I may have been eighteen and of stout health, but I almost had a heart attack.

My father was standing in the hall, holding his hand over the telephone’s mouthpiece. “It’s Harry Cathcart,” he said. “You remember we went round and helped him out with some DIY a month or two back?”

I remembered. Of more recent memory was going round to Mrs Craddock’s for some fun and games, only to discover that Mrs Cathcart was there too, and very free and easy with her favours. If Mr Cathcart had got wind of what had gone on that evening, I’d be in deep shit. “Yes,” I said nervously, expecting all hell to break loose at any moment. “I remember.”

“It seems Harry needs some more help,” my father said. “Only, since I’ve put my back out…”

It took a moment for my fearful mind to realise what my father was intimating. It took a few more moments for me to work out that while going over to the Cathcarts’ was a risk, I had no legitimate reason to refuse the request.

Ten minutes later I was on my way to the couple’s house with an ambivalent heart, dressed in an old t-shirt and a pair of frayed and faded jeans. I mean, I was going to be helping out with DIY, after all. On the one hand I hoped Mrs Cathcart was going to be there, because who wouldn’t want to see her again, just to see her? On the other hand, there was always the danger that there would be some sign that we were better acquainted than ought to be the case. I didn’t quite trust myself with my own actions and reactions.

No, perhaps it would be better if Mr Cathcart was home alone, but the idea was also terrifying. What if this DIY lark was just a pretext? What if he wanted a little talk man to man? What if he’d got wind of what had happened and intended to tell me in no uncertain terms what he thought of me screwing his wife? He would have known, after all, that my dad had put his back out. He’d been like that for the past week.

In the event, things were better and worse than I could have imagined. It was Mrs Cathcart who came to the door when I rang the bell. She was dressed in her denim shorts, cut high and tight enough to be more like bikini bottoms than anything. The only other thing she was wearing was a tight top that landed half way between her boobs and her navel. Well, that and her glasses. She may or may not have been wearing knickers, but she was certainly not wearing a bra. She smiled as I just stood there staring at the outline of pointy nipple. The last time I’d seen those tits I’d been spraying my hot cum on them.

“Hello, Darren,” Mrs Cathcart said. “It’s good of you to want to lend a hand.”

I just about stopped myself from blurting out something about how I’d love it if she gave me a hand.

“Harry’s upstairs,” she went on, turning. I followed her, still without a word, but watching her ripe denim bum every step of the way, remembering her on top of me, asking me to spank her, and also remembering Mrs Craddock sticking a finger up her bum. Still, the good news was that Mrs Cathcart would hardly be dressed like this if her husband knew what she and I (and Mrs Craddock) had been up to. The bad news was that Mrs Cathcart’s arse provoked conspicuous swelling as I followed her upstairs. I was at pains to keep one hand in my pocket, to avoid the husband spying the obvious bulge.

“Hello, Darren,” Mr Cathcart said. “It’s good of you to come over.”

Shit. He was holding out his hand, expecting me to shake. What was I supposed to do? Still, he was staring me in the eye, not down there, so I risked it, pulling my hand from my pocket and saying, “Happy to help,” Mr Cathcart.

“Call me Harry,” the man said.

“Well,” Mrs Cathcart said, “I’ll leave you to get on with your man stuff. Call me if you need me.”

Given that I by now could only think of sex where Mrs Cathcart was concerned, this sounded distressingly dirty, though quite why I hesitate to recall. Still, with her gone I could at least concentrate on the job at hand. The room was a mess of bits of wood and power tools. I wasn’t particularly handy, but I could follow instructions, so when Harry said, “I thought we’d start with the skirting,” I agreed readily enough.

The skirting took some time to do, but we knuckled down until we’d done the job. The only interruption came when Mrs Cathcart poked her head round the door and said, “Look at the two of you being all manly!”

It sounded horribly flirtatious. I didn’t dare look at her, hoping that Harry would make nothing of it, or just assume she really only meant him. After all, I harboured no illusions about my own manliness per se, but Harry was definitely the kind of man to whom the epithet might apply. I could easily see why a woman like Mrs Cathcart would find him attractive, given his size, his kind eyes and the dishevelled shock of black hair that gave him an even more rugged appearance. He was the type of man of whom one might say he was secure in his masculinity, and thus pretty much my polar opposite.

When we were finally done with the skirting, Harry said, “Why don’t I go down and fetch us up a couple of Cokes?”

I was hot and sweaty, and this sounded like a very good idea. With Harry off downstairs, I looked out of the window, down on next door, where a woman was busy pruning bushes while her husband trundled a wheelbarrow around. Hearing a noise behind me, I thought Harry had returned, but it was Mrs Cathcart standing in the doorway, posing in a coquettish manner.

“Remember these?” she asked. Then she promptly lifted her top to expose those perky boobs of hers, topped with a generous spread of areolae and erect nipples.

What was the woman doing? If her husband saw, there’d be hell on. But I didn’t want to be impolite either, so I nodded.

“Why so coy?” Mrs Cathcart said, with a little pout. “Don’t you want me anymore, Darren?”

My mouth was horribly dry. I wanted to say I wanted her, but I couldn’t. Not here, not now, not with her husband in the house. “It’s too dangerous,” I managed to croak. “Mr Cathcart… Harry…”

“I want you,” Mrs Cathcart said. Then she giggled in that little way she did. “And I’m not wearing any knickers, Darren.” My head began to swim, but before I could say anything, we both heard Harry’s feet on the stairs. “Just say the word,” Mrs Cathcart breathed, pulling her top back down over her boobs and leaving.

If I’d been hot and sweaty before, I was feverish and saturated now. Still, Harry clearly hadn’t noticed anything, so I calmed down a little, gulping down the drink so fast I got hiccups.

We got back to work, Mrs Cathcart putting in a new appearance after a while without saying anything. Her husband was up a step ladder with his back turned, and that was all that was needed for Mrs Cathcart to take the opportunity to flash her boobs at me again.

I was staring open mouthed as Harry said, “Pass me the screwdriver, would you?” Mrs Cathcart winked at me. Fortunately her husband’s back was still turned, and once I’d handed Harry the requested item, the woman had disappeared.

Having by now been involved with three married women, including Mrs Cathcart, I was fast becoming disabused of any notion that grown-ups took marital fidelity seriously. Nevertheless, for a woman to openly flaunt herself at the risk of her husband noticing, that was totally out there.

I went on aiding Harry to the best of my ability, my head overflowing with incomprehension. Not least I was wondering what Mrs Cathcart saw in me when she was married to what was obviously a very handsome man, who seemed thoroughly decent in every respect. Why would she want to risk her marriage? I had no idea. I just know that suddenly Harry said, “Damn! I forget to bring the aardvark filler up from the shed.”

OK, I know there’s no such thing as aardvark filler, but I forget what it was he’d forgotten, and since this was alien territory to me, it may easily have been something with a similarly outlandish name.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that Harry disappeared to fetch the item in question. I was standing in the room surveying our handiwork when I heard a voice. The first time I thought I was hearing things, but the second time I realised it was Mrs Cathcart calling my name.

I stepped out onto the landing, about to ask where she was, when I heard my name a third time. Mrs Cathcart’s voice was coming from a room with an open door. A couple of steps, and I stopped dead in the doorway. It was the Cathcarts’ bedroom, and Mrs Cathcart was lying stark naked on the bed, legs spread, toying with her pussy. She smiled at me and giggled. “Do you want to give me your screwdriver, Darren?” she asked.

“Sally!” I gasped. “Mrs Cathcart… Mr Cathcart… Harry…” (OK, Harry and Sally. I know, and they got to hear all the jokes a year or so down the line, when the film came out. By then I’d experienced enough of Mrs Cathcart’s real orgasms to be unimpressed by Meg Ryan’s fake one.)

“My cunt needs attention,” Mrs Cathcart said. “I remember your big cock, Darren… How good it felt…”

I didn’t know what to say. I knew what I wanted to say, but all I could think of was that Harry might return at any moment. “Erm, thank you, Mrs Cathcart,” I said. “But Harry…”

Mrs Cathcart just giggled. “Do you want to poke me, Darren? Say you do. Please say you do.”

This was much too risky. I didn’t want to play this game, but I didn’t want to disappoint Mrs Cathcart either. “Of course I want to poke you, Mrs Cathcart.”

There was a new giggle as the woman moved her fingers between her folds. “So I see,” she said, staring straight at my crotch. My anxiety had somehow blocked my own awareness of the swelling that the sight of Mrs Cathcart had produced, and which was very visible to her. “At least show me your cock, Darren. Show me your big hard cock, please!”

I wanted to, of course I did, but now was not the time, surely. “Harry… Mr Cathcart could be here at any moment.”

“Show me your cock, Darren! I need to see it!” When I didn’t react, she added, “We’ll hear when Harry comes in.”

This sounded reasonable enough. Enough at any rate for my fears to diminish somewhat. Hardly believing I was doing it, I unzipped and brought out my throbbing cock.

“Ooh!” Mrs Cathcart exclaimed. “Mmmm!” In an instant she’d rolled off the bed and come up to me, going down on her knees and grabbing my cock. “Mmmm!” she purred again. Then her tongue was dragged along my pole.

“Mrs Cathcart!” I gasped. I had to get her to understand that this was way too dangerous. If Harry caught us like this, the news would travel back to my parents by Concorde and I’d never be let out of the house on my own again, regardless of how old I was.

“I never did tell you how much I love a good facial, did I?” Mrs Cathcart said.

“I want to give you one,” I breathed. “I want to so much. But it’s too…”

Mrs Cathcart popped her lips over my bulb and slurped hungrily. Her tongue did a swirl round my glans before she brought her mouth up and looked up at me with that glorious twinkle in her eye. “What do you want more than anything, right now, Darren? Tell me!”

Say something, anything, I told myself. “I want to cum on your face, Mrs Cathcart.”

“Mmmm! I’d like that too, Darren! Your hot spunk all over my face!” The woman was a lot like Mrs Hotter, it seemed to me, in the way she said such vulgar things in a completely uninhibited fashion. But as I stood there thinking that it was possible right now, Mrs Cathcart moved away, ending up back on her knees, bending over the bed, wiggling her arse. She looked back over her shoulder and winked at me. “But first I want you to screw me rotten!”

What the hell was I supposed to do? I was aching to shove my cock into her, but all the time I could only think of Harry, of the trouble I’d be in if…

“Don’t you want me?” Mrs Cathcart pouted, with a new wiggle of her arse. “Please don’t disappoint me, Darren.”

“Of course I want you, Mrs Cathcart!” I blurted. “I want you more than anything. I want to screw you rotten, like you said, and cum on your face. It’s just…”

“Quick then!” Mrs Cathcart breathed. “Before Harry gets back.”

I didn’t know how to turn her down any more. I moved across the room, holding my stiff cock in my hand, Mrs Cathcart staring back at me, eyes gleaming. I laid a hand on a buttock and she breathed, “You can spank me if you like, Darren!”

And then the sound came, the downstairs door slamming shut. My stomach turned itself inside out as I stuffed my cock back in my trousers and dashed back to the DIY room. Desperately, I tried to bring myself to some state of normality so that Harry wouldn’t notice there was something up. The trouble was, I couldn’t keep Mrs Cathcart out of my head, and had to keep my hands in pockets to conceal my still full erection.

However odd and nervous my behaviour, Harry didn’t seem to notice. It was with a certain amount of relief that I aided the man as he got back down to business. He even allowed me to hammer in a few nails. Fortunately Mrs Cathcart didn’t put it any more appearances, or I may well have crushed a thumb or a finger or two.

After a further hour of work, Harry said, “Well, I think we can call it a day. Why don’t we go downstairs and wind down with a beer each?”

I still wasn’t a big fan of alcoholic beverages, but at that moment any cold drink would have done. I followed Harry down to the kitchen, and we sat there drinking straight out of the bottle, not saying much, just chilling – as people didn’t say back then.

And then, while we were sitting there, I heard Mrs Cathcart from the doorway. “So which of you two fine handymen wants to drill me first?”

I almost leapt out of my skin. I had my back to the door, so I couldn’t see Mrs Cathcart, but I still almost blurted out something along the lines of, ‘But Harry! He’ll catch us!’ In the nick of time I remembered that Harry was actually sitting there at the table. At the time I completely failed to register that he was smiling. Nor could I bring myself to look at Mrs Cathcart. I did, however, hear her heels on the kitchen floor as she came across to the table.

Then she was standing there, leaning over the table, smiling at her husband and myself in turn. She was wearing high heels with hold-ups and a cupless corset, all in matching red. I tried hard not to stare at the fuzz of ginger hair on her mound, or her breasts hanging out, or the wicked grin on her face, the glint of sexual desire behind her glasses.

“Young Darren’s done well today,” Harry was saying. “Why don’t you give him a treat before we get down to the drilling?”

“With pleasure,” Mrs Cathcart giggled.

This was beyond my comprehension. I didn’t know where to look as Mrs Cathcart lowered her body, disappearing under the table. It was impossible to grasp that Harry was alright with this, even though it was patently obvious, and so I couldn’t bring myself to look at him either, at least not until he said, “I know Sally’s been teasing you, Darren. We agreed on it before hand.”

“You did?” I said weakly. Mrs Cathcart was under the table, unzipping me. Instinctively I shifted position, aiding her, even though I still couldn’t get my head round it.

“I know all about your adventures on Monday,” Harry said, winking at me. “Sally told me everything in graphic detail.”

“She did?” I said as Mrs Cathcart brought my cock out into the open and rubbed her thumb over the glans.

Harry smiled at me, swigging from the bottle while Mrs Cathcart’s hand gave a little tug and her soft tongue slithered over the tip of my cock. “Sally and I have a special arrangement,” he said, “in that we’re not exclusive.”

“How do you mean?” I said. I suppose I sort of understood, but I was still very perplexed. Did no adults have an ordinary, monogamous sex life?

“That we can have sex with other people,” Harry said, “as long as we’re open about it.” As he spoke, I felt Mrs Cathcart’s lips close on my throbbing organ and I let out a groan. “Isn’t Sally the best?” Harry said.

“Yes,” I said with a strained voice, though secretly I was thinking that Mrs Hotter was still the best in my book, at least up to now.

“It’s not for everyone,” Harry said. “An arrangement like ours, but it works for us.”

“Are you… sort of… swingers?” I said, using a word I’d picked up from one of my dirty magazines.

“Not exactly,” Harry said. “We just don’t believe in exclusivity.” There was a pause, during which I tried to work this out, but with Mrs Cathcart shoving her lips way down on my cock and drooling all over me, this was very difficult. “Sally especially needs a great deal of action.”

Under the table Sally slurped greedily, as if to confirm what her husband was saying. There was sweet, saliva-coated bliss round my shaft. Then Mrs Cathcart’s lips came off me. “You make it sound like I’m a sex maniac,” she said. She giggled. “Maybe it’s not too far from the truth.” Then her lips went back down on me, her tongue slithering as she began slurping again.

“Isn’t she an expert fellatrix?” Harry asked.

I just about understood what this meant. “Yes,” I agreed breathlessly. “Fucking fantastic!”

Harry smiled at this. “The thing is, Darren,” he said. “That you’re welcome to enjoy yourself with Sally any time you like, whether I’m here or not. She’s taken quite a shine to you.”

I’m sure I looked completely daft with my mouth hanging open, but at the same time Sally was doing her damndest to fit my entire near eight inches in her mouth. I let out a groan of pleasure. It was slowly dawning on me that this was the answer to my prayers. An incredibly hot and uninhibited woman with whom I could enjoy carnal pleasure with her husband’s blessing, secure in the knowledge that we wouldn’t be disturbed by any offspring. I knew very well that the Cathcarts’ only daughter was married and living in Australia.

Thinking it best to be polite, I said, “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”

Mrs Cathcart giggled on my cock, sliding her lips slowly up and off. “Oh he’s not offering me to you out of kindness,” she said. “Harry loves it when I get off with other men, don’t you, Hunk?”

Harry drained his bottle before saying, “Well, I can’t deny it.”

I didn’t know what to say to this.

Everything was a blur. Mrs Cathcart was crawling out from under the table, positioning herself in the middle of the kitchen on her knees. One hand was between her thighs. She moved it, licking her lips as Harry and I looked on. “What are you two handyman waiting for?” she said. “Come over here and shove your big tools in my face!”

Mrs Hotter had spoken to me about far from every woman being as liberated as she was, and my limited experience had indicated as much. However, I was learning the best way possible that while girls my own age could be extremely reticent, more experienced women seemed comfortable demanding what they wanted. I liked that. I liked it very much indeed.

I also liked that when Harry got up and pulled his cock out of his trousers, he was clearly not quite the size I was. It seemed impolite to ask exactly what size he was, especially since conventional wisdom said that size didn’t matter. “Come on, Darren,” Harry said, moving round the table. “When Sally wants something, you don’t keep her waiting.”

Having never shared a woman with another man, I was a bit chary, but this was a learning curve (as we didn’t say back then), and I rose from my seat as Harry prodded his wife under the chin with his cock before dragging the bulb up over her cheek. Soon I was standing next to him, following his lead.

“Mmmm!” Mrs Cathcart purred. “What a luxury! Two randy cocks!”

She grabbed our throbbing members, wanking them, staring at them hungrily. There was a picture like this which I adored in one of my dirty magazines, of a gorgeous blonde holding two cocks pointed at her face, but the reality of Mrs Cathcart was a hundred times better. She popped her husband’s cock into her mouth and gave a brisk suck before treating me to another feel of her lips. She alternated like that a while before leaning back, still holding us. “I want you both in my mouth!” she breathed.

I didn’t understand what she meant, but Harry positioned himself, and I once again mimicked what he was doing. It felt very disconcerting having my dick pushed up against another man’s, but I quickly overcame any hesitancy through the sheer heady perversion of seeing Mrs Cathcart’s mouth stretched over both our bulbs. Harry placed his hand on the back of his wife’s head, pushing her a little further on to us. “If there’s one thing Sally loves,” he said, “it’s being filled right up!”

As if the gleam behind her glasses wasn’t enough to confirm this, Mrs Cathcart moved a hand back down between her thighs, stimulating herself as she worked her tongue against our swollen cocks. There wasn’t much room for movement, but that hardly mattered. The whole scene was so kinky and undreamed of, I could only stand there and marvel at this turn of events.

When Harry at length withdrew his cock, I followed suit, but the man simply said, “If I know my little nympho, she’s hungry for more.”

“You know me too well, Hunk!” Mrs Cathcart exclaimed, her hand moving quickly between her legs.

“Put your hand on the back of her head and feed her your cock,” Harry instructed. “All of it.”

How was it possible to be standing in a man’s kitchen while he asked me to fill his wife’s mouth with my meat? I didn’t know, but nor was it necessary to ponder such things. Not right now. I recalled the times Mrs Hotter had urged me to fuck her mouth. From the way Mrs Cathcart was holding her mouth open and staring at me with greedy eyes, I imagined she felt the same way about these things. Still toying her pussy with her hand, she breathed, “Remember what Hunk said earlier, Darren? When I want something you don’t keep me waiting.”

That settled it. I shoved my cock into Mrs Cathcart’s mouth, reaching the back of her throat before I’d had time to think. If I hadn’t had such an excellent teacher in Mrs Hotter, the reaction would surely have alarmed me. Instead, I calmly allowed Mrs Cathcart to cough and splutter before guiding her back onto me. Harry stood by, looking on, wanking his stiff cock as I thrust my organ in his wife’s mouth, a string of drool separating from her chin and dripping onto the wrist where she was busy fingering her pussy.

“Mmmmm!” Mrs Cathcart moaned. “Mmmmm!” I was more or less force feeding her my meat, but after the initial incident it seemed to agree with her.

It certainly agreed with Harry, who said, “That’s good, Darren! That’s the way to do it!” At this point the phone rang. “I’ll get that, shall I?” Harry said, as if his wife was in any fit state to answer.

With the man gone from the room, I reached down to grab a hand full of tit, keeping my other hand on the back of Mrs Cathcart’s head so that I could maintain my rhythm. The woman stared up at me as if challenging me to go faster, her mouth sloshing with saliva, her arm working where she was stimulating herself. I could feel the spunk swirling round my balls, eager to rise. Maybe it was best to slow down, in case there was more to come. I was tired of cumming prematurely.

Mrs Cathcart was, however, not minded to hold herself back. She was moaning more intensely, and then her eyes came out on stalks, her body stiffening. I pinched a rock hard nipple as she spasmed, climaxing with my cock buried deep in her mouth.

“It’s for you, Darren,” Harry said from the doorway.

“Shit!” That could only mean one thing. I didn’t even have time to feel proud about holding back my impending ejaculation.

I followed Harry into the living room, spying the phone before he showed it to me. Inevitably, as I’d suspected, it was my mother.

“Hello, dear. Harry says you’re doing a splendid job.”

“Yes,” I replied. “It’s… erm… educational.”

This was the kind of thing I said when I was trying to be sophisticated and adult with women like Mrs Hotter and Mrs Craddock. I could tell it threw my mother. “That’s good, dear.”

“What do you want, Mum?” I knew I sounded impatient and petulant, which was also out of character, but I couldn’t help it. Mrs Cathcart had appeared from the kitchen, carrying an empty beer bottle.

“I just wanted to know what time you’ll be home,” my mother said. “I wouldn’t want you to miss your supper.”

Was it that late? Not that I cared about that, or about supper. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not now that Mrs Cathcart had sat down on the sofa, spreading her legs, sliding forward and pushing the neck of the bottle into her pussy.

“Darren? Are you still there?”

“Yes, mum.” I was there, but I couldn’t speak. Harry was up on the sofa, slapping his big cock against his wife’s face. It was a mesmerising sight.

“Supper,” my mother said. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

To hell with supper. I still owed Mrs Cathcart a facial, at the very least. “A while yet,” I said, as Harry wiped his cock all over his wife’s face. Mrs Cathcart was moving the bottle back and forth. “Look, don’t worry about me, mum. I’ll get something to eat on the way home.”

“A burger no doubt,” my mother said with distaste, as Harry whispered something into his wife’s ear.

I didn’t answer. Mrs Cathcart was removing the bottle and dumping it on the sofa before sliding off the furniture all together. As Harry took her place, she turned, ending up on all fours.

“Darren, are you there?”

“Yes, mum.” Harry had his cock in one hand and his wife’s hair in the other. In next to no time her mouth was full, Harry pushing her right the way down his pole.

“Are you sure you don’t want supper at home?”

“Yes, mum,” I said impatiently. “Look, I’m sorry, mum. I’ve got to go.”

“So we’ll see you when we see you?”

“That’s about the size of it,” I said, as Mrs Cathcart spluttered at the back of her throat. “Bye, mum. See you later.”

“Goodbye, dear,” my mother said, sounding a little confused. She may have said something else, but the handset was already on its way to the cradle.

Harry winked at me. “I reckon it’s time Sally had a good drilling,” he said.

As if there was any other thought in my mind. “My thoughts exactly,” I said, ripping off my clothes as I made my way across the room, almost tripping myself up in the process. Remembering that Mrs Cathcart seemed to have a thing about spanking, I gave her arse a slap, and then another.

“Ugh!” Mrs Cathcart exclaimed, her face still impaled on Harry’s cock.

I spanked her again for good measure before taking aim. I was so turned on by now I just rammed my cock into her.

“Mmmmmfffff!” Mrs Cathcart spluttered.

As I drove my cock back and forth, Harry began moving his wife’s head up and down on his pole. “That’s it, Darren,” he said. “That’s just the ticket. The only thing Sally likes better than two cocks at once is three cocks at once.”

This more or less blew my mind. I mean there were women in my magazines who accommodated more than one man at a time, I just never imagined real life women did it.

Driving my eager cock hard and fast in Mrs Cathcart, I made a grab for her tits as she twisted her head a little. Harry allowed her to come off his cock. She gasped loudly, then breathed, “And Hunk adores it when some young stud gets to stuff my pussy full.”

Harry twisted his wife’s head back into position. She held her mouth open eagerly enough for him to shove her back down on his cock, moaning all the while. The man looked at me and winked where I was busy thrusting. Sweat was breaking out on me as he said, “Sally’s mouth is every bit as dirty as her mind, Darren.”

“I like that,” I said. It seemed a silly thing to say, but all I knew was that Mrs Cathcart’s pussy was impossibly wet and welcoming and making as much noise as her mouth, where her husband’s cock was ravaging the back of her throat. Mrs Cathcart was groaning under the treatment and instinctively I twisted her nipples, causing a bigger groan.

“Don’t forget, Darren,” Harry said. “You’re welcome to Sally any time you like.”

“Th-thank you,” I stuttered, thrusting and thrusting my hard cock into the moaning woman. Again it was a very silly thing to say, but what was I supposed to say? Besides, I could feel my climax fast approaching and was too preoccupied with that. I mean, I could just spurt deep inside Mrs Cathcart, but there was one thing I so desperately wanted.

“Anything you want to do,” Harry said. “I’m sure Sally will be up for it.”

The offer couldn’t have come at a better time. “May I give Mrs Cathcart a facial?” I breathed. “Like, right now.”

Harry grinned, lifting Sally’s head from his cock. “Turn around, my little nympho,” he said.

I pulled out of Mrs Cathcart, holding my cock as she got into position, sitting on the floor between her husband’s legs with her back to him, his hands on the sides of her head as she tilted her face up and winked at me. “Do it then, Stud! All over my face! Give me everything you’ve got!”

I stepped forward. My cock was impossibly slick from being coated with her juices and there was an obscene, wet slapping noise as I moved my hand. Mrs Cathcart’s chin was gooey where she’d drooled on her husband’s fat cock. “I’m really going to enjoy seeing your pretty face plastered with cum, my little nympho,” Harry said.

How kinky were this couple? If I hadn’t already been on the cusp, that would have tipped me over the edge. “Oh, Mrs Cathcart!” I exclaimed. “I’m going to do it! I’m going to cum! All over your face, Mrs Cathcart!”

Mrs Cathcart just smiled, her lips closed but her eyes gleaming behind the protection of her spectacles. Harry, on the other hand, said, “That’s fantastic, Darren! Make us all happy! Cover Sally’s face with cum!”

I was already spurting. Groaning heavily it felt like I’d never cum so much in my entire life. Maybe I hadn’t. Mrs Cathcart’s face seemed no more than a canvas for abstract patterns of thick, creamy white. It just kept on spurting out of me, jet after jet, plastering the woman’s face. When I was finally done and she winked at me, I could barely see the gesture behind the glaze of sperm on her glasses.

I stood there, still holding my dick, just staring at my handiwork. “Doesn’t she look fantastic?” Harry said.

“Fantastic,” I echoed, not knowing what else to say, but knowing that the sight of Mrs Cathcart with all my spunk on her face was one to behold.

“Would you clear the coffee table, please, Darren?” Harry said. I didn’t understand what he was driving at, but by now it was all for the couple to understand and me to learn.

There weren’t many items on the table, and when I’d cleared it, Mrs Cathcart made her move, getting on her back on the table with her legs spread. Her husband was over her in an instant, driving his hard cock into her pussy. Mrs Cathcart turned her head, breathing heavily. She was looking at me, though the sperm on her glasses still obscured her eyes somewhat. “Hunk adores fucking me when I’ve just had my face plastered,” Mrs Cathcart breathed. “Sometimes I think it’s his very favourite thing.”

I just stared. Harry was making no attempt to speak, just staring intently at the mass of sticky goo on his wife’s face as he drove his cock back and forth. “Does it turn you on, Hunk?” Mrs Cathcart breathed. “Fucking me after this young stud’s cum all over my face?” Sperm slithered into her mouth as she spoke, but she didn’t seem to care.

Harry replied with a lot of heavy panting, his back sticky with sweat. Mrs Cathcart wasn’t looking at her husband though, she was looking at me. She licked her lips as she gasped, scooping more of my cum into her mouth. “Fuck that’s good!” she moaned. “I hope you’ll cum all over me many, many times, Darren!”

Such sentiments were as if designed to get my randy teenage cock straight back to working order. But they also had an effect on Harry, who suddenly gave a hefty grunt and pulled his cock out of his wife. Suddenly his seed was shooting all over her pussy.

“Oh!” Mrs Cathcart cried. “I am a lucky lady! Two big loads on me!”

My enthusiasm got the better of me as it always did. “I can give you another load if you like, Mrs Cathcart. I’m sure of it!”

“Will you listen to the lad, Hunk!” Mrs Cathcart exclaimed. “He’s so very keen! Isn’t it sweet?”

“It’s because you’re so amazing, Mrs Cathcart,” I said.

This time Mrs Cathcart just smiled. A hand moved down her body, fingers began moving against her pussy, slithering in the mass of white goo her husband had just delivered. “Bring me the bottle, Stud,” she said. Harry willingly fetched the implement as my cock made the final leap to readiness again.

Mrs Cathcart took the bottle in her free hand, still rubbing her goo-covered pussy as she adjusted her position, twisting her body. Then I watched with goggle eyes as she dragged some of the sperm to her anus. What was this kinky woman going to do now?

What she did was to slowly ease a finger inside her back passage, moaning lustily.

“How about that, Darren?” Harry said. “Isn’t she a marvel?”

My hand was back round my swollen cock. I knew I should be cool about things, but I just couldn’t. “Does Mrs Cathcart do anal?” I blurted.

The woman herself just giggled. “All in good time, Stud,” she said, stretching her anus with a second finger.

“Something to look forward to,” Harry said winking at me.

I could hardly believe it. My hand was working, Mrs Cathcart staring at my twice swollen cock like it was a feast. Then suddenly the neck of the bottle was in her pussy. Her fingers inched deeper up her backside as she began fucking herself with the bottle. “I want to cum!” she breathed. “I need to cum!”

“Sally’s not one to be refused,” Harry grinned. He moved up to his wife and placed a hand on her sticky quim, playing with her clit.

“Oh yes!” Mrs Cathcart cried. “Oh yes!”

I stared at the action, at the woman’s fingers stretching her anus, at the way she was going at herself with the bottle, at Harry’s deft fingers rubbing her sensitive spot. My own hand was working nineteen to the dozen. I didn’t know where or if I fitted into this, but it didn’t matter. It was like my own private show, and I’d make very sure I made the most of any opportunity that came my way.

The woman herself was moaning and moaning, writhing on the table, her nipples tightening by the second. Then she was staring at me through blotchy glasses. “I’m gonna cum!” she breathed. “Soon! And when I do, Darren, I want you to cum straight in my mouth. Can you do that for me?”

By now I would have done anything for Mrs Cathcart. “My pleasure,” I said, somehow finding what I took to be a suave attitude.

The woman went back to moaning and moaning, her mouth now wide open. I managed somehow to straddle the table, making sure I could still see where the woman was plugging both holes while Harry rubbed away with a look of utter delight. When my balls came into contact with Mrs Cathcart’s face, she took the opportunity to slide her tongue against them, still moaning heavily.

I reached out to pinch her nipples, ending up pulling on them. “Oh!” Mrs Cathcart cried. “Oh!” Harry just grinned at me, obscenely happy to see his wife in this predicament.

Then I saw Mrs Cathcart’s fingers disappear completely in her anus as she let out a great, “Ugh!” She was working the bottle as fast as anything. “Now! Now!”

Angling my cock was no easy matter. I can hardly remember how I managed it, but I found some kind of position where I could grab Mrs Cathcart’s head and angle that too. The woman’s body jerked and heaved, her wide open mouth uttering orgasmic sounds as I held my part of the bargain, shooting my sperm straight into that delicious cavity.

It took a while for Mrs Cathcart to recover from the climax, though she did find it in herself to thank me for my delivery, which she didn’t have to do at all. Then she went upstairs to shower.

“Best be on your way, Darren,” Harry said. “We wouldn’t want your parents to wonder what’s taking all this time, would we?”

“No,” I agreed. I was feeling a bit tongue-tied. Helping a man to fuck his wife wasn’t exactly something I’d ever imagined happening to me. Was there a protocol for this kind of thing? Should I gave effusive thanks? I had no idea.

I was in need of a quick clean-up myself, which I accomplished in the downstairs toilet. When I was done and dressed, Harry took my arm and looked at me seriously. “I’m sure you understand about keeping this on the q.t,” he said.

I nodded. “Of course,” I said.

“We wouldn’t want everyone knowing, would we?”

“Certainly not,” I said, thinking that I certainly wouldn’t want anything to get back to my parents.

“We’d have the whole street queueing up,” Harry said with a grin. “I’m not saying Sally might not like that, but there are limits, you know?”

The idea of the whole street lining up to have their way with Mrs Cathcart boggled the mind, but so did everything that had happened today. I stopped off at a burger bar on the way home, and it was then that the idea came to me. It was a horrible idea, and I tried to banish it from my mind. But if Mrs Cathcart was so free and easy, was it possible that my father had been involved in something similar with the pair. He and Harry were colleagues, after all. Might they not have…

No best, not to go there at all.

But I would be going back to the Cathcarts’. Of that I was absolutely certain.