North Shore Ass Whore

Another rope of sperm surged from the winking cock-hole, reaching to her chin but largely collecting between her wobbly tits. As a fourth stream spilled from Dan's balls, Mrs. Morgan still jerking roughly at the base of his cock, the cum that collected between her tits slid down to her neck and collarbone before dripping from her tanned shoulders and puddling on the green felt of the pool table.

Above her, Dan panted, sweat dripping from his nose and chiseled chest, as he caught his breath. His thick cock started to go limp in her stroking fist, and Mrs. Morgan released him, using her clean hand to wipe the cum from her face.

His breath returning to normal, his heart rate decreasing, Dan leaned forward, dragging the tip of his cock along her substantial cleavage. Her wet lips parted and took his soft shaft between her equally soft lips, sucking and nursing on it, savoring the taste of the remnants of cum that dripped from his hole.

Before he was hard again, her leaned back, again resting his ass on Mrs. Morgan's muscular stomach. He held up his hand for her to see: the Number 1 Yellow ball.

Without waiting for her to respond, Dan stretched an arm behind him and found her spread thighs. He rolled the ball up the inside of her left thigh, slowly and firmly, until it reached her splayed cunt lips, and from there he rolled it up the slick channel formed by her flowered lips to her inflamed clit.

Mrs. Morgan gasped at the coolness and hardness of the object, her eyes going wide not in fear but anticipation. "Nasty boy," she grinned.

"Nasty wife," Dan responded as the ivory orb, slick with her fluids, slipped from his hand and clattered to the felt-covered slate. He reached further behind him to find it and placed it between her flowered cunt lips and pushed. Beneath him, the slutty wife and his best friend's mother squirmed with some discomfort as the two-and-a-quarter inch sphere parted her lips and began to stretch her cunt lips wider than Dan ever could.

"Want me to stop?" Dan teased her, ceasing his efforts to push the ball into her sopping cunt.

"No." Her voice was hoarse.

He pushed the ball in a little further, though it was difficult. "You sure?"

Mrs. Morgan merely nodded her head, unable to speak.

He pushed the Number 1 ball harder and its apex slipped past her cuntal opening. She writhed beneath him, her massive tits wobbling on her chest, her thickened nipples bright red. "Uuuggghhh," she grunted. "Soooo . . . fucking . . . biiiiig. . . . Stretching . . . meeeee."

Dan's fingers slipped from the slick sphere up to her burning clit, all the more exposed as Mrs. Morgan's cunt lips were stretched taut. Trapping the engorged bud between two fingers, he began a slow circular motion as the mother of his childhood friend squirmed beneath his ministrations. As his fiddling increased in speed, so too did the pressure that his fingers exerted on her clit. "Oh my god," she moaned, her eyes screwed shut tightly. "Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmi."

Mrs. Morgan's hips took on a life of their own, bucking up against Dan's two-hundred pounds planted firmly on her stomach. She twisted her pelvic bone, trying to increase the intensity of the pressure on her burning clit.

"Oh fuck! O fuck! Ofuck! Ofck!" she groaned from deep in her throat, twisting her torso this way and that, her head thrown back. Her lithe body went rigid for a moment, before relaxing again in a frenzy of jerks and quakes and trembles.

The Number 1 Yellow ball slipped from her sopping hole as her cunt muscles relaxed and convulsed, relaxed and convulsed, alternately gripping the ball and trying to eject it from her abused cunt. It landed on the felt-covered slate with a thud before rolling a few inches away, leaving a trail of her feminine fluids behind it.

Dan remained atop Mrs. Morgan as she rode through her orgasm, his assaulting fingers keeping a steady beat across the tender flesh of her clit. When her body finally settled, porn-star tits still quivering atop her tiny torso, sweat streamed from her pores, leaving her naked body glistening from the light rack that hung above the pool table.

"You are one nasty young man, Dan," she breathed, her eyes still hooded in post-orgasmic bliss.

"You're pretty depraved yourself," he responded with a smile, climbing off the prone woman and from the pool table. He lent her a hand as she scooted her sweat- and fluid-soaked body to the edge of the pool table. On her feet, she bent to retrieve the Prada heel that had been kicked off earlier.

As she kicked the other one off and threw them both on the couch, Dan led Mrs. Morgan by the hand, her ostentatious diamond rings pressing into his palm, from the library and back down the hallway toward the television room. They padded quietly across the hardwood floors behind the couch upon which Mr. Morgan had passed out. When they entered the kitchen, Dan whispered to her, "Where's the olive oil?"

Mrs. Morgan pulled her hand from Dan's and entered a pantry off the kitchen, reappearing with a glass bottle bearing a Bertolli label. "Come on," she whispered, reaching for his hand to lead him back to the library.

But Dan avoided her grasp, instead taking the bottle from her. "No. Right here," he whispered back, unscrewing the cap.

"No, Dan. Not here." Her voice was barely audible as he poured a little of the oil into his hand, reaching behind her and spreading the slippery fluid across her tight ass cheeks. "I said no. Let's go." His fingers wormed their way between her tightly clenched cheeks, and the tip of an oily finger penetrated her puckered hole. "Please," she begged weakly. "Somewhere else. Just not right here."

Dan didn't respond to her. He merely turned her around and pushed her against the kitchen island. She braced herself, arms stretched before her, French manicured nails standing out against the dark granite countertop.

Dan stepped up behind his best friend's mom, tipping the bottle of olive oil over his cock, liberally coating the length of his shaft before dripping some over her upturned ass. With his free hand, he smoothed the oil along his own flesh and spread it toward her tight asshole. Mrs. Morgan groaned at his ministrations, her eyes fluttering; when they were open, she could look into the television room and see the top of her husband's head over the back of the couch.

When Dan slipped first one and then a second finger into her lubricated asshole, she let a groan escape her slender throat. "Oh, shit," she muttered. "Please, no." But her protestations were feigned. She reveled in this. Fidelity was something that Mrs. Morgan had long ago forsaken, but never before had she been bent over like this in her own house with her husband in the next room. Her already damp cunt moistened further at her own debauchery.

Dan remained behind the bent-over housewife, two fingers working oil into her tight asshole, stretching it, making sure that she would be able to accommodate his thick cock. With his free hand, he reached around and roughly massaged a hanging, plastic-filled tit, pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Twisting her nipple counterclockwise, feeling Mrs. Morgan writhe beneath him, Dan placed the shiny head of cock at the entrance to her oil-slicked asshole and slowly pushed against her. She sucked in her breath as his head parted her gripping anal ring. When the thick mushroom head slipped past, hot alcohol-tinged air rushed from between her shiny lips. "Oohh, ffuucckk," she moaned, dropping her torso to the counter, her lean arms sliding out in front of her. Dan released his grip on her inflamed nipple, and her massive tits compressed against the cold granite, pushing her nipples inward.

Gripping her soft hips tightly in his hands, he pulled back just a little before pushing into Mrs. Morgan's asshole again. An inch or two slid in, causing the adulterous woman to groan from her throat. Back out and back in again. He was having trouble sliding the remainder of his cock into her.

He released one of her hips and reached for the bottle, pouring more oil along the length of his shaft when he pulled out again. Replacing it on the counter next to the heaving woman, her cheek pressed against the cold countertop, Dan put both of his hands on her tanned shoulders and pulled her back against him. This time he was rewarded as the remaining length of his cock slid into Mrs. Morgan's puckered anal hole, his pubic hair crushing against her upturned ass cheeks.

Having fully penetrated her, he began slowly slicing his cock in and out of her stretched asshole, holding tightly to her shoulders. In the background, he heard the theme song for Coach. The only other sounds in the kitchen were the respective grunts of the unlikely couple, the squeaking of Mrs. Morgan's massive, store-bought tits as they slid back and forth across the cool granite countertop and, occasionally, the scraping of her long nails or the clanking of her wedding rings against the granite.

Once he developed a rhythm, Mrs. Morgan moved an arm between her legs, her elegant fingers finding her exposed clit, manipulating it against the pads of two fingers. Behind her, Dan maintained a steady pace, burying his cock to the root on each penetration, as her breathing became ragged. Releasing a shoulder with one of his hands, he grabbed at the unfaithful mother's ponytail, pulling her made-up face from the counter and guiding her back on his cock.

"Oh, fuck," she grunted, somewhat startled by Dan's aggressiveness. The fingers of her ring hand continued to play over her inflamed clit and her hips jerked haphazardly against the shaft invading her from behind. He knew she was on the verge of orgasm and battered against her upturned ass with increased force; her ass cheeks rippled at each intrusion.

But without warning, Mrs. Morgan removed her hand from between her legs and pushed herself up from the counter, causing Dan's cock to disengage from her distended hole. "Let's go somewhere else," she panted. "This is frustrating."

Dan still had her pinned against the counter and wrapped his muscular arms around her torso, his searching fingers finding her thick nipples, brushing against them before lightly pinching them between forefingers and thumbs. "What's frustrating about it, Mrs. Morgan?" he inquired, breathing into her ear through a few stray hairs that had escaped her ponytail.

"I just . . . wanna moan . . . and groan . . . and scream," she managed, her breath beginning to return to normal.

"I didn't know you were a screamer," Dan responded, moving back a little, giving her room to maneuver.

Still facing away from him, her eyes locked on the top of her husband's head, Mrs. Morgan reached behind her with her left hand and took Dan's dripping, overheated shaft in her fist, stroking him. "I've got a young . . . fat . . . cock . . . in my ass. . . . How could I not . . . want to . . . scream?"

Dan groaned as Steve's mom's wedding rings slid across the ridges of his cock, but released her nipples and took a step backward. "Lead the way," he said, patting her lightly on the ass.

Mrs. Morgan moved around the counter and back toward the television room, pausing at the entrance to ensure that her husband was still asleep. Satisfied that he was, she turned back to Dan and indicated with a nod of the head that he should follow. The two moved silently through the television room and back down the hallway to the library, olive oil dripping from between her rubbery legs, from the tip of his bobbing cock.

She entered the library first and, without pausing, pranced across the floor to one of the leather couches. Behind her, Dan shut and locked the massive oak door and turned to where she had retreated.

Her knees planted firmly on the center cushion the couch, her torso draped across its back, her arms behind her, manicured nails pulling her tight ass cheeks apart, Mrs. Morgan leered at Dan over her tanned shoulder. "Get over here and fuck my asshole, young man," she snarled.

He was already moving toward her and did not break stride as the filthy words spilled across the lips of his best friend's nasty mother. He stepped up behind her and with one hand pointed the purple head of his cock toward Mrs. Morgan's stretched anal opening, his other hand holding him steady against her soft left hip.

As his cockhead touched her anal ring, Mrs. Morgan's pulling fingers inched closer to her asshole. The picture of his shiny head poised at the entrance to her asshole, with her long, French-manicured nails holding herself open for him, the diamond of her engagement ring sparkling in the dim light of the room, etched itself forever in Dan's catalog of mental imagery.

Groaning, he pushed forward, his thick cock sliding into her easily now. Once firmly seated, he raised a bare foot to the leather of the couch and placed both of his strong hands on her pliant hips, his cock matching the pace it had achieved in the kitchen.

"Oohh, ggaawwdd," she moaned. "Sooo much better." Mrs. Morgan jammed her hips back against the young man, cherishing the way his thick cock pulled at the elastic ring of her asshole, the sensations that shot through her cunt as his heavy balls slapped against her hairless lips, tickling her clit. She steadied herself and again brought a hand between her legs, rubbing her exposed clit, feeling her cunt juices spread themselves over her long fingers. "I love . . . your cock . . . stretching . . . my . . . asshole!"

Dan grunted at Mrs. Morgan's lewd tongue but maintained his pace, slicing his oily cock in and out of her tight ass. Dropping to his knees on the couch behind her, he pushed the lascivious woman's crotch against the back of the couch and reached around to cup her wobbling tits, trapping the thick, throbbing nipples between his knuckles, pinching them hard.

She yelped in surprise, winced in pain, but any protest was quieted as Dan buried his cock to his balls in her asshole and held it there, twisting his hips and stretching her now tender asshole even further. His left hand released the raw nipple from its grasp and dropped to her crotch, pushing her hand aside. He coated a few fingers with Mrs. Morgan's own juices and brought them back to the nipple, the lubricating fluid soothing against the sore flesh.

He did the same to her right nipple before brutally taking both nipples between his fingers and twisting them ninety degrees. Mrs. Morgan's hand quickly left her clit and she braced herself against the back of the couch, screaming out, "Oohh, ffuucckk!"

He placed his lips against her left ear, whispering hot breath. "Want me to stop, Mrs. Morgan?" He knew it was a needless request.

"Fuck . . . no," the corrupt wife and mother moaned, jamming her hips back against her son's best friend, trying to get more of his thick cock buried in her asshole.

His cock still slamming into her, Dan twisted Mrs. Morgan's obscenely thick nipples further, again whispering to her. "You're a little nipple whore, aren't you?"

When she responded only with grunts and groans, her slim hips still trying to coax more inches into her anal opening, Dan pulled down on her nipples, distorting her enormous tits as they were pulled away from her trim torso. "Tell me, Mrs. Morgan," he commanded, giving a harsh tug at the deformed mounds of flesh and saline.

"Yyeess," she muttered, burying her face in the back of the couch, lipstick smearing the soft leather. "Abuse my nipples."

His fingers still gripping the substantial teats, Dan used them as reigns to pull Mrs. Morgan's huge tits to the side of her body before leaning against her and pushing her torso against the back of the couch. The effect kept her mounds spread to the side and squished against the leather, plainly visible from behind.

Releasing her pained nipples and placing a hand between her shoulder blades to keep her there, Dan moved upright and resumed his battering of Mrs. Morgan's stretched asshole, his free hand slapping her tight ass cheeks alternately.

"You're a . . . nasty little . . . slut . . . aren't you . . . Mrs. Morgan?"

"Mmmm," was all he heard in response, her pretty face having been buried in her own hands, bracing herself against the brutal ass-fucking she was taking at the hands of her son's best friend.

He reached below her and his fingers brushed against her sloppy clit, the lubrication from her cunt coating them instantly. He strummed two fingers across her clit repeatedly and Mrs. Morgan sucked in her breath. Her body tried to heave and jerk at the illicit contact but was still held steady against the back of the couch.

"You gonna cum, Mrs. Morgan?" he taunted, his fingers speeding across her slippery clit.

"Mm-hm," she moaned.

"Gonna cum . . . on my fingers . . . you nasty . . . fuckin' . . . whore?"

Mrs. Morgan merely jerked beneath him.

"With my cock . . . in your ass?" he continued to goad.

Mrs. Morgan's head shot up from its resting place, her ponytail whipping back and slapping across Dan's muscular chest. A rush of breath swept across her lips. "Ooohhh, ffuucckk!" she spat, turning her head and presenting her pretty face to Dan. "Keep doing that . . . to my clit," she moaned, her breath erratic and her body convulsing beneath the broad, insistent hand that had her pinned to the couch.

Dan increased the speed of his fingers across her abused clit and his cock continued to penetrate her tender asshole as Mrs. Morgan's body heaved and shook and trembled beneath him before going rigid and motionless. Her head still turned toward him, Dan watched as her eyes screwed shut and her shiny red lips parted as if to scream. But no noise was forthcoming.

Instead, the slutty housewife began quivering and trembling again and her head fell to the back of the couch. "Uuuhhh, gggaaawwwddd," she grunted from deep in her throat, her body trying to thrash from side to side, her fake tits squeaking across the sweat-soaked leather of the couch.

Her hips bounced and jerked and jammed the elastic ring of her asshole against the sensitive underside of Dan's invading cock, bringing him to the edge of his own orgasm. The palm of one hand pushed Mrs. Morgan tighter into the back of the couch, the fingers of the other sinking into the soft, pliant flesh of one of her trim hips.

"Where . . . do you want . . . me to . . . cum?" he managed.

"In my . . . ass!" Mrs. Morgan groaned. "Dump your . . . boy-cum . . . deep in my . . . asshole!"

Jamming his cock back into her asshole, holding it there, grinding the underside of his cock against her, Dan's eyes slammed shut as cum spilled from his balls, coursed through the length of his shaft and splattered against the hot, oil-slicked walls of Mrs. Morgan's asshole. He jerked, then again, as his heavy balls ejected a second then third stream of cum, spitting the thick, stringy fluid from the tip of his cockhead.

Cum still dribbling from his cock, Dan pulled back allowing his shaft to slip from Mrs. Morgan's battered hole. He twisted around and fell into the back of the couch with a "Holy shit," his eyes closed as he attempted to regain his breath.

Mrs. Morgan peeled herself off the back of the couch and turned around to sit next to him, her body turned toward him and one leg tucked beneath her. When Dan recovered, he opened his eyes to find her staring at him.

"Happy now?" she asked, her sexy, sweat-tinged body quivering as the boy-cum leaked from her loosened asshole.

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Happy that you forced your best friend's mother to debase herself for your disgusting perversions?"

Dan couldn't tell if she was serious or not. In the end, he didn't care. "Yeah. I am."

Mrs. Morgan just shook her head. "You're still an asshole."

"And you're still an ass whore."

"Get out."

"Gladly. But I'll be back, Mrs. Morgan," he promised, rising from the couch to find his clothes. "I haven't exhausted my imagination with you just yet."