Ah, Lynda. Lynda, Lynda, Lynda, you and those long, luscious legs of yours should have been registered as lethal weapons. Point in hand, so should the rest of your outstanding body. From the smoothness of your skin to that inviting smile, those mountainous breasts that so many would love to clamber over, to those mischievous, yet mysterious, eyes.

As far as I could tell, Lynda was perhaps one of the original internet models, predating the likes of Only Fans by, well, who really cares now? This was quite a few years ago now, ten or more if I recall, and names have been changed to protect the incredibly guilty. Suffice to say, Lynda was a queen of glamour making her money by enticing men to join her website full of pictures of herself in various expensive outfits.

There was always a theme of being well dressed, as if she was off to work in a high end bank where the walls were no doubt covered in expensive dark wood panels where grandfather clocks could be heard ticking the seconds away. And that was just her casual wear. Other shots would have this beautiful goddess of a thirty something in outfits clearly meant for a fancy day out sipping champagne at the races, and probably stealing a lot of attention from the husbands of more conservatively dressed, jealous wives.

Other sets she wore less, exposing her lingerie to some degree, often in what appeared to be in expensive hotels, private residences, stately homes and what might have been the houses of parliament! The photoshoots would get more and more revealing, going from teasing to flashing, from stripping to dancing. She'd even post videos of herself dancing slowly in whatever outfit she had chosen, always something tight yet loose enough to let her grind her body slowly against the air as if were the form of an invisible lover.

And of course there was the obligatory sex video, everything from obligatory blowjobs, to tit fucking, to being spanked and her skirt (often leather) hoisted right up over her hips while some lucky bastard got to slide into her pussy, doggy style and make her moan and growl like a dog in heat! And she always took a hot load of cum in whatever hole was fucked.

Suffice to say, there was always a good reason to cum back to Lynda's site.

Then it got even better.

She started running a lottery for one lucky fan to spend a day with her. Tickets were a mere £1000 a head.

Are you hearing alarm bells already? I certainly was. £1000 is still a fair amount of money to spend on anything, even in an economic crisis. Especially in an economic crisis. But this was years ago and at the time, things seemed... a bit more stable in certain regards.

The prize was to spend a day at Lynda's home, from 10am till 10pm. She would dress for the occasion as per the winner's own request of what she had available in her wardrobe, and we would be treated to a tour of her home, including her wardrobe.

Reading between the lines I had to wonder just how many winners there might be in this lottery of hers, it was supposedly run once a month with payment made via her site, but could there perhaps be more frequent 'winners' I wondered? Could she entertain a different winner each day for however long she could get away with it? Assuming she took the weekends off at least, she'd be looking at around £20,000 a month in extra income!

Or was it just a case of Lynda finding a genius way to part numerous fools from their money and not have to do anything at all with any of us?

Still, as pricey as it was, it seemed to be the best way to at least get to meet her in person. I made my decision and a week later, I got an email advising me I had won, but owing to Lynda's busy schedule she only had one free day coming up the very next week. It also stated for legal reasons I needed to sign a waiver and NDA to never discuss the win or the events of the day. A bit odd I thought, but it did almost confirm some of my suspicions, and I sent off my agreement.

The glorious day came, I pulled into the large driveway and parked near a sporty, dark blue convertible, its plates were only a couple of years old, and took in the surroundings. The house was large, a mix of modern styles with some village sheek to it. It might have been an older building with some conversions and upgrades, or a new build with faux aged parts added on. I didn't get much chance to admire it longer as the front door almost immediately opened and out stepped Lynda.

She was dressed to impress indeed. As requested she wore a short, form fitting leather skirt that stopped about two inches above her knees, while she wore a navy blue blazer, buttoned up with no hint of anything on underneath allowing a fantastic view, even from this distance, of her cleavage which could have caused car crashes if she'd went hitchhiking. Her slender legs were made to order, dark shiny stockings covered with an additional layer of fishnet stockings on top. Her hair looked freshly pampered, almost certainly dyed a few days ago given how brightly her peroxide blonde curls caught the sun, and she looked at me through the narrow reading glasses I had also requested her to wear.

She was made to measure in every way I had requested. At least that I could see on the outside, bar her wedding ring which understandably she was never going to remove. She wore high heels of her own choice, the one thing I had told her to surprise me with, but these were only a couple of inches. That said she was a tall woman, at 5 '10 even in flat shoes she seemed to have longer legs then most women I've met who were taller then Lynda. She looked a little older in person then she did in her pictures. She'd been somewhere in her thirties when she'd started, and that had been at least ten years before this meeting. But she still looked like one of the most beautiful women that had ever graced the earth with so much as a blink of her eyes.

"Good morning," she cheerily welcomed me as I made my approach. "How did you find it? Easily enough?"

"The sat nav played some games," I smiled back. "But it still got me here on time." No sooner was I at her door than she stepped down and planted a light kiss on my cheek, it was enough to make me feel the sparks of desire even stronger.

God, I was actually going to do it!

With her!

With Lynda!

In her own house!

"So, where would you like to begin?" she asked as we stepped through her porch and inside the main home. The insides were massive, as if someone had hollowed out the house to make a statement. As I craned my neck to take it all in I could see hints of there having once been a floor above us, but now there was a large, expensive looking chandelier above us, topped off with God only knew how many tiny little light bulbs. Replacing them all must have been a chore.

"I see you've had some work done on the place," I said, glancing back to Lynda who smiled back, apparently appreciating my observation. "It looks lovely," I added.

"Hmm, it does feel good to be looking up at that when I'm relaxing," she said as she locked the front door, leaving the key in. "Would you like to see the kitchen?"

"Why not?" She led me to a narrow archway. It could have had a door installed if she'd wanted it, but it would have only made it harder to get through. As Lynda went first, her arms almost touched the sides, but I got to admire the sway of her hips and the way she crossed her legs like a catwalk model as she made her way towards the kitchen.

"What one word would you give this kitchen if you had to describe it?" It looked like it belonged in the countryside, maybe a hundred years or so ago. There were light brown cupboards with dark black marble tops all along the outsides, with a sturdy looking table in the middle. It was scarred from decades of use. But I recognised it from some of her shoots and one of her videos. It was an exceptionally sturdy table.

"Rustic," I concluded, patting the table top. She smiled again.

"You know, you are the only person I've had in here who's said that," she said, perching her bottom lightly against the table top, her long legs wrapped over one another as she crossed her arms, forcing her substantial cleavage more into prominent view.

"What do they normally say?" I asked, regaining eye contact.

"They utterly forget I asked for a one word answer and say something about testing the table."

"Did they get to test it?"

"Oh yes," and with that she uncrossed her legs, hitched up her skirt over her hips, smiling all the way and gave me an inviting wink. "Go on, be a dear."

Needing no further encouragement, I pushed the back of my hands along the insides of her knees and pushed her double layered stocking clad legs wider apart, taking a good look at the tempting treat of a target before me. Crotchless panties, always a winner. These were a lacey black number that were so see through I could see she had waxed her pussy hairs off. Bald cunt is the best cunt to my mind, it looks so extra naughty and almost always tastes like champagne!

Lynda moaned as I pursed my lips and blew cold air over her most private area, then I planted a little kiss on those sweet lips and teased her with a small barrage of kisses all over her pussy lips. My fingers pulled at the gap in her panties a little more before I started plunging my tongue inside her, really getting a good taste of her before I started sucking away at her pussy lips as if I were a vacuum cleaner.

Quite literally a wet/dry vax. She just kept getting wetter no matter how much I sucked or licked at her lips. I tried an old trick of mine an old FWB taught me worked on her, and I sucked Lynda's lovely clit free from its hood, then lightly trapped it with my teeth and started the delicate job of gently nibbling at it.

"BASTARD!" Lynda yelled in shock, it sounded like her head had dropped behind her body. A second later, I felt her juices squirt all over my face while Lynda's body went into a wild spasm akin to an exorcism! She just screamed as she creamed all over me while I kept at it, nibbling at her clit while my hands tried to keep her from rocking and rolling too much. I didn't want to bite the damn thing off after all.

"Jesus! Fuck! Christ! God! Ahhh!" were the only words she made that I could make out before her legs slammed against my head, blocking off most sounds as she squeezed those perfect pins of her in an almost vice-like grip. I'm not sure if that was meant to stop my ministrations or make me keep them up. "Okay, stop, stop, I'm far too sensitive for that now! Please!" Reluctantly, I stopped my gentle biting, but gave her clit a parting, teasing flick of my tongue.

Lynda let go of my head from her near death-grip with her legs. That certainly gave me ideas about other things she might be able to do. I certainly have never witnessed her do anything like that leg trick in her videos. She kept herself upright on the table as I stood up, panting to herself, chest heaving, tempting me to bury my face between those wondrous mounds, but for now, discretion was the better part of debauchery.

"Where did you learn that?" she gasped.

"No one ever tried that with you before?"

"Jesus, no." She looked me up and down. "Did I do that to you?" It was at this point I realised just how much cum she had squirted all over me. It wasn't just my face that was soaked, but my dress shirt and even my trousers were slick with her love juice. "You can't go around like that," she said in genuine shock. I sampled some more of the goods with a finger and licked it off, never once breaking eye contact. Then offered her a taste, which she greedily accepted as if it was a lolly pop.

"Like a taste of yourself?"

"God, I taste good," she smiled, still holding my finger between her lips while her tongue lapped up her juices. "But take your shirt off, and your trousers, I'll get them in the washer and they'll be dry by the end of the evening." She jumped up off the table and looked at her own crotch as she tried to walk. "Well, it looks like my panties are a mess, as much as my cunt is." I had to admit, with her prim and proper accent, the way she said 'cunt' sounded like magic to me. "These are not going to be comfy to walk around in."

"How much do you like those knickers?" I asked.

"These? Well, truth be told, they were a cheap pair. Kind of ruined now if you ask me. I've never came like that before." I ripped them off her, snapping the elastic in two places then dangled them in front of her, bathing in the look of surprise on her face.

"Mine now then, be a nice memento," I smirked as I brought them to my nose for a sniff. "If you have a bag I can put them in it would be appreciated." She looked confused at first, then caught on quickly and pulled open a drawer before passing me a resealable bag.

"That might be a new money maker for me," she almost giggled as she started to adjust her leather skirt back to normal.

"No! Leave that," I insisted as I sealed the bag and put it in my coat pocket. "Skirt back up above your hips."

"But, someone might see," she insisted with a coy smile.

"Only me here, and if someone else can see they can't touch, can they?"

"True," and with that, Lynda pulled her skirt back up, putting her hands on her hips to emphasise her naked, exposed cunt, used, dripping, gleaming, and ready for more. "Now, take off your shirt, young man, now your trousers. Goodness, what a big bulge that is..." An almost guilty look crossed her face. "That's right, you've not had a chance to cum yet, have you?"

"Good things will cum in time," I told her as she looked over my almost naked body. She looked like she wanted to run her hands over my pecs and compliment my gym sessions. She slinked her way over towards me, crossing her legs in her catwalk run manner, then sank to her feet and scooped up my discarded clothes, then walked to her washer in much the same manner. It looked absurdly provocative, watching her walk like that while her skirt was hitched all the way up around her waistline.

As she bent down once more to bundle the load into the machine, I very much wanted to bundle my own load deep inside her very tempting target of a pussy from behind. There was of course one reason I did not. One more stipulation her email had insisted upon.

Condoms.

Of which I had brought some, which were in my trousers. Lynda was of course one step ahead of me as she had already emptied my pockets of their contents, placed them on the jet black countertop and once the machine was roaring away, she looked back at me, and coyly held up the condoms.

"I love a man who's prepared for cumming," she said sweetly.

"I love a woman who can squirt for England!"

"Ha!" she squealed. "I bet you want to take me from behind right now?"

"You read my mind." She tossed me the first condom.

"Put this on, and you can."

I was beside her in a second, my underwear sent flying God only cared to know, my hard cock slapping around in every direction before I grabbed it and slipped the condom on, slapped Lynda on her butt, pushed her down by the small of her back, lined my cock up with the slick entrance to her pussy and just pushed it all in with not a care in the world.

"Ahhh!" Lynda shrieked, grabbing her mouth with her hands to muffle her cries. "Jesus, man, not so-" I pulled out almost all the way then thrust into the hilt, my balls slapping against the side of the bench. "Eager! ahhhh!" I pulled out again and slammed it back in before just pushing it and holding it as far in as I could, as if I thought I might be able to get even deeper than this. Before, when I had made her cum when I'd nibbled her clit, I'd had the aim of making her feel as good as possible. I wasn't quite so concerned about making her cum this time around, as I had a feeling she was going too, no matter what.

"Ohhh!" Lynda moaned as I started making lots of little thrusts inside her, barely pulling out at all before smashing my body into hers. I could barely hear the washing machine over the sound of our bodies slapping against one another and her screams of pained pleasure. Her kitchen had brilliant white tiles all around the walls, almost polished to a perfect reflection, and I could see in her face in those tiles, the look of utter enjoyment.

"Ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh!"

Part of me wondered if she'd like to take it up the arse. I'd never seen any pictures or video of her doing so. It might have been a taboo she wasn't into, but I did recall talking to another fan of hers who had claimed he'd seen a set of her with two men, so who knew what else she might be into?

"Ohhh God that feels bigger!"

Fisting? Again not something I'd seen her do, but that didn't rule it out. I had made a couple of women in my time fisting converts after all. And both fisting and anal were likely to get her to scream the place down even more then she was doing already. Still I did have another idea.

"Ohmfph!" she called out as I pushed in once again, wrapped my arms around her and pulled her free from the washing machine, pounding away at her in the middle of the floor before pushing her back against another cupboard door. Fucked her against that for a few hard seconds, then pulled her away to fuck her free standing in the middle of the kitchen once more. She had stamina, one look at her legs alone would show she worked out and kept in excellent shape, but I could feel her losing the strength in her legs and guessed this kind of frantic fucking wasn't her usual cup of tea.

I looked around for somewhere different to move us to, and saw the patio windows. Still holding onto her with my arms wrapped around her waist, I guided her towards the large windows and pushed her body up flat against them. I realised as I freed my hands that her breasts had freed themselves from their encasement inside her blazer and were now trapped against the glass. Her nipples randomly tracing patterns in their new prison.

"Oh! Cold!" Lynda moaned. "Oh God! What if the neighbours see?" Given the nature of her photos I found it hard to believe she'd hadn't been seen by her neighbours doing something naughty. But I was quite willing to give them a show too. I managed to move my finger in-between her breasts and the glass and started squeezing Lynda's tiny nipples between my fingers, as if they were scissors.

Lynda seemed to have found a second breath, she was now actively pushing against my crotch with her butt, and placing her hands on the patio doorframe for support. It freed her mammoth breasts a little, but ultimately just gave me more leverage to ever more savagely pound away at her amazing pussy.

If I was right about this lottery, Lynda's pussy was far, far tighter than it had any right to be. Maybe this was the proof she was only fucking one 'winner' a month. In fact, she seemed to be getting only tighter and tighter now. So tight it reminded me of the one time I had tried to help an FWB lose her anal virginity, but she got scared and screwed up her rectum when I'd barely popped the purple head past her tight ring.

Somehow, Lynda seemed to be able to do the same with her pussy. I figured she must have one hell of a kegel plan.

"How do you like that?" she uttered, looking back towards me. I gave her lips a quick kiss while I fondled her breasts ever harder.

"I'm loving it, keep doing it."

"Do you love it?" The clenching got harder still. It was more like a hand was inside there, gripping me ever more.

"Yes!"

"I can make you cum like this," and again, more tightness.

"Will you cum too?"

"Put your hand over my pussy." I complied. "Feel that? Feel my juices? I don't always squirt when I cum."

I brought my pussy juice soaked hand to my hand and sniffed it, then made Lynda suck on my fingers while I pounded her so more.

"Okay, make me cum!"

And with that, she did. Whatever she was doing down there, was suddenly increased tenfold, and it felt like an electric shock struck my balls demanding they empty their load at once. I'd lost track of everything, time had no meaning now, but I could hear screaming and moans, both mine and Lynda's and dear God, if the neighbours hadn't been watching before, they must have been now.

Somehow we were still standing, Lynda's hand pressed firmly against the patio doorframe, my fingers seemed embedded in her breasts, my cock still inside her pussy which was slowly letting go of its death grip on my length.

"Fuck.... me..." I muttered.

"Once we've caught our breath," Lynda replied, panting, before she kissed my lips with what little energy she had left, "can you get us back to the kitchen table? I need to lie down." I nodded, and returned my hands to her waist, and we moved, slowly, moving our left legs as if it were one, then our right legs in the same awkward manner before we made it over. Neither of us could think much, which is why my cock stayed inside her till we got to the table.

"Shit..." I whispered once I pulled out and looked down at my somehow still hard, though not rock hard, cock. "The condom..."

"It doesn't matter," Lynda said looking at it. "I'm on the pill." Then she reached for my cock with her hand and pulled me closer to the table so she could suck the cum off it. "You taste pretty decent, most men don't."

"That will be down to the taste of yourself," I nodded, and helped myself to a sample of her freshly fucked, dripping wet cunt; seasoned with my cum it did indeed taste different. I'm not into tasting my own juices, but under the circumstances it did feel like the least I could do.

As we lay side by side, licking and sucking our mixed juices off of one another's privates, Lynda's ministrations certainly got my blood pumping once more. I felt my hard rod getting pumped more and more before her sweet lips wrapped around it and felt her slowly tease me with the lightest touch of her teeth. Not to be outdone, I started to slowly slip my fingers inside her pussy; her juices gave me just enough lube to get four in up to the joint of the hand while my thumb teased her clit.

She seemed rather determined to make the most of what was inside her mouth. Quite soon I felt the tip of my helmet push against her throat and much to my shock, she had the entire thing down her gullet in a heartbeat! Thankfully she seemed to know how to breath with ease through her nose alone, but dear God, the sensations. Well, two can play that game I thought as I pushed my thumb down alongside my palm and slowly eased my entire hand inside her pussy.

"How many fingers can you take?" I asked as she didn't seem to budge with my fist inside her.

"Hmm," she replied, my cock still down her throat, showing no sign of coming out anytime soon. The vibrations from her humming felt amazing,

"Two? Three?"

"Hmmmm," if she kept that up, she'd be swallowing another hot load in seconds.

"Four? And a thumb?"

"Hmm."

"How about a fist?"

There was no hum this time, it sounded more like a laugh of all things. Either way, it did the trick and my latest load of hot baby batter was shooting its way all down her gullet like a dam had broken. Meanwhile, the obstacle of my entire fist being inside her slick pussy seemed to be of little concern to her right now. No sooner had she finished milking my cock with her throat and she had finally released it, then she simply looked at where my wrist was, sat up and grabbed a hold of my wrist and forced it back and forth as if my arm was her own personal dildo, all the while keeping eye contact with and the most provocatively erotic, sly smile I have ever witnessed.

She grunted as she came, leaving a stain on the table, then simply pulled my fist free from her, licked it inquisitively, then jumped to her feet and walked over to the fridge. She pulled out a can of sprite and placed it upside down on the table, climbed back onto the table, then lowered herself down till she was lined up with the can, then simply sat down. The can vanished between the folds of her pussy.

"Ta Da!" she beamed, with a smile so wide it would make the Cheshire Cat chuck in its day job. "That's one way to cool down a hot pussy, eh?"

"Jesus, Lynda, how did you manage to do that?"

"Years of training, my boy, years of training." I looked over at her as she sat on her haunches, a cold can clutched in her cunt, her stockings, both layers streaked on the insides with our juices, the leather skirt barely staying around her waist while her blazer... was doing a fantastic job of keeping her boobs framed in the gap over her chest.

"What are you doing? Oh!" she asked as I pulled at her nipples, before unbuttoning the blazer to let them truly hang free. She actually gave them a shake, and that was enough to have me fling the blazer aside, then grab her by the nipples, giving them both a savage squeeze before I managed to suck them both into my mouth at the same time. Much to my own surprise, she returned the favour by twisting my own nipples in different directions.

My cock was hard again. It almost felt that despite all the cum I'd shot, it had never really gone soft during all the fun. And it only seemed natural to just stick the damn thing between those big, firm funbags, the tip getting so close to her face she kept trying to lick it, kiss it or pretend to try to bite it.

"Does this actually do anything for you?" I asked her as my cock slid between the passage that was her boob tunnel as she lay on her back on the table, holding both her natural wonders around me with her hands. She shook her head, but still looked happy. "What does work best for you? That we've not done already?"

"A good hard fucking, just pull that can out and off you go," she laughed. "I promise, it will feel different."

"Cold?"

"Maybe, one way to find out."

I could see the ring pull, she'd obviously had the sense to put it in upside down, but it was so deep inside, I couldn't see how to get any leverage to pull it out. Then a thought came to mind, we really needed a machine that went BEEP.

"Can you push it out? Push Lynda, like you pushed my hand out. Push like I knocked you up nine months ago."

"Oh dear God!" she laughed, and out it popped. I looked back at her and we just grinned before I slid my hardness back up her, sans condom. Her amazing cunt muscles just contracted around me and held me in place. It was like there was a vacuum pump inside her pussy; I've never known any other woman with such a talent. She wrapped her legs around me, and finally I got to appreciate the sensation of her stockings on my naked skin — I'd been in far too much of a sexual frenzy before to notice. She tightened her grip with her legs and pulled me in with them a little more.

Then an idea came to mind.

"Do you like to take it up the arse at all?"

"It has been known," she admitted after a slight pause. "It's never been my favourite thing to do."

"Oh, that just begs me to ask you what is your favourite thing to do then," I smiled encouragingly, but saw her nod slightly towards the discarded can. "You're kidding me?"

"I always liked, how can I put it? Extreme insertions in my pussy."

"So what's been the most extreme thing you've had stuffed up that magical cunt of yours?"

"Ah, now that would be telling." And then with barely enough time for her to flash that famous smile of hers, she added. "Cucumbers were a modest start, then the cans, I've had some underwear pushed and pulled in and out a few times, a fist or two..." she trailed off, then her eyes lit up and she pushed me gently off her and took me by the cock as she led me back to the living room. "Come with me."

"I thought I already had," I joked as she led me to another similar curved doorway that hid the staircase, all the while lightly tugging my rod as we ascended the staircase. At this point I had no sense of geography. The kitchen was clearly on the other side of the house, the voluminous living room between that and our location on the landing, but as my eyes alternated between watching her hand rubbing my cock and the way the muscles in her legs moved as she walked, I'd lost all track of where we were.

She opened up what seemed to be a random door to what looked like a small bedroom, probably meant for guests, be they ones that were staying for a night or more, or a lottery winner. I noticed how her free hand playfully tapped one of the large, round bed knobs... She wasn't going to? Was she?

She smiled at me, let go of my cock, and mounted the bed, squatting over one of the bed knobs, rubbing it with her pussy lips before slowly easing herself down on it, never once breaking her eye contact with me as I felt my jaw threaten to slam itself off the floor and bounce back into my skull.

"Jesus, Lynda..." I trailed off as I saw the bed knob slip inside her pussy, out of sight, but clearly on her mind. She gave a muffled cry of pain as she decided to twist around so her rear was now facing me, her arsehole on full display while part of the bed knob inside her pussy occasionally showed it as she rocked back and forth.

"Bet you've never seen that before," she grinned, looking at my eyes, then down to my somehow harder than ever cock. "You going to put that to good use with me?"

"I think you're a little occupied right now." I staggered over to try to get a better view.

"Go on, I'm as open and free for you as I'll ever be," she purred.

Free? I wondered. Free? Not at £1000 she wasn't, but given I had her to myself for the better part of twelve hours, and I had quite lost track of how long we'd been at it with one another, I decided to be cost effective.

"Do you have any lube?"

"Top drawer," she pointed to a bedside cabinet. I found a large bottle that could have doubled as a dildo in it's own right, and most likely had. I applied some to my cock, some to her hole, then dropped the bottle on the bed, lined my cock up with her tiny little puckered hole, almost hidden by her sculptured arse cheeks. I pressed against it, looked upwards and said a prayer of thanks, and pushed in.

I was utterly surprised at how one gentle push had allowed me to somehow get myself balls deep in Lynda's perfect arse! It was as if there were no resistance at all, as if Lynda was just equally skilled in relaxing her arsehole as she was at clenching her cunt up.

However for Lynda, it clearly wasn't quite the same ease of passage sensation she'd had.

"Owww!" she wailed as I bottomed out. "Oh God! Did you have to go in so fast?"

"I'm sorry, it just slipped in," I softly whispered in her ear.

"It's okay, just stay put for now." I could feel the obstruction of the bed knob through the walls of her body, it was like a quiet next door neighbour you'd never spoken to and rarely saw, but knew was there. "Okay, just pull out a little, not all the way, just slowly," she instructed. As I pulled out, I could only see the gleam of the lube coating my cock, while her rectum kept tightly closed around my shaft.

I was glad to see there was no blood. That was my worst fear. Injuring Lynda, or any other lover, was not something I wanted to ever do. Her breathing was a bit more normal now, but her brow was sweaty and I could see her makeup was starting to run a little. It must have been very good makeup to have survived the wildness of the fucking we'd gotten up to already.

"Okay, slide it back in, slowly now," she said, actually gritting her teeth and then biting her lower lip a little as I slowly worked more of my manhood into her backdoor. "Ack, I'm sorry, I can't handle you and this bed knob at the same time. It's too much."

"Here, give me your hands, I'll help you up."

"Thank you, just let me lie on the bed, then you can put that cock of yours back inside my arse again."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it was just the bed knob, that was too much for this old girl."

"Old? You're not even forty," I smirked at her as I helped her roll onto her back.

"Oh I'm older than that," she admitted.

"Forty-one?"

"Add a few more years."

"Forty-five?"

"Few more."

"Fifty?" I was baffled at this. If she was older then fifty she must have supped from the fountain of youth.

"Fifty-five," she stated matter of factly. I had no idea if she had an inkling I was barely half her age. "Still wanna fuck me?"

"Sure, why not? I've enjoyed every second of it, Lynda."

"And then there's that, I'm not Lynda, not really."

"I kinda figured on that, a lot of models use stage names."

"I'm not really a model, either, at least not a legitimate one."

"Doesn't matter, you look far better than any of them to me anyhow."

"Oh, bless you. Flattery will get you everywhere," and with that she rubbed the top of her stocking covered legs and smiled invitingly. "Want some more pussy, or back in my arse?"

"I certainly want back in that arse of yours."

"I'll just roll over onto-"

"No, don't. Stay on your back."

"What? No one does it like that."

"What? Never heard of anal missionary?"

"Ha! Oh my, oh ho, ho. That sounds like a very dedicated Christian to me."

"Converts all the non-believers, every time."

"Hallelujah!" she jokingly chanted before spreading her legs as I took my place between them. "Peace be with me."

"Meanwhile, I'll just settle for a piece of your arse!" And in a repeat of my previous successful rear entry, I thrusted inside her tiny little brown starfish in one go, and got to see the wonders of the shocked expression on her gorgeous face. Her eyes couldn't settle between fighting themselves shut and being little slits as if she was squinting at the sun, to be almost bug eyed wide while her mouth did much the same, making her look a little like a starving goldfish.

"Ack! Fuck Me!" she uttered and kept making throaty noises of delight, almost cooing like a dove when I really hit the right spot, eventually she started bucking her hips in enjoyment, matching my rhythm perfectly. I grabbed the lube bottle when I noticed it bounce near us, poured a dollop of it out over her heaving breasts, oiling them up so they shone like globes and was tempted to place the bottle in her mouth for some odd reason.

"Fuck me! Fuck me!" she chanted, her eyes rolling backwards inside her head as I considered my options. Instead of giving her something really solid to suck on, I looked down towards our crotches, enjoying the view of my cock pistoning in and out of her arse with almost mechanical precision, and decided to introduce the dildo like bottle to her pussy instead.

"Oh you naughty bugger, you," she almost growled in a primeval, bestial way. "Buggering me, sodomising me and still trying to find more ways to fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK ME!"

This time around I could tell how long we went at it like this courtesy of the bedside alarm clock. It was half an hour of me humping away at her, hearing her chesty moans and groans as I tried to ruin her back passage before I left the comfort of her rectum and watched my cum leak out of it. Her hips had come with me as I'd pulled up and away, and once I was freed, they hovered there briefly, before gravity came back into play. She crashed out on the messed up bedspread, random muscles twitching in different parts of her toned body, panting as if she'd run a marathon.

I was in a similar enough state, and when I felt I could no longer support myself resting on my arms, I collapsed on top of the most wonderful boobs I could ever hope to use as a pillow. Her deep breaths made my head slowly rise up, and I playfully tried to latch onto the nipple of the other breast, more for the sheer hell of it at this point.

Meanwhile, Lynda, or whatever her name really was, was just spread out, arms either side of her, listening to the suckling noises as I tried to see if I could get more of her nipple inside my mouth. I had no such luck, but I was enjoying the attempt.

After an hour of rest, we tore ourselves apart, took a break for the toilet each, and Lynda considered a change of clothes. I told her not to bother, I didn't want to ruin any other outfits. I don't think she was quite prepared for how much stamina I had, but in fairness, I worshipped the ground she walked on. She was a goddess in human form to me and as such, I wanted to make as much use of our time together as we could.

And we did. It was probably the single most sexually charged day of my life to that point. I didn't get to see if we could pack anymore fudge that day, but we did manage to go through most of her fridge's fruit and veg drawer.

As I noted earlier, this was many years ago when I met her and spent the day with her. Sadly, I got word from a fellow fan that she had passed away a couple of years ago. But what with her string of false identities, and the sheer amount of money she must have made from her members only site and her 'lottery' who could tell for sure if that was the death of the real woman, or just another identity put to rest?

I made a point of driving past her house last year when I got the news and saw it was up for sale, and for the sheer hell of it did so again last week. There was no more for sale sign, and the same, expensive sports car still sat in the driveway.