Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ________________________________ This is a story about a sexual FANTASY
written for consenting adults.  If you're not both of those, don't read it.
Characters in a FANTASY don't get sick or die unless I want them to.  In
real life, people who don't use condoms and other safe-sex techniques do
get sick and die.  You don't live in a FANTASY so be safe.  The fictional
characters in my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY -
don't try to do what they do - someone could get hurt.

   If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here,
congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the characters
in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, since all of
these characters are figments of my dirty little imagination.

   This is my story, not yours.  Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. 
You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact,
but if you make money off of it, you're breaking the law and pissing me
off. _________________________________ I don't recall having seen a story
or series titled "Me and Mrs.  Jones" before, but I would be surprised if
there weren't several out there - it's such a natural for this sort of
story.  Anyway, my apologies to anyone who might have used it before, but I
couldn't think of a better title for this series! 
_________________________________ Me and Mrs.  Jones - Chapter 1: We Get a
Thing Goin' On (F/m oral anal toys Fdom?) (C)Copyright 2003 - Shakes Peer2B
shakes_peer2b@NONOsbcglobal.net (remove 'NONO' from above address)
/files/Authors/Shakes_Peer2B/
http://storiesonline.net/ (go to the Author's page under 'S')

   ________ "Me-e-e and Mrs., Mrs.  Jones, Mrs.  Jones, Mrs.  Jones We got
a thiiing, goin' on..."

   That song fragment (if I ever knew the rest of the lyrics, I forgot them
long ago) has been playing in my head for the last fourteen years and
change, ever since I made the fateful decision to disobey my parents and
ask Mrs.  Jones if I could mow her lawn.

   When I was thirteen, Mrs.  Jones moved into the house on the corner of
my block - the one surrounded by high hedges, so that you could only catch
glimpses of the roof as you passed.  There was a Mr.  Jones, as well, but
no one ever talked about him, unless it was to sympathize with the poor
man.

   Rumors flew from the day Mrs.  Jones first stuck those long sleek legs
out the door of her brand new Jaguar and held her hand just so, for Mr. 
Jones to help her out.  Without visible effort, the two of them got the
rest of her impressive physique stacked atop those long slender columns
supported by impossibly high heels, and, all laws of physics to the
contrary, when Mr.  Jones released her hand, she stood, nonchalantly
surveying, through her stylish sunglasses, those of us who stood gawping at
this extraordinary creature, whose straight black, ass length hair, wafted
gently in the afternoon breeze.

   Like a sniper looking for a target, she scanned the faces of the lookers
on, slowly turning her head from one side to the other.  When she spotted
me, leaning on the handle of the lawnmower I had been pushing up the
street, she stopped, removed her sunglasses and smiled, just a little.

   BANG!  I didn't hear the shot, but I felt the impact as it hit me right
in the heart (or, perhaps, a foot or so lower).  From that moment, I was
lost.

   My parents, of course, and all the neighbors, were abuzz with
declarations of what a brazen hussy that Mrs.  Jones had to be, strutting
around in those tight dresses, showing all that cleavage, and flirting with
just about everybody, including girls and women!

   I was expressly forbidden from going anywhere near the Jones residence,
and was not to offer to do any work for the witch.

   "She's EVIL!" my mother practically screamed, spittle flying from the
corners of her mouth, when I dared to ask why.

   I believed her.  Mrs.  Jones LOOKED evil.  Her dark eyebrows arched
dangerously over violet eyes that pierced right to the depths of my soul
when she looked at me.  Her perfect nose topped full, moist, sensuous,
scarlet lips, that wore a tiny perpetual smile, as if she knew something
the rest of us didn't.  Her high, full breasts seemed never to be covered
much beyond the nipple, and her bare, slender waist flared into a wide,
flat pelvis that framed perfectly her bejeweled navel (this was years
before navel jewelry became a fashion overstatement) and softly rounded
lower belly.

   Most often, she wore skintight short-shorts or micro-mini skirts, when
she was in public, to accentuate the length and curvature of her luscious
legs.  To this day, I don't recall ever seeing her feet clad in anything
less than four inch heels.

   She must have been five-eight or -nine, but to my smitten
thirteen-year-old eyes, she looked to be at least twelve feet tall.

   She was evil, all right, but to me, she was also irresistable.  I waited
a week after my mother forbade me to go near her before wheeling my
lawnmower through the gate in the hedge and knocking on her front door.

   When she opened the inner door, saying "Yes?", I almost fell backwards
off the step.  There, with nothing between us but a thin layer of screen,
was my dream woman, wearing nothing but a frilly black lace see-through
garment that started at her crotch and swooped high above her hipbones,
leaving her hips and much of her buttocks and sides bare, before flaring
out to tightly embrace her magnificent torso and lovingly cradle those
marvelous mounds, once again covering them to just above the nipples.  I
was in heaven and hell at the same time.  I could see more of this gorgeous
creature than I had ever dreamed possible, but seemingly unintentionally,
the lace pattern hid the part of her breasts I most wanted to see.  I must
have stood transfixed for some time, staring at her breasts, catching a
tiny glimpse of the edge of an aureola, but never seeing the prize.

   "Jimmy, isn't it?" she asked in a sultry, bedroom voice.

   I swallowed hard, nodding, and with a herculean effort, managed to tear
my gaze from her chest, only to find those strange violet eyes burning
holes through the screen, while the smile grew on her ruby lips.

   I had just enough presence of mind to step out of the way as she pushed
the screen open and pretended to stand aside, so I could come in.  There
was no way I could get through that door without brushing against her
breasts, unless I really wanted to embarrass myself by ducking under them,
so, red-faced and holding my breath, I flattened my back against the
door-jamb and tried to slip inside without doing too much touching.  As I
came abreast of her (no pun intended, but what the hell, if you like it, go
with it!) she made a slight movement while allowing the screen door to
close, and to my utter mortification, her hip brushed against my raging
hard-on as it tried to rip a hole in my jean shorts while her breasts
mashed themselves into my chest.

   Her smile seemed to get even wider, but without pausing, she took a
short silver chain off a hook by the door and beckoned me to follow her.

   I don't know who kept her house clean, since I couldn't see her doing
housework, but the place was immaculate.  She led me to the small table in
the kitchen, on which lay a newspaper and a steaming cup of coffee.  She
motioned me to the chair next to hers and turned that gigawatt smile on me.

   "How much do you charge for mowing lawns, Jimmy?"

   "I - How?  - Uh, what I mean...!" I floundered for a bit, wondering if
she could read my mind.

   She smiled even brighter.  "I saw the lawnmower on the walkway, Jimmy,
it wasn't hard to guess!"

   I felt like the world's biggest fool.  "Oh, uh, yeah.  Uh, anyway, what
I charge depends on, you know, uh, the size of the yard 'n stuff."

   She placed a soft, well-manicured hand on my bare thigh and brought her
face close to mine, whispering throatily, "So, for a yard the size of mine,
what would you charge?"

   I couldn't tear my gaze from her lips as the tip of her tongue played
slowly around them.  "I, uh, well, uh, maybe, uh ten bucks?" Her yard was
huge, and I would have charged anyone else twice that, but I thought that
if I gave her a big discount, I'd have a better chance of getting the job -
hell, I'd have done it for free, just for the chance to see her now and
then.

   Her forefinger traced a line up my thigh to the frayed hem of my shorts.
"I'm going to tell you a secret, Jimmy.  I have a gardener who mows my
lawn, but if you will wheel your lawnmower over here every friday, we'll do
'stuff' together while my gardener mows the lawn, and I'll send you home
with a nice crisp twenty dollar bill.  Will you do that for me?"

   She was practically nibbling my ear, now, and the finger had progressed
well beyond the tatters of my shorts-leg to scratch gently at the outside
of my briefs and send shivers up my spine.

   I could barely catch my breath, hardly daring to believe that this
lovely, dangerous woman was actually coming on to me, a thirteen-year-old
virgin!  "Uh, ok, uh, I guess?"

   She pulled her face away from mine, frowning a bit, but her finger
continued to work its magic in my shorts.  "From now on Jimmy, when I ask
you a 'yes or no' question, I'd prefer if you answered 'Yes, Mrs.  Jones'
or 'No, Mrs.  Jones'.  Will you do that for me Jimmy?"

   Her finger had now insinuated itself through the flap of my briefs and
was gently stroking the hard shaft of my teenage cock.  I cleared my
throat, which had suddenly gone dry.  "Uh, Yes, Mrs.  Jones."

   She smiled and leaned forward again, pushing another finger into my
underwear alongside the other.  "That's much better, Jimmy, but next time,
no 'Uh', please?"

   "U...I mean, Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   "We'll work on that.  I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon!"

   She pulled her hand from under my shorts and sat back, with her chest
thrust toward me.  "Do you like my tits, Jimmy?"

   She called 'em 'TITS'!  Not 'breasts', or 'chest', or 'pillows' or
anything else I would expect an adult to call them.  She pushed her tits
out and called them 'TITS!' I was so overcome with her coolness that I
almost forgot to answer.

   "Oh, YES, Mrs.  Jones!" I blurted.

   "Would you like to see them?"

   "OH YES, Mrs.  Jones!" Could this be true?  Was I dreaming?

   She leaned back and reached for the chain she had brought from the hook
by the door.  "I bought this and had it engraved for you the day after I
moved into this house.  I asked one of the other kids to tell me your name,
so I could personalize it just for you."

   She showed me the little metal tag attached to the center of the chain,
on which was engraved 'Jimmy' in an ornate script.  "You see, when I saw
you on the street, I knew you would come to me, and I wanted to be ready
for you.  If you will wear this for me, I will take my top down and let you
see my tits.  Will you do that for me, Jimmy?"

   Without thought, I replied, "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   She leaned forward again.  "You have to take off your shirt to wear
this, Jimmy.  Will you do that for me, too?"

   I was so eager to tear the T-shirt over my head that my "Yes, Mrs. 
Jones!" was a bit redundant.

   Mrs.  Jones cooed "Such a beautiful young man!" as she leaned forward
and licked one of my nipples.  Before I realized what she was doing, she
had slipped the clamp attached to one end of the chain over the wet flesh.
I screamed as she released it and the spring caused it to bite into my
tender nubbin.  My hands started to go to my chest, but Mrs.  Jones
restrained them with a feathery touch.

   "There, now, Jimmy." She sounded like my mom did when I was younger and
got hurt.  "You promised you'd wear this for me, and this is how you wear
it.  You're not going to disappoint me are you?"

   Through tears and gritted teeth, I ground out a tortured, "No, Mrs. 
Jones!"

   She patted me on the shoulder, saying, "That's good, Jimmy, I knew you
wouldn't let me down!"

   She took the other clamp that was dangling from the end of the chain and
squeezed it open.  "Only one more to go, Jimmy, then I'll keep my promise
to you, only I don't want you to scream this time, or try to take it off,
ok?  Will you be strong for me, Jimmy?"

   I stifled my sobs and managed to wrench out a, "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   She leaned over and licked the other nipple, briefly, and somehow I
forgot about the pain in the first one.  When the second clamp bit down, I
grunted, and my belly caved in as though trying to curl up and protect my
chest, but I managed not to disappoint Mrs.  Jones, despite the
excruciating agony stabbing my nipples.

   Eventually, the pain subsided to a bearable ache, and I even managed to
smile at Mrs.  Jones as she studied my face.  She gave me a kiss on the
cheek, then leaned back and reached for the top of her undergarment.

   As she slowly rolled it down, giving me tantalizing glimpses of what I
had gone through all this agony to see, she said, "Each Friday, when you
come to 'mow the lawn', I want you to find your chain on the hook by the
door, and put it on, just this way, with the name showing out.  Will you do
that for me, Jimmy?"

   I was so preoccupied with what she was doing that I didn't really hear
what she was saying.  When I didn't respond right away, she said, "I'll let
you suck them, if you promise to wear your chain each time you come here.
Will you do that, Jimmy?"

   I hesitated only briefly.  The pain had subsided somewhat, and I thought
it would be well worth it.  "Yes, Mrs.  Jones."

   She smiled and opened her arms, pulling me into the canyon between her
soft, pillowy, heavenly tits.  She cuddled me there for a moment before
gently moving my head to her left nipple, cooing "There, baby, suck it for
me!"

   The rubbery tip slid into my mouth as if made for it (oh yeah, huh?) and
I drifted off to another plane as Mrs.  Jones breathed instructions in my
ear.  "Yeah, that's it baby, suck that nipple all the way in.  Now swirl
your tongue around it.  Ooooh yeah, baby!  Now, honey, bite it, just a
little.  That's it!  Now, harder!  OOOOH YES!"

   She gently pulled me off and shifted my mouth to her right breast.  "I
knew when I saw you the day I moved in that I'd have you, Jimmy!  Yes!  Oh,
Yes!  Ummmmm!  I knew you'd be the first in this place to come to me and
make me happy!  Now BITE HARD!  HARDER!  OOOO, YES!"

   She pushed me back into my chair and, lifting her buttocks, quickly
stripped off the lacy undergarment.

   "Now, Jimmy, I want you to do something very special for me.  I want you
to lick my pussy."

   She could have stopped right there.  I would have done it for nothing.
Her trimmed black bush looked so inviting between those luscious thighs,
that I was ready to dive in before she opened her mouth, but she continued,
"If you do a good job of licking my pussy, Jimmy, I'll suck your cock! 
Will you do that for me, Jimmy?  Will you lick my pussy 'til I cum?"

   "Oh, YES Mrs.  Jones!" and I made to dive in, but she stopped me.

   "Get on the floor, please, Jimmy.  Kneel between my legs." She panted,
"That's good, now lean your head down and put your whole mouth right where
my finger's pointing.  That's right, now, lick what's under your tongue,
gently."

   When I did, I felt a round little button that quickly slipped away as my
tongue traveled upward to caress a long, smooth ridge of flesh between two
softer ridges.  "There baby!  That little button, that's my clit, and that
thing you just licked, that's it's sheath.  Concentrate on the clit with
soft, gentle strokes, but now and then give a good firm lick to sheath. 
Ummmm, like that!  Oh, Jimmy, you're a natural!"

   Her hips rocked slowly against my face as I concentrated on her body's
reaction to what I was doing.  I soon found a pattern that had her grinding
forcefully against my face.  Her scent was mesmerizing.  She had apparently
just showered, so there was a fresh, sweet scent that hung around the edges
of the growing musk of her arousal.  Her flavor was sweet and a little
salty, with hints of things I'd never tasted before and my head spun as I
basked in the depravity of licking her honeypot.

   "Oh, baby!  You are good!  Now, take the middle finger of your right
hand, and slowly work it inside my pussy, honey.  That's right, turn it as
you go, and keep it wet.  Now!  Stop.  Turn your palm up, and press your
finger against the top of my tunnel.  Feel that little rough spot?  That's
my G-spot, baby.  I want you to stroke just that spot gently as you work my
clit with your tongue."

   I had forgotten my ministrations to her clit while following her
instructions, and hastily went back to work, trying to keep my finger and
tongue moving in concert.  Soon, her hips were snapping up and down so hard
it was impossible to be gentle.  In fact it seemed as though she was TRYING
to slam her clit against my teeth.  Acting on a hunch, the next time the
little bud came near enough, I bit down on it, not too hard.  She was
unprepared and jerked her hips backward, scraping the nubbin of flesh
between my teeth.

   "Oh you nasty boy!  Do that again!" this time she held still long enough
for me to get a good grip on her clit with my teeth.  I took the
opportunity to slip my ring finger into her alongside the other, caressing
the designated spot with the pads of both.

   Her hips started vibrating back and forth, stretching and relaxing the
tag of sensitive flesh between my teeth, while she screeched and moaned,
her whole body convulsing around my fingers.  I was alarmed at her reaction
and lifted my head long enough to ask, "Are you all right, Mrs.  Jones?"

   She slammed my head back down, shouting, "Don't you DARE stop, you
wonderful, silly boy!  I'm fantastic!  Keep going!"

   I reclaimed my grip on her clit, and since she seemed to be tiring, I
started shaking my head like a dog playing tug of war, and added a third
finger to her soaking passage.  Mrs.  Jones shrieked like a banshee and
went totally rigid from the tips of her stilleto heels to the top of her
head, which was drawn back by her spasming neck muscles.  Her internal
muscles clamped down on my fingers so hard I thought they had broken, then
she went totally limp, feebly pushing at my head to get it away from her
over-sensitive clit.

   I rocked back on my heels, gently removed my fingers from her pussy, to
her accompanying shuddder and moan, and sat back on my chair, hoping I
hadn't injured her.

   "Where did you learn to do that, boy?" she stared at me as though seeing
me for the first time.

   "I-I don't know, Mrs.  Jones!" I stuttered "I just tried to do what made
you feel good.  After a while it seemed like your body was telling me what
it wanted, and I couldn't disappoint you!  Did I do wrong!?"

   She smiled dreamily, "No, Jimmy, you did exactly right!  More than
right! In fact, you did so well, that I'm going to give you a special
treat. I promised that I'd suck your dick if you made me cum, and I'll do
that, but afterward, how would you like to fuck me?  Would you like that,
Jimmy?"

   I couldn't believe my luck!  "You mean it, Mrs.  Jones?!"

   Her frown burst my bubble in a hurry, and she said sadly, "Don't you
believe me, Jimmy?  If you're going to be 'mowing my lawn' on Fridays,
you're going to have to learn to trust me.  If I tell you I'm going to do
something, Jimmy, I'm going to do it, and it disappoints me when someone
questions that."

   "Oh, no, um I, mean yes, uh I mean..." I stammered in consternation,
"it's just, um that I couldn't believe, uh, my, uh, you know, that, um, a,
uh, beautiful woman, like, uh, you, would, uhm, you know, um, uh, want to,
like, you know, uh do, uh - THAT, uh with, uh, me!"

   She smiled again and the sun came out from behind the clouds.  "Well,
Jimmy, in the future, I would appreciate it if you would remember that I
don't make promises I don't mean to keep.  I will let you fuck me, but then
I need you to do something more for me.  I want you, after you have fucked
me, to let me fuck you.  Will you do that for me, Jimmy?"

   I had no idea how she was going to fuck me, but I didn't care, the
vision of my adolescent loins plunging my rampant cock into that hot,
sweet, tunnel clouded my thinking, and I automatically replied, "Yes, Mrs.
Jones!"

   She smiled and stood, in all her naked glory, her breasts sitting high
and proud, without support, still wearing those improbably high heels that
did such wonderful things for the shape of her calf muscles.  Taking my
hand, she led me up the stairs and into the strangest room I had ever seen.
There were various bed- and bench-like pieces of furniture, several
cabinets around the wall, and some fixtures and furniture whose uses my
inexperienced mind couldn't fathom.  Now, I know that some of you are
looking around the picture I'm painting for you, seeking the restraints -
the ropes, chains, shackles, and cuffs that normally occupy such rooms, but
you won't find them here, nor any whips, straps, or canes.  That was not
Mrs.  Jones' style - she didn't need them.

   Leading me to a strange looking chair, she gently pushed me into it, and
when I sat - or, rather, reclined - in its concave interior, she pulled off
my shorts and briefs, leaving my dripping shaft to slap against my lower
belly.

   "Oooooh, nice dick, Jimmy!" she cooed.  I'm bigger than anyone else in
my gym class, and they tease me about it, but I can tell they're just
jealous, so I don't say anything.

   Mrs.  Jones then raised each of my legs in turn and settled them, knees
bent, into grooves in the chair 'arms' that seemed made for the purpose.

   She knelt on the padded floor between my legs and reached for a small
jar tucked away in a convenient recess near the base of the chair. 
Smiling, she scooped some of the clear, sweet smelling goop out of the jar
with the middle finger of one hand.

   "This will make you feel really good while I'm blowing you, Jimmy."

   Then, to my consternation, she took that long, perfectly manicured
finger, covered in slimy goo, and stuck it right up my cringing butt, all
the way to her palm in one long plunge!

   Noting my discomfort, Mrs.  Jones said, "You'll get used to it, Jimmy,
then it will feel really good!  Relax for me, ok, Jimmy?"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones." I grunted, trying to do as she asked, when her
finger found a place inside my ass, that when she pressed against it,
turned my steel-hard dick into tungsten carbide!

   She smiled at my reaction, "That's better now, isn't it, Jimmy?"

   I nodded distractedly, "Yes, Mrs.  Jones."

   Mrs.  Jones leaned over, and parting those evil ruby lips, extended her
pointed pink tongue.  With practiced nonchalance, she ran that warm, wet
organ up my scrotum and shaft, lingering for a moment at the edge of my
glans and vibrating just the tip back and forth as the stripe of saliva she
left behind cooled.

   "This," she wiggled the impaling finger inside me, "is where I'm going
to fuck you after you've fucked me.  You'll like that, won't you baby?"

   I was not at all sure I would, but I was NOT going to disappoint Mrs. 
Jones, so I replied, "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   "I know you will, baby, but first, I want you to enjoy - this!" With
that she took the head of my cock between her scarlet lips and slowly,
excruciatingly slowly, she nibbled, licked, bobbed, and sucked her way all
the way to the bottom of my rigid shaft, embedding the purple mushroom of
my head deep in her throat.

   I almost came right there, but with her unoccupied hand, she pinched off
the base of my shaft, raised her head, and said "Don't cum yet, baby! 
There's lots more for you to experience!  Will you hold off for me until I
tell you to come, Jimmy?  Do that for Mrs.  Jones, baby?"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!" I croaked through my parched throat.

   For twenty minutes, she licked, sucked, prodded, poked, bit, and
tortured my diamond hard spear and now-willing ass.  She now had three
fingers inside me, and I was eager for more.

   Finally, she started vigorously shafting me with those long, slender
fingers and whispered, "Now, baby!  Come for Mrs.  Jones, now, ok Jimmy?"

   "YES, MRS.  JONES!" I shouted, as she once again took my abused cock all
the way into her throat, and started a low moaning sound that vibrated the
head and shaft of my cock until I saw stars.  I must have jetted gallons of
cum into her eagerly swallowing mouth as my guts turned inside-out through
the end of my dick, and my asshole clenched tightly around her fingers,
doing its damnedest to suck her whole hand in.

   Panting, gasping for breath, I shuddered through a series of diminishing
ejaculations until there just wasn't any more to spill.  Mrs.  Jones slowly
removed her mouth from my still-hard shaft, looking me in the eye and
licking those red, red lips to get every bit of my cum.

   "So delicious, baby!" she murmured as she slowy withdrew her fingers
from my gaping butt.  Reaching into another recess, she withdrew a conical,
flesh colored, plastic device that tapered from its narrow tip to a broad
bulge before squeezing abruptly in again, just above the flat, flared base.

   Mrs.  Jones coated the device with more of the goop she'd used on her
fingers, saying, "This will keep you ready for me, and make you feel even
better while you fuck me!  Will you keep this in your ass for me, Jimmy?"

   I nodded, almost forgetting the formulaic answer, then quickly, before
the frown could cloud her beautiful face, "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   "I knew I could count on you, Jimmy." she smiled as she inserted the tip
into my relaxed rectal opening.  I hadn't realized how much wider the bulge
was than her fingers, and grunted in pain as she forced it through my anus
to lock into place deep in my spasming ass.

   She wiped her hands on a terry towel that hung from the chair, then
helped me stand, the fullness in my ass causing me to walk pigeon toed to a
small cot, from the middle of which protuded a pair of stirrups like those
in the doctor's examining room.

   As gracefully as she did everything else, Mrs.  Jones sat on the end of
the cot, then, in a practiced movement, slid backward as she reclined, so
that her head was near the end of the cot.

   "Come and get it, Jimmy!" she purred, as she settled her still shod feet
into the stirrups beside the table, leaving her glistening wet pussy open
and available for my fully recuperated cock.

   I scrambled onto the pad between her raised feet as quickly as the plug
in my ass would let me, and, as I made ready to plunge in, I felt her soft
palms against my chest.

   "Go slowly at first, Jimmy, ok?  Take your time and savor the feeling of
our first fuck, will you do that for me, baby?" those violet eyes
captivated mine, and once again, I was powerless to refuse.

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones."

   I positioned my turgid member at the entrance to her pussy, which seemed
to flower open in welcome.  As I slowly, ever so slowly, allowed the
engorged head of my dick to penetrate between the slippery lips I was
almost overcome with the enormity of the good fortune that allowed me to
enjoy my first fuck between the sleek thighs of this exquisite, evil being.

   By the time my sparse pubic hair mingled with hers, I was a goner. 
There was no where else in the world that I would ever want to be.  This
was where I belonged.  I could feel the pulse of her heartbeat against the
sensitive flesh of my penis, as the velvety walls of her vagina enfolded
me.

   I was lost in a landscape of wonderful new feelings, my emotions running
the gamut from heart stopping fear to unimaginable joy, as our sexes joined
in the most delicious kaleidoscope of ecstatic sensations one could
possibly experience.  Here I was, thirteen-year-old Jimmy Nash, nothing
special to anyone but me, having won the ultimate prize for any horny
teenager!  Only the pressure of the plug in my ass kept me from believing
it was a dream.

   I felt Mrs.  Jones elegant hands caressing my butt, urging me to go
faster.  How could I refuse?

   Gradually, under her gentle guidance, I increased my pace, occasionally
swiveling my hips from side to side in response to slight pressures from
her hands.  Soon, she had me pistoning in and out at a machine-gun pace,
and we were both moaning our passion, but through it all, I heard her
whispered admonition, "Wait for my signal.  I'll tell you when to cum! 
Will you do that for me, baby?"

   If my mother had called me baby, I would have sulked for days, but from
this woman, it was the finest of honors.  "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   When I thought I could get no faster nor rise any higher, she grabbed
the base of the plastic plug in my ass, and rotated it in time with my
thrusts.  "Cum now, baby!  Mrs.  Jones is ready for your cum!  Will you
give it to me, baby?"

   "YES, AAARGH, MRS.  JONES!" I slammed into her with as much force as my
thirteen year old body could muster, once, twice, three times - trying my
best to get as far inside her clinging wetness as I could, before blasting
load after load deep inside her.

   Mrs.  Jones, shuddered and moaned and I got warm all over in the midst
of my climax, as I realized that she too was cumming.

   A few minutes later, as we regained our strength, she pushed gently at
my chest, murmuring, "That was wonderful, Jimmy!  Now, there's just one
more thing we need to do before you go home today."

   I extricated myself from her clasping nether lips, and awkwardly
dismounted the cot, the plug in my butt still causing problems.

   Still the picture of grace and beauty, Mrs.  Jones slipped off the cot
and led me to a padded piece of furniture that looked vaguely like
something I had seen once when I went to church with a Catholic friend. 
Pushing down on my shoulders, Mrs.  Jones had me kneel on the low step,
then bent me forward over the pad that came to just below my waist.  Her
soft hands guided my arms to extend along the rests on the other side of
the waist pad and grip the handles I found there.  I felt exposed and
vulnerable as I knelt there, dick hanging down one side of the waist pad,
chained nipples hanging over the other, while my hands extended above my
head, holding on for dear life.

   I felt soft, warm breasts flatten against my back, briefly.  As she
leaned over to whisper in my ear.  "This will be a strange new experience
for you, Jimmy, but you will come to love it, I'm sure.  I know you won't
disappoint me.  You've done so well, so far!  Promise me you'll do your
best to enjoy your fucking, Jimmy, ok?  It will mean so much to me!"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!" I mumbled through my fear.

   I heard noises behind me and turned to look.  Mrs.  Jones was in the
process of inserting one end of what looked like an artificial dick with
two separate shafts, into herself.  She then fastened it in place with some
kind of harness, leaving the other shaft sticking obscenely out of her
crotch, for all world like she had just grown a large cock.  I started
trembling uncontrollably as she smeared some more of the goop on her
artificial phallus and advanced on my unprotected ass.

   When she grasped the base of the plug and pulled it from my butt, I
began to realize why she had left it in there.  I could only hope it would
be enough, as she nestled what felt like a bowling ball into the pucker of
my anus.  "Take a deep, breath, Jimmy, and push out hard, like you're going
number two.  Can you do that for me, baby?"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones." I did as she asked, and to my amazement, the bulbous
end of the plastic dick slipped right in, with only a brief flash of pain.

   "Keep pushing, Jimmy, there's more to go.  Can you push some more for
me, dear?"

   I pushed.  "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   I felt the long, smooth shaft sliding deep inside me.  It hit some kind
of barrier, and I thought that was as far as it would go.  No such luck! 
She pushed harder, I pushed harder, and with a rush, the barrier opened,
allowing the rest of the phallus to slide achingly into my quivering
rectum.

   I grunted, more from surprise than from pain, though somewhere deep
inside me, something ached as though I'd been punched.  I felt her long
black hair caressing my shoulders as her breasts once again flattened on my
back.  Those ruby lips grasped my ear lobe, and her impossibly white teeth
nipped at it, sending shivers up and down my spine.

   "I'm all the way inside you now, baby!  Thank you for accepting me so
deep in your butt!  You make me SO happy!  I'm going to start fucking you
soon, Jimmy, and I want you to relax and really enjoy it!  Will you do that
for me, baby?"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones." I croaked, and magically, the ache inside me turned
to something else, not quite pleasure, but a comfortable, full feeling.

   I couldn't believe it, but as she pulled back, I groaned in
disappointment, feeling empty and abandoned.  Then, she pushed back in, and
I could feel the tip as it passed my inner barrier and rearranged my guts,
sending bolts of electricity through me.  She started pumping me, faster
and faster, and soon, I was returning her thrusts - humping against her as
eagerly as she was humping me.

   Turning my head to the side, I saw our reflection in a mirror built into
one wall of the room, my skinny, gangly thirteen year old form with a
raging hardon dangling from my crotch, while a beautiful, black haired,
ruby lipped witch obscenely fucked my willing ass.  I was shocked and
enormously aroused to realize that was me in the mirror, and more
importantly, that the figure whose tits were mashed against my shoulder
blades was HER!

   Suddenly, she grabbed the chain between my nipples and started yanking
it, reawakening the pain that had been hibernating as a dull ache, as she
plunged deep in my bowels and rotated her hips, grinding against my ass and
causing the tip of the artificial dick to stir my guts.  She shrieked
deafeningly in my ear, "COME FOR ME, BABY!  COME FOR MRS.  JONES!  PLEASE
COME FOR ME?!"

   "YES, MRS.JONES!" I shouted back, rocking my prostate against the
gyrating shaft of the plastic dick, and exploding geysers of thick white
cum onto the cushions of the waist pad.

   My goddess rested, panting, on my back for several minutes, her
involuntary shudders, magnified by the shaft in my guts, causing
sympathetic spasms in my own body.

   As if in slow motion, she straightened, and with infinite care, as if
afraid I would break, she extracted the phallus from my twitching bottom.

   "Wait here, baby, and I'll clean you up.  Will you do that for me,
dear?" she asked, softly.

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones."

   She disappeared through a doorway, and I heard water running.  A few
minutes later, she returned and my distended ass welcomed the warm, wet
washcloth she used to wipe the lube from around and partway inside it.  She
turned the cloth several times to clean me thoroughly, and when she was
satisfied, kissed me on one buttock, saying, "Ok, Jimmy, you can get
dressed now.  You can remove your chain and hang it on the hook by the door
on your way out, so it will be ready for you when you come back on Friday.
You will come back Friday, won't you, baby?"

   "Yes, Mrs.  Jones!"

   She smiled and after I threw on my briefs, shorts, and t-shirt, saw me
to the door, still wearing nothing but her heels.  I carefully hung the
silver chain on its hook, wondering idly what the other hooks were for.

   As I pushed the lawnmower back up the block to my house, reliving every
wonderful, terrible moment of my visit, I wondered what the hell I had
gotten myself into, but it never occurred to me not to go back.  Mrs. 
Jones would have been disappointed.