An unhappily married young woman hires a teenager to mow her lawn and satisfy her needs

Anyway, I was sitting there in the busy shop getting my
roots taken care of and my nails done and the thin
woman beside me, she was laid all the way back and
getting a wash and rinse, she started talking about the
boy that cut her lawn and then fucked her silly. Of
course she said he was hung like a horsy; don’t they
always say that? She said she was sore for a week.

But it got my attention since I’ve been having a
terrible itch, a serious need, a real hunger, and when
she sat up with a towel about her head I introduced
myself and asked about the boy. She told me his name,
Billy Somebody-or-other, and said he was only fifteen,
but that he was absolutely tireless with a man-sized
root and very considerate manner. So I filed that
information away along with his phone number which she
got off her cell phone and when I got home I called him
and left a message, feeling foolish of course. Horny
but foolish.

Anyway, I’m twenty-eight years old and I’ve been
married for three years and I love my handsome husband
dearly. He makes a lot of money, but he is a dud in
bed, when he gets there which is seldom. The man works
sixty or seventy hours a week and then he golfs and
plays tennis and has one night out with the boys, as he
calls them, probably fucks his bimbo secretary now and
then, and on Sunday night, if he remembers, he climbs
between my legs and pounds me for a couple of minutes
with his more than adequate weapon before he flops down
and starts snoring.

I’ve got some toys, including a battery powered one
with a clit feeler that’s great if a bit cumbersome,
but I need a real cock, and I need it badly and often,
and I certainly don’t care how old it is, seventeen or
seventy. I just need a man between my legs, a male
chest on my body, the smell and taste of an eager man.
Before I married Jim, I was what is usually called
sexually active which means I hooked up with men
regularly and enjoyed almost every one of them

Anyway, in an hour or two Billy returned my call, and I
told him where I got his name and he said he could do
my lawn the next day, which was Friday, and I said
great and he said he’d be there about nine. After I
hung up, I got out my favorite toy and spent an hour or
so on my bed, moaning and gasping while I exercised my
mons, clitoral and vaginal muscles, getting ready for

So the next morning I showered and shaved my legs,
underarms, belly and vulva, used some light perfume,
inserted my diaphragm, stimulated my clit so it stood
erect, fluffed up my hair and pulled on my brand new
babydoll pajama top. It was icy blue, spaghetti
strapped and just about transparent, very frilly at the
deep hem which reached about mid-butt and barely
covered my rounded ass and my needy pussy if I stood

I got the strap to hang off one shoulder, baring the
tit if I moved. When I was younger, I was tempted to
have my jugs augmented, but they filled out nicely as I
matured and were now just about perfect 36C’s, high and
hard. I walked toward my mirror and watched a pale boob
appear and then hide. I got my feet into high-heeled
mules and was ready, more than ready, almost dripping.
I felt like I was going to the prom or something, like
a nervous teenager, hot to trot, my labia actually
fluttering. I had the urge to stick one of my big
dildos all the way in but somehow resisted. Even my
anus seemed excited.

So about ten of nine, here he comes, on a bicycle; I
was going to take a lover that rode to work on a bike.
I laughed at myself and felt my cheeks redden. He
knocked at the back door and I let him in, and he just
stood there gawking at me as I leaned back at the
marble counter and smiled at him, feet wide apart and
frilly little, transparent top barely hanging to my
excited nipples and flowing about my belly and hips. I
had posed before my mirror, and I knew what he was
seeing, my pink inner and quivering outer sex lips,
ready for action, my muscular legs, my jutting boobs,
my shaved mons dripping.

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