Mrs Coleman

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Tem 5, 2020 // By:analsex // No Comment

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Mrs ColemanI’ve travelled almost my entire working life, mostly as a seafarer. Whilst I’ve had an amazing time, it meant that meeting – and keeping – someone special has been a real challenge. One of the ways that my wife and I have managed to keep our relationship fresh is through telling stories. It made the miles seem shorter, the separations easier.I hope you enjoy them as much as we have…I wasn’t a very disciplined youth. To this day I have no real idea why I volunteered for the Army. When it came down to it, I’d had enough of being a boy and wanted a short cut to manhood. I loved the outdoors and being fit, but had no real idea of the commitment it would ask of me. Leaving college and waiting to go to basic training, I must have been a total pain in the ass.than jacking off in my shed. Still, you took a step in the right direction. I mentioned rules, didn’t I”, she mused. “Listen carefully. My rules are simple, but if either of us break one, you’re done. Understand?” I didn’t but I nodded anyway. For the first time I’d met her, Mrs Coleman smiled a genuinely warm smile. I saw that she was having fun, and not at my expense. It wasn’t just me who she wanted to have an adventure.”My rules are this. First, do what you’re told when I tell you. Don’t hesitate. That rule’s about trusting me, okay?” I nodded.”Second, we will never ever touch each other. Whatever happens, I will do what I choose to do, and so will you, but I’m married and you are, well, a boy. That one’s about faithfulness and respect. I’m going to be faithful and you’re going to respect it”.I kinda got it. But even with my fertile and truly depraved imagination, I still needed leading. Mrs Coleman was still standing close. I could feel the electricity coming off her she was so close. Just not touching. I lifted my hand from where they’d been clasped behind my back, and she stepped back.”No touching.” The steel inI was more interested in hanging with my friends, getting the deepest tan possible and maybe – just maybe – losing my virginity. Commitment, hard work and determination were the kind of boring nothingness my D*d used to spout when he wanted to remind me of how much I had to live up to, him being a Sergeant Major and all.So you can imagine how impressed I was when they came home from Church the first Sunday of the summer break all full of how they had found me a job remodelling the garden for one of our neighbours. Now I liked gardening, and the physical labour would help me with my upper body fitness, but work for a neighbour? Heaven help me, that was one short of slavery.I went over late the first morning, mostly hoping that if I did a poor job maybe I could get myself fired by lunchtime and still be able to get some pool time before dinner. My folks hadn’t told me who the neighbour was, just given me the address, so I was more than a little taken aback when Mrs Coleman answered the door. Mr – no, make that Major – Coleman was my f*ther’s boss. All of a sudden things were serious.On my best behaviour, I apologised for my late arrival, but Mrs Coleman didn’t seem bothered. She had a kind of dreamlike quality that made me seriously wonder if she was on something you couldn’t get over the counter. The first day she encouraged me to look around, get a feel for the place and come up with some ideas. I couldn’t believe my luck – it felt like she had agreed to have me over and pay me to keep out of her way. I knew my old guy could be a bit pushy, but surely I wasn’t going to get paid for hiding in the Coleman garden shed because he’d talked them into it?Looking round, I quickly realised that the Major wasn’t in town. He was deployed somewhere warm and his home was suffering because Mrs Coleman was quite clearly not about to achieve much while he wasn’t there to support her. There was lots to do, but I wasn’t about to upset my personal gravy train. The first few days I mowed sakarya escort and raked some, but spent most of my time in the potting shed smoking a little weed, reading and of course masturbating. And I did that a lot. Who wouldn’t in my situation? I was young, fit and male. I could get it up half a dozen times a day without breaking a sweat and,given the peaceful seclusion of the Coleman garden, that’s exactly what I did.My late teenage self was 6’2″, darkly tanned like a Greek or an Italian with a solid square shouldered build and thick, wavy, almost black hair. I say almost because it had chocolatey golden brown streaks which appeared in the sunshine. I had quite a hairy chest which dwindled to a thin stripe of hair at my navel and pretty much disappeared when it reached the base of my cock. I’d discovered the joy of trimming my pubes early on because the alternative was too horrible to contemplate, even in the truly hirsute late seventies!My preferred method was to take off my shorts and underpants, leaving me with my shirt covering my shoulders but undone at the front. Anyone glancing into the shed window would have thought I was fully dressed. I could then rub my cock in the cool darkness of the shed and happily explode onto the plank floor without worrying too much about Mrs Coleman catching sight of me if she walked across the garden. I loved sitting back in the old armchair, shooting my cum in a thick white fountain into the air and leaving it to pool on my skin until it was time to clean up and get on with another job.After the first few days I got quite brazen, and would mark each completed gardening task with a quicky. I’d sit in the shade to recover, my cock never seeming to go completely soft. Nobody disturbed me.”Do you usually spend your breaks half naked?”, she said. I nearly jumped straight through the ceiling! Frantically trying to get my shorts up my thighs, stand up and answer her question all at once it was a wonder I didn’t knock the glasses of cola clean out of her hands. A lot more sharply alert than at any other time she’d spoken to me, Mrs Coleman had picked a great time to bring me a drink.She set one glass on a shelf and looked me slowly up and down. Her expression was part humour, part disgust. Her eyes were hard above her slight smirk.”Get cleaned up and come find me. I’ll be in the kitchen”, she said. Then she spun on her heel and disappeared, leaving just the faintest hint of her perfume on the air.Mrs Coleman was nearly my mother’s age maybe mid to late thirties. She was a natural redhead, with the pale almost white skin of a northern woman. Like blood on snow, as a certain gifted songwriter once said. About 5’8″ she was tall for a female yet looked small next to me or her husband as we were both comfortably over six feet tall. She was curvy too, full at bust and hip yet with her height she had the look of a much slimmer woman. With her long wavy hair falling well below her shoulder, Mrs Coleman was hot enough to truly scare the shit out of me!Sitting at the breakfast bar in her kitchen, Mrs Coleman was cradling a cup of coffee in her hands and waiting for me. She had on a button through corduroy skirt, a light cotton blouse and a pair of old leather loafers. The skirt was dark chocolate, the blouse cream. She looked relaxed, like she was enjoying my discomfort.”I don’t think there’s much explaining you could really do, is there Mike?” she said.She was looking straight at me, I was looking anywhere but at her. I just wanted to die. Any scorn she wanted to heap on me was nothing compared to what my D*d was likely to do.”No Ma’am”, I replied. A whole life lived on Army posts made you respectful of your elders.”So I’m guessing that my telling anyone how I found you today would pretty much end your chances of just about anything, wouldn’t it?” she said. I looked straight at her, puzzled and wary. escort sakarya I wasn’t sure how mad she actually was, but that was an odd way to open the conversation.”Well Ma’am, I guess I have a lot of making up to do. If you’re even willing to keep quiet, I’d do anything you want to earn it.” I’m not the greatest negotiator, but it’s amazing what you’ll do to avoid public shame. My ass was hers, and she knew it.”Okay Mike, I shall give that some thought”, she smiled. “In the meantime, I want you to take off all your clothes”. I nearly fell over.”Don’t smile”, she muttered, jaws clenched, “Don’t you dare grin. As of this moment, you owe me. Don’t forget that, not for so much as a nanosecond”. Her eyes glittered, hard, bright, excited. Green eyes, I noted.Slipping off her stool, Mrs Coleman walked right up to me and stared me straight in the eyes.”Strikes me you’re not used to rules, young man. Well rules are apparently meant to be broken. I suspect that means that they’re negotiable, which of course they are. You can walk out of my house right now and never come back. By the end of this afternoon your life will have changed forever and the shame will be with you for years. Or you can stay right where you are, choose to live by my rules and have adventures. Nothing i*****l, but nothing anyone would believe either. Which is it to be?” She wasn’t smiling now.I folded my shirt and laid it on the counter. I laid my shorts and underpants on top, neatly. I unlaced my boots instead of just kicking them off and put them under the counter below my clothes, my socks folded into the left hand boot. My face was so hot it must have been bright red. My now naked cock was completely shrivelled. There was nothing horny about the way I felt at that moment.Mrs Coleman just stood and watched. As I stood naked and still before her, I began to relax.”Well done”, she smiled. “Please don’t forget”, she added, “I say you snuck in and stripped off, and you’d be guilty of way moreher tone was palpable.”Yes Mrs Coleman, I get that”, I said. “My skin will never touch yours, you can trust me on that, but you gotta give me some leeway to show you what I can come up with”. I grinned, and reached ever so slowly for the top button of her blouse. She stood stock still as I took hold of the button and used it to lift the material away from her skin. Holding the material in one hand, I undid the button with the other. She smiled. I undid the next one, moving slowly so as not to accidentally brush her skin or even her hair with my hand. I knelt down, my knees apart for stability but also to allow my now rock hard erection to swing free without risking touching her with it.Mrs Coleman looked down the length of her body at my cock, a little smile playing on her lips. I wasn’t fresh – I could smell the cum on my skin from earlier – but I couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking. I undid the blouse and helped her shrug it off her shoulders. She simply dropped it and lifted her hands up behind her head, tying her hair into a loose bun as she did so. I started at the hem of her button through, working upwards this time. I could hear her breathing change. This was getting serious. Careful not to touch, I got to the top button.”Mrs Coleman”, I said softly, “I need some help here. Will you please pull your waistband so I can get the last button open?” She did just that, pulling the waistband tighter, creating just enough slack at the button for me to undo it and keep hold of the material either side. She put her hands back up behind her head, her breasts lifted and taught as a result. Her nipples peaked easily under the sheer lace of the bra cups, coral pink against her pale skin.I let go one side of her skirt and it swooshed around her hips and onto the floor. She was wearing matching bra and knickers in a dark wine coloured material with lacy panels at the front. I could sakarya escort bayan see her dark golden pubic hair, trimmed and shaped but still thick and luxurious.By now I was both outstandingly horny and at a total loss as to how to get any further. I got to my feet and stared at her body. Incredible. Her hands were still behind her head, her breasts thrust up towards me, her shoulders arched. Then it hit me and I walked round behind her.”Ma’am”, I said, “You have an arse to die for”. Mrs Coleman giggled, but stood still, waiting. Reaching into the valley of her spine created by her raised arms, I easily unclipped her bra. She dropped her arms and just stood there.”You’re really making me work for this Ma’am”, I said. She spun on her heel and stared up at me, angry and visibly horny all at once. Pulling her bra from her breasts, she threw it at me. Then I finally got it. Dropping to my knees again, I barked “Suck your belly in. Hard as you can”. The little gaps in her groins (look it up…) were just enough for me to hook my fingertips in and pull the waistband of her knickers away from her skin. Sliding my fingers round over the curve of her hips, I yanked them down in one motion. She shuddered and gasped. “Gotcha!” I thought.Scrambling to my feet, I indicated the stool. “Get on there, but keep your feet apart”. Mrs Coleman hopped up onto the stool, her buttocks on the seat and the tips of her toes on the floor. All the muscles in her legs were tensed, as were her tummy muscles. The slot of her outer pussy lips was clearly visible through her hair, the inner lips shiny but not yet protruding. I stood between her feet and grasped my cock at the base, my balls in my hand and the shaft pointed straight at her mound. Using my thumb, I rolled the foreskin back making the whole kitchen smell of precum.Dragging my eyes up her body, I found myself lookinginto the smiling face of a very aroused woman.”Match my pace”, she said, calmly and clearly, as she reached down with one hand and slid a finger between her lips. The movement changed the aroma in the room. Now all I could smell was wet cunt. I was quite literally salivating.”You want to taste it, don’t you”, she smirked. “Well you can’t. But you can breathe it in while you jack off. Beats mouldy old garden shed.” Her finger began to move, making the rhythmic friction to which we’re all so addicted. I matched her, rub for rub, my cock growing even harder, precum drooling from the end. Her inner lips swelled and opened, making her wet fingers look like they were pretty much disappearing inside her. As they worked at her sex, her fingers were slowly coated in a thick layer of juice. Mrs Coleman’s now soaked wedding ring glistened in the afternoon sun.Her tits jiggled as she frigged, the nipples hard and puckered. She stared alternately into my eyes and at my cock, my fist clenched hard around its shaft, the head shiny and moist with precum. Reading my mind, Mrs Coleman reached up with her free hand and squeezed her nipple, lifting her breast and letting it fall back. She grunted each time she did it, her breathing getting steadily more ragged.It wasn’t long before my balls began to tighten, my tummy mucles following suit.”Does cum count as touching?” I gasped, ready.”No”, she grunted, eyes glazed, totally focused on my cock. Her fingers were a blur, her pussy so wet the noise was a constant squelching.”Good”, I grunted, my hips thrusting forward, my back arching. She yelled when the first spurt hit her, leaving a white weal across the top of her thigh, her pubic mound and her belly. Then she was cumming too, the spasms making her almost double up, her feet leaving the floor, her cries unnaturally loud in the quiet kitchen.By the time we’d both finished, Mrs Coleman was striped with streak after streak of sperm from her throat to her knees, her tits and belly covered in shiny white marks. We stood opposite each other, slowly regaining our composure. Cum dripped from my cock onto the floor between our feet.Mrs Coleman licked her fingers, an impish grin on her face.”I guess we’re in this now together, wouldn’t you say?”, she chuckled. ***

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