I went out to check the mail, and these boys pushed their friend forward to talk to me. As if they’d been waiting for me to come out.
#BBW
“Hey, Mrs. Pasternak.”
“Hi, Joey.”
“Where’s Fadey?”
“Huh, well the Air Conditioner’s gone out, and Inessa got sick. So, he had to take her over to their grandparents house until we get it fixed.”
The other boys came over, and I’m an older woman. Married, a mother, full figured, and I’m not giving you my measurements, or age. Old enough to know what kind of attention I’m getting from the boys.
“Let me help you with that.” I handed over the package from Woman Within, but it was hardly a burden. Probably another light dress, but they didn’t wait for me to invite them into the house.
“Jesus it’s hot in here.”
“Huh!” I felt sweat on the back of my neck. “Yeah, the AC broke down.” I looked over at the towel by the couch, where I cleaned up the sick, and put a towel down to soak up the damp patch.
“Where’s Fadey?”
“At his grandparents, with his sister.” I know, I’m repeating myself, but I picked up the towel, and carried it back to the washing machine. Opened up the doors, and just threw it on-top, but when I turned around, the boys had lined up at the end of the hall.
They looked up from the open back, and exposed bra straps. “Hey, Mrs. Pasternak, Is it true that you’re nudists?”
“Huh!” I turned around, and leaned back against the washing machine. “No, not exactly. Joey?” He nodded, “I wonder if you could do me a favor, and go get my phone. It’s bye the bed, plugged into the charger on my night stand.”
“Okay, sure thing, I’ll be right back.” He ran off, excitedly, leaving me with his 2 friends. They just looked at me shyly, but honestly. I’m not flattered, I just thought that they always came over to look at my daughter, Inessa.
She’s younger than them, but a teenager now, too. She didn’t mind the attention, and I’d had to wash spunk down the sink on more than one occasion, from them going in the bathroom to masturbate.
“Here you go, Mrs.”
“Aksana, thank you.” I took my phone, “You can call me Aksana.”
“Is that Russian, too?” I nodded, texting my husband. [Hey, honeybear. The repairman is finally here, but he wants to take some photos.
😉 (.Y.)]
“Here,” I handed the phone to Joey, and he read the message.
“What’s this?”
I sighed, and reached back to pull the bow out of the straps, around my neck. The phone buzzed.
“What’s he say?” Letting them fall down, and hugging my chest, cradling my sweaty bra cups in my arms.
“Huh?” He shook his head, while his friends came behind him to look over his shoulders.
“My husband, what did he send back?”
“Oh,” he looked down. “Just send me what he finds.” Shaking his head, confused.
I nodded, and turned around. “Joey, you ever unhooked a bra before?” His hands were shaking, but he didn’t have any trouble. “Uh, thanks.” Honestly, I only put the dress on in the first place to go down to the mailbox. I couldn’t exactly check the mail in my underwear, but I dropped my bra, and wiped under my breasts. Holding them, I turned around, and backed up.
“Peter, can you turn on the hall light?” He shut his mouth, and a little drool ran down out of the corner of it, but he didn’t notice. just nodded, and reached back. Blindly, his eyes locked onto my chest until he found it, and turned it on.
I shook my hair, to free the wisps from sticking to my neck. I lowered my voice, to a sultry whisper. ‘why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer.’
PIC! He held the phone up, sideways. “Uh, send it to Mr. Pasternak?”
“Mh hm!” I smiled, and turned. Slipping one hand off my breast, to cross the other one over. Cradle it, and cup the other. Bending a knee up against the wall at the end of the hall. “Huh, in answer to your question, no.” I posed, and he took another PIC! The boys looked over his shoulders, his Wing-men? I guess that’s what they’re calling them these days, but with a hand free, I could reach back, and unbutton the bottom of the dress.
Turning to look back, and pull it down over the whale tail of my thong underwear. “My husband likes to think of me as his personal porn star.” I turned the handle and opened the door to the studio. “Uh!” I had the fans running in there. They’re mostly used for drying pottery, and the children’s sculptures for the kiln. Also, blowing the hot air out the window when it’s running, but now I used them to let my hair down, and blow dry, shaking it. “Hah!”
“So, you think it would be okay, if Joey made a porno with you?”
“While you watched?” I shook my head. “No, we’re going to take some pictures, and you’re going to stay out of them. Are either of you two 18?”
“No, maam.” So polite, always so polite, and respectful. Even hopped up on hormones, with that nagging erection, and the constant need to jack off, in the bathroom. “Just me.”
“Huh, well! Happy birthday.”
“Well, it was a couple months ago.”
“Well, I’m sorry you missed it, so why don’t you hand the phone over to your friends, so you can finish unwrapping your present?”
I turned around, and sat down on the end of the bed. Sometime, my husband. (He’s the artist) works late, or sleeps down here to keep an eye on a batch. I swear to god, he lies down right here, to watch the glaze dry, and make sure it doesn’t crack in the Kiln.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you’ve got an incredible body.”
“Oh, no. Not at all.”
PIC! I glanced up. “Send these too?”
“Oh yes, of course.” I patted the mattress next to me. “Come here. Sit down.” I put my arm around him, and looked back at the boys. Already rubbing their crotches excitedly, but I had to push his hand down off my breast. “Wait.” I patted it on his lap, “Smile for the camera.”
He looked over, and they took another PIC! I leaned over, ‘you know what, would really blow his mind?’ I whispered in his ear, he shook his head, never taking his eyes off my heaving chest. “Uh!” I felt his crotch, and rubbed it. ‘if i molested you, like a little boy.’
“Oh, uh!” He crossed his knees, shaking, so I slipped my fingers out, too late.
“Huh!” I shook my head. “Boys.” Rolling my eyes, a little disappointed. Even though this isn’t the first time it has happened to me. All right, look. I know just the act of denying it just raises the suspicion, but when I say boys, I mean teenagers. Not little boys, my husband isn’t into that either. He loves me, my body, playing photographer/model games with him, and our friends. Other couples, but there are minimum ages for a reason. Don’t try this at home, the other boys were old enough to drive at least.
“Boys, stop playing with the phone, and put them down.” I got up. “Before you wet your pants too.”
“Oh!” Joey grabbed my hips from behind, pulled my sweaty back up against his teeshirt, and felt up my tummy to give me the hand bra.
PIC!
“Huh, get your little peckers out.”
“Uh, okay?” They looked at each other nervously.
“Don’t look at him, look at me. It’s not gay, it’s a gangbang.”
“Yes, Mrs. Aksana.” So polite, always so shy, and polite. I was lucky to even get their names, they were so quiet, and avoided eye contact. I suppose that’s why I always assumed that they came over to masturbate in my sink, thinking about my daughter. She’s so much younger, and skinnier, but some boys just like older women. With experience, full figures, and of course being buxom always helps get their attention.
I just wish they hadn’t wasted so much time, pushing their Alpha forward to make a move. At least we could have had the Air Conditioner running, so it wasn’t such a sweatbox in here.
;
Hot Momma (Wmmm)
Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been gangbanged, but at some point, it’s impossible to keep track of who’s doing what. With a prick in my mouth, his hairy crotch in my face, and another one rubbing my cheek over my shoulder. 6 hands trying their best to touch me all over my body at once, while Joey.
Bless his heart, he awkwardly, but enthusiastically explored my ladyspace with his tongue. After he’d already blown it, fortunately what he lacked in staying power, he made up for with a quick recovery, and by bringing friends.
I’m not a size queen, but 3 pricks are more than enough. The other 2 (I’m just going to call them Willy, and Peter) got over their nervousness from when I told them to get their little pricks out. They didn’t seem to mind touching head to head, trying to get both in my mouth at once.
“Oomph!” I had to shake my head, and lick back and forth. Head to head, but then I crossed their swords.
“Uh, Mrs. Sorry.” Joey got up, and took his shirt off. Skinny, and pale, he wasn’t one to walk around topless in the sun. Even in this weather. “Aksana, do you have any rubbers down here?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” I let go of the Willy, and Peter to reach out to him. “Come here, boy. I’m on birth control, just. Hold still.” I had to bend it down, and aim him with the Vulkan grip. (Not the nerve pinch, the sign for “Live Long and Prosper”) “Huh!” But as soon as he slipped in, I rubbed my pubes, and scratched his. “Now fuck me, baby. Don’t hold back.” Running my hands up his sides, and feeling his buttocks flex with his passionate fucking.
Propped up on my breasts, he had to bend his elbows a little to get a good angle, and start gently patting our pubic hairs together. Inside me, but I’ve had 2 kids, and a whole lot of men. Not my first gangbang, but while that doesn’t make you “Loose,” or pull your meat curtains out like a few common mythconceptions, you do tend to lose a little sensitivity.
Also, I’ve never been so sensitive inside that I could read the patterns in his bulging veins like braille, or feel the splashes of his baby-batter against my cervix. I’ve read stories, but if you’re here, I shouldn’t have to point out that most sex stories, even the ones that aren’t complete fantasies are at least embellished.
“Oh, oh god, Mrs. Paster, nhH!” He slowed down, and I just hugged him. Shivering, and breathing shuddering breaths on the side of my face. Still hot from sweat, spit, and a little premen from. I blinked, and looked around.
“Huh!” I patted his shoulder, and put my elbow down. “Joey, could you go get my phone, from where they left it?”
They left?
“Here,” he turned around, waddling with his pants still down around his shoes, and his prick swinging, with a little drop clinging to the glistening circumcised bell.
“Huh!” I scooted back, so I could put my knees up, spread myself wide open (Again, Vulcan grip) Took a deep breath, and held it. Low, sucking in my gut a little until I felt it pop out. Roll down, and looked up when I heard him snap the PIC!
“Bring it here,” I waved him over, and wiped my fingers off on the sheets.
[He said he’d take a deposit.] I carefully lined up the shot on the screen, and sent him a close-up. “Huh, where did the other 2 get off to?”
“I don’t know, probably beating each other off in the bathroom.”
“Uh?” I shook my head.
He nodded, “Heah, they say it isn’t gay, but come on, guys. You’re going to leave a hot horny woman to go fuck around alone together?” he hokked his thumb over his shoulder, down the hall.
I shook my head. “Oh,” my husband sent back. [Best series yet! All the guys at work love them, and they can’t wait to see more.] I don’t have to really imagine the whole crew trying to get in the tiny office to look at them together. Since I’d actually been there, and seen that for myself.
[Just so you know, he’s 18.]
[Yeah, I know, Fad told me. So, is he gonna stick around, or can he cum back, after work?]
“Hey, Joey.” He got his pants pulled up, but then he looked back.
“Yes, Aksana?”
“Hm, well my husband was wondering if you wouldn’t mind cumming back later?”
“Nothing gay.”
“No, not as long as you’re comfortable with him watching, taking video, and sloppy seconds when you’re done.”
“Like a porno?”
“Yes, that’s right. Exactly like amateur pornography. So, how’d you like to do that for my husband, and I?”
“Guys guys!” He ran out, and he didn’t even take his shirt. “Guess what, you’re never going to believe it!” He beat on the bathroom door. “Open up, I know you’re probably giving each other head in there, and I don’t care if you’re gay.”
“Oh,” they finally opened up. “We’re not gay, who told you that?”
“Duh, the way you look at guys and each other told me that, come on.”
“No it doesn’t, we’re totally bi.”
“Oh.” He reached in to pull them both out by the hands. “Come on, Mrs. Akasana? When they get their birthdays, can they make pornos with us too?”
“Huh, when do you turn 18?” I picked up my phone to text my husband. [You remember that Bisexual 3sum you always wanted me to do?] it’s not underage porn if we don’t record it. Until they turn 18, at least.
[Yeah, which one?]
[2 boys]
[Oh yeah? Fuck yeah! db!]
[db db]
[…9]
Yeah, we’ve got our own little code, but “Safe for work” takes on a whole nother meaning, when he manages the kitchen at a Hooters.
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