not so hard...you're killing me..." as she was thinking, 'For the word "cunt", you'll pay...shit for brains.'

Greg was enjoying his ride. He slapped the cheeks in front of him, saying, "I own you...Sugarbitch!...and I'm gonna fuck you 'til you're insane...your ass is mine, bitch!...ain't no one gonna save you now..."

Mrs. Taylor gave him what he wanted. "Greg...please...slow down...not so hard...you're too big...please..."

As she expected, Greg just held her by her hips and slowed down his rhythm, adding as much thrust as he could. Mrs. Taylor was being pulled backwards as his penis slammed into her very tolerant vagina, his hips then driving her forward. Again and again he did his best to make her scream and when she thought it appropriate, Mrs. Taylor gave him one, then another, followed by a third.

"Just remember, you cheating bitch...you asked for it," he hissed, "but you asked...the wrong...guy..." each grunt accompanied by a particularly vicious thrust. 'Moron,' was all Mrs. Taylor could think of to describe him.

'Showtime,' she thought. 'Time to make him deliriously strong. All the better to make him weak.'

"Stop...stop...for the love of god...stop!" she gasped. "I can't take any more! I'm sorry...sorry I said what I said...please, please...stop!"

'Fucking, fucking moron,' she thought as Greg just roughly pushed her down flat to the bed. She moved to close her legs and as if she had pushed a button, Greg bellowed, "Spread!" She did and he followed with, "Ass in the air, bitch! Now!!"