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The Teacher, Her Huband, Her Pupil And Her Boss

What goes around comes around
Seeing that her husband was preoccupied with the camera, the blonde turned her head to the window. A quick smile and a wink, that was all, then she turned her head back, pulling her knees up at the same time. The armchair was big enough to swallow her whole, and make her comfortable.

Now her husband looked at her. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. “I can't wait.”

It was true. Her husband had been delighted when she'd finally agreed to let him video her. But that wasn't why she couldn't wait. She couldn't wait because she knew that he was outside, watching. She didn't dare acknowledge him now, but she could just about glimpse him out of the corner of her eye, leaning against the narrow strip of brickwork that stopped the window from stretching the full length of the wooden veranda. She'd arranged things as they were purposely, so that he could watch, while minimising the risk of her husband spotting him.

Laying there, in her black, patterned body stocking, the crotchless black, patterned body stocking, waiting for her husband to get the camera in order, all she'd been able to think about was him. The thought that he'd be watching her had her wetter than she'd been in anticipation of anything for a very long time.

“Good,” her husband said. He'd been a bit miffed when she'd said she'd rather perform alone, but she'd pacified him with a wink. “Don't you want to read what all those men think of your gorgeous wife?” she'd said. She knew that would sway him, that the whole reason he wanted to post a video on that site they looked at together, where couples posted their intimate moments, was because he was proud of her; proud of being married to a woman who at 35 or thereabouts still turned heads.

She also had to contend with him wondering why she'd had a change of heart. He'd wanted to post something of their own for some time, but she'd been reluctant to. When she'd finally agreed, he'd used her own argument against it, as if he was suddenly getting cold feet. “Aren't you afraid that someone will recognize you?”

“Then they'd have to admit they paid money to access the site,” she said. “Besides, everyone looks different on film, especially as no-one except you will have seen me like that. And if all else fails I can just flatly deny everything, say it must be someone who's a dead ringer for me.”

Her husband had been satisfied with that. It had been his idea, after all, and he didn't take much persuading.

“I'm so looking forward to seeing myself,” she said, reaching for the wand she'd tucked between herself and the side of the armchair. “Don't expect this to take long.”

At this her husband just smiled. “Are you that hot for this?” he asked.

“Hotter than you'd ever believe,” she smiled, trying hard not to give another wink to the figure her husband could not see, but who was staring hard at her through the window.

“Then we're rolling,” her husband said.

Sat in front of his computer, the man watched as the woman drew her hand across her labia. She was staring straight into the camera, her face almost unreal, as if coated with a licentious sheen. She lifted a wand, shifting slightly, slumping forwards the easier to show her shaven pubes as she rubbed her pussy lips with the head of the toy.

Fingers slid down, pushing her lips apart, locating her clit. The woman drew her finger round the tiny nub, bringing the wand up to push against it from below. She let out a soft moan, holding her pussy lips splayed as she teased the wand into position. Her eyes closed and her face twitched as she accepted the full sensation of the wand, soft sighs and gasps emerging from her.

The man was disappointed when the camera zoomed in on the woman's genitals, showing in detail her swollen clit, the way she teased it with both finger and wand. Nevertheless he enjoyed hearing the woman's increasingly avid grunts, the obvious evidence of her bringing herself closer to the desired end. “Oh yeah,” she gasped suddenly, her plump pussy lips opening of their own volition, just enough to give a glimpse of moisture.

The camera suddenly pulled back to show the whole of the woman. Her legs were swaying violently from side to side as she moaned loudly. Her face twitched, contorted. “Oh yeah!” she gasped again. She was shaking now. Then she was still, the camera zooming in on her face. She stared straight into it, seductively, letting her tongue run round her lips.

There was more time to go. He could see that the film had been edited, but when the action resumed, it was in the same spot with the same get up. The action was actually more of the same, but thankfully now with more shots of the woman's whole body, her face displaying sheer rapture even with eyes closed. She breathed heavily, her body heaving as she continued to tease her clit with finger and toy.

The clip lasted for about fifteen minutes. It ended with the woman staring seductively into the camera as if she wasn't quite satisfied. “Well well,” she said, “three in a row, who would have thought.” She pushed her lips against the head of the wand. “Thank you,” she said, then she gave a smile that would have lit up the deepest, blackest pit.

He clicked on pause, the woman's smiling face filling the whole computer screen. He was as aroused as he had ever been as he sat there regarding her. He remained like that for a long time, until he'd satisfied himself that he was quite certain. “Who would have thought?” he murmured to himself. “If it isn't Corinne Holland.”

He was already waiting for her when she came to unlock the storeroom in the basement.

As soon as his eyes fell on her, she could literally feel them, as if he was already groping her. She unlocked the door and ushered him inside, closing it behind them.

“I'm not going to ask you if you enjoyed the show,” she said. “I saw you jerking off all over our veranda. You've been a very naughty boy.”

“I couldn't help it,” he said. “It was so hot.”

“Well,” she said. “For what it's worth, I thought so too. I was so horny knowing you were watching me. Seeing you spurt made me cum so hard. It was worth making an excuse to go outside and clean up your spunk.” Corinne was moving into the room as she spoke. It was a rare jumble of items, not least old furniture.

“I couldn't stop thinking about you all weekend,” the boy said, following her.

“Well I hope you've got some spunk left over for me,” Corinne giggled. She found what she wanted now, an old desk she could lean over, her hands moving back to hitch up her skirt, displaying her naked, large but firm buttocks.

“You bet,” the boy said.

“Well I've thought about you too,” Corinne said, getting a grip on her buttocks and pulling them apart. “And I want it so bad. Come on; fuck me!”

Her body trembled as she heard the sound of his zip. His stiff cock pushed at her labia as his hands reached round and grabbed hold of her tits through her blouse.

“Oh yeah!” she gasped as his erection pushed up into her. She'd been wet all morning, all weekend, longing for his young cock in her. “Fuck me!” she gasped. “Give it to me!”

At only sixteen, what he lacked in technique he more than made up for in youthful exuberance. She heard herself squish, the loud slapping of flesh against flesh echoing in her ears. He thrust his cock deep into her, hard and fast, hardly caring for her pleasure, unless the harsh mauling of her breasts counted, but then he didn't have to; it was pleasure enough being screwed by him. “Oh yes!” she gasped when she heard his wild grunt and understood he was on the verge. “Cum in me! I want your spunk deep inside me!”

He stood there watching as she took the tissues out of her handbag. “Away with you,” she said. “We don't want to be seen together, now, do we?”

“Will I see you again later?” he asked.

“So eager,” she smiled. “Of course. Same place, same time.”

He left and she wiped herself off, pulling on the pair of panties she'd left off for his benefit, but ignoring the drips of cum that had splashed onto the floor. She'd see him sooner than that, of course, but in a setting much more humdrum. She wasn't sure all this was benefitting the boy's knowledge of history, which was what she was supposed to be teaching him; but it was definitely benefitting her.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, “Mrs Holland, a word if you wouldn't mind. In my office.”

They remained unsaid, him replying in kind to her “Good Morning, Mr Bryant” as she swished past, leaving a faint trace of perfume in her wake.

He'd had a whole speech prepared. Well, not quite a whole speech, but certainly the gist of the thing.

“...highly inappropriate...”

“...risks bringing the school into disrepute.”

“Your free time is your own, Mrs Holland, but you must understand...”

“...not of a mind to take matters further if the material is removed...”

“...valuable member of staff.”

“...doesn't bear thinking about another parent seeing...”

“A certainly level of propriety comes with the territory...”

Instead he returned to his office alone, sitting down at his desk before removing his spectacles, screwing his eyes shut and rubbing the sides of his nose. Before his eyes he saw Corinne Holland in her body stocking, her rapturous face as she worked herself to a third climax. It was no wonder; he'd watched the clip over and over, every detail of her masturbatory pleasure imprinted on his mind.

It wouldn't matter now if the clip was removed, since he would be able to replay it at will in his mind until his dying day. What did matter was that he wasn't satisfied with just the one clip. He was hoping against hope that there would be much much more.

With the kids finally tucked up in bed, and Corinne and her husband reclining beneath the sheets themselves, she finally got the chance to ask him. “Have you had a chance to check the response?”

He turned his head slowly, smiling at her in a way that suggested both pleasure and a slight sense of insecurity. “Yes,” he said. “Rapturous is the word that covers it.”

She smiled back, feeling a little thrill stab at her genitals. “Go on,” she said. “Tell me more.”

“Lots of comments wondering if there'll be more. Some suggestions. A fair few asking if camming is an option. Even an offer or two from some wondering if they can come round. And that's without the general, ribald expressions of approval.”

Corinne slid the tip of her tongue round her lips. “How do you feel about other men desiring your wife?” she asked slowly, wondering how her husband would feel if he knew that earlier in the day she'd been soundly fucked and spunked twice and had a good tonguing, which had given her a shuddering orgasm, by a sixteen year-old boy.

Her husband didn't answer directly. “I was thinking,” he said, “that with the kids away on their sleepover on Friday, we've got the whole evening to experiment as much as we like in front of the camera.”

“Mmmm,” she purred, rolling over and sliding her fingers through the dark hairs on his chest. “I like the way you think.”

His own hand slid across, fingers landing on her thigh. She knew where he was going and purposely pulled away. “Save it for Friday,” she smiled. “So that we're both good and horny.”

A flicker of disappointment passed over her husband's face in advance of a broad grin. “I like the way you think,” he said.

By the time Wednesday evening rolled around, he couldn't restrain himself any longer. In the event, he was every bit as disappointed as he'd expected to be. He spent two hours skulking about the garden, damp from the lawn seeping into his shoes, hoping against hope there'd be something to see, but only glimpsing Corinne and her husband doing the things you'd expect a married couple with children do of an evening.

Eventually he thought he saw Corinne say, “Right, tidy up your things. It's time for bed.”

Fifteen minutes later the downstairs lights went off. Mr. Bryant crept away from the house, drove home and turned on his computer.

“Just a blow-job today,” she said.

They'd parked up behind a clump of trees, early morning before school, and the boy's hand was between her thighs, where Corinne had clamped it when he tried to touch her there. She sensed his disappointment, but at the same time, his excitement was evident, and she found it hard to tear her eyes away from his bulging cock-head.

She reached out to stroke it, her fingers slipping where pre-cum had already oozed. “You see, Tommy,” she said in a seductive half-whisper, “I want you big and hard later when you watch me. When I perform for the camera, I want to know that you're out there watching me with your big hard cock in your hand. And I want to suck you off now so that I'm good and horny, with your taste in my mouth all day long, just waiting to perform.”

Tommy's brow furrowed. “Won't your husband... you know... the taste?”

“Perhaps I'll have to suck him off too, first thing when I get home,” Corinne giggled.

Sensing that made the boy feel a little bit jealous she leaned over, feeling his fingers trying to reach her panty fabric and not quite managing it. She nuzzled his cock head before kissing him there, letting her tongue tease the little slit. “Mmmmm,” she cooed, “so big and meaty!”

She slithered her tongue over his healthy, young erection, feeling the damp seep into her knickers, the damp he would feel if his fingers were there. “You make me so horny, Tommy,” she said. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you!” Tommy blurted. “I want you so much.”

“What do you want to do to me?” Tommy she persisted, before sliding her lips over his bulging, throbbing helmet.

She felt his hand in her hair. His other hand; he was still trying - and failing - to touch her tightly packaged pussy. “Just that,” Tommy said. “Oh fuck, that's hot!” She'd let her tongue slide out between her bottom lip and his cock, letting it glide down his shaft, along the thick vein. “Oh Mrs Holland, it feels so good when you suck my cock!”

She slid her lips back up and giggled slightly. “It feels so good sucking your cock, Tommy. It's so tasty. Is there nothing more you'd like?”

Her lips went back down over him, his cock making it deeper into her mouth as he thrust upwards a little. “You know I love fucking you,” he breathed. “You're a wonderful fuck, Mrs Holland, with a wonderful tight pussy.”

“Ooooh!” Corinne said, her lips still firmly clamped round him, which made the next words come out funny. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“There's only you,” Tommy gasped. “You're the only one I've ever fucked.”

She wanted to tell him there'd be others, but this was no time for lessons in love. Instead she wriggled her tongue, strumming on his banjo string. He gave a grunt and she quickly moved her tongue away, and her lips.

“That was close,” she smiled. Tommy nodded. She felt his fingers wriggling between her thighs and relented, parting them a little. “Feel that?” she asked. “Feel how damp, how wet I am? That's because I'm so turned on by you, Tommy.”

She extended her tongue, letting it slither all over his helmet. Tommy leaned back, again straining his body upwards. “Won't you let me fuck you?” he asked.

“Of course I will,” Corinne replied, “just not today.” Then she plunged her lips over him, as far down as she could.

“Oh shit!” Tommy gasped.

“What is it?” Corinne asked as best she could, but of course she already knew.

“Mrs Holland! Mrs Holland!” Tommy cried out in a strangled voice. “I'm cumming! I'm cumming!”

A surge of pleasure ran through Corinne's whole body as the boy delivered spurt after spurt in her ravenous mouth.

It was overcast, and he hoped it would remain overcast and not begin to rain. The longer Mrs Bryant stayed out in the garden, the better.

There were two new clips of Corinne Holland on the site. She was sitting in the same chair as last time, but this time with her legs folded under her, even as her thighs were parted. She was wearing white, silk hold-ups and a dark skirt that was so tiny it concealed nothing. This time she was using nothing but her hand to stimulate herself.

“I'm so horny,” she told the camera. “A wet, horny MILF showing myself to you for my pleasure.”

“The pleasure's all mine, Mrs Holland, I assure you,” Mr Bryant murmured, watching the woman push two fingers inside her snatch.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Corinne asked, pronouncing the f-word with some relish. “Fuck me deep? A hot, wet MILF for you to fuck, very deep.”

She moved her hands upwards. Her upper body was attired in a white blouse where only the two buttons level with her breasts were done up. It was a tight-fitting garment, which looked as if it might pop at any moment. She gave her ripe breasts a squeeze outside the blouse, before popping two fingers into her mouth and sucking on them.

“Do you want to see my tits?” she asked. “I know you do. I've been reading all your comments, and they've made me so very horny.”

Corinne sucked on her fingers again, before opening the blouse to reveal a bra that appeared to be coloured in several shades of ocean. Again she squeezed her vast mammaries before pulling them out from inside the cups. “Here they are,” she giggled. “Do you like them? I bet you do.” Her hands were all over her breasts, squeezing rubbing. Mr Bryant watched, his cock straining on end. “I bet I know what you want to do,” Corinne went on. “You want to stick your cock between my tits, don't you, you naughty boy.”

“Don't tempt me,” Mr Bryant murmured as Corinne got her legs out from under her, spreading them wide, holding one of them up, a white, plastic boot adding to the picture of her as a woman of pleasure.

“Or would you rather fuck my pussy?” she asked. “Fuck me deep?”

She moved a hand down to rub the organ in question while her other hand pushed one of her mammoth breasts upwards. Her tongue came out, the tip of it teasing her stiffening nipple. Mr Bryant cast his eye swiftly towards the window. Rain still holding off. He eased down the zip in his trousers and pulled out his stiff manhood.

“It makes me so horny knowing how much you want to fuck me,” Corinne breathed. “Thinking of you sitting there with your stiff cock, wanting me.” She pushed two fingers inside, exhaling her arousal with a loud sigh as her other hand held her breast in place so that she could lash at it again with her tongue. She was looking into the camera with the air of someone barely able to restrain her impulses at all. “Can you hear it?” she breathed.

Mr Bryant could hear it, though he was afraid of turning the sound up too loud, just in case Mrs Bryant had slipped inside. Even so, the sound of Mrs Holland's moist vagina was audible and sent tremors through his stiff organ.

“Are you enjoying watching your horny MILF?” Corinne asked. “A very horny MILF who wants to be fucked so very deep.”

She began frigging herself harder, the hand that had been concerned with her breasts now being used to rub her clit instead. No more words were forthcoming, just sounds; just grunts and gasps and squeaks, and the occasional wheeze. Then the loud cries, the bodily spasms, the closed eyes as the whole scene culminated.

Mr Bryant rose and went over to the window. Down below Mrs Bryant was busy digging with a little trowel. It didn't look like it was going to rain. Quite the contrary, he thought it looked as if a little crack in the clouds was forming. He'd have time to watch the second clip too.

In this one, Corinne was attired as before, with the blouse draped over her shoulders, open, with her tits hanging over her bra. But now she had a black dildo in one hand with which she teased her pussy lips. She licked her lips seductively before saying, “Imagine if this was your cock. Wouldn't you just like to slide it up me, you naughty boy?”

She illustrated this by slowing inserting the dildo, pushing it bit by bit until her pussy had swallowed it whole. “Like that, deep, all the way in, as deep as you can.”

Corinne wriggled the item inside herself before pulling it out and transferring it to her mouth, giving a little suck on it. “Or would you rather put your cock in my mouth?” she asked. Then her eyes widened. “You would, wouldn't you?”

A male figure appeared suddenly, nude, his head cut off by the angle of the camera. The husband no doubt. Mr Bryant felt a little cheated, felt obscurely that this prevented him from having Corinne to himself.

But when she turned her head towards the hard erection that was offered her, he found he didn't mind at all. He could just imagine this, in his office, Mrs Holland's lips parting, his cock disappearing between them just as her husband's was doing on the screen in front of him. With her free hand, Corinne held onto the hard cock, sucking greedily. Her other hand, the one holding the dildo, moved down again to slowly insert the fake cock in her pussy.

“Mrs Holland,” he murmured as he watched Corinne fuck herself with the dildo, her movements gradually increasing in urgency while she continued to suck on her husband's cock at the same time. Mr Bryant's own hand began working as he heard both Corinne and her husband grunt and groan. Bit by bit the woman shoved the dildo harder inside herself, letting go of her husband's cock as he held her head in place and shoved his cock to and fro in her mouth.

Something was about to happen any moment now, both to himself and to the couple on the screen. Mr Bryant fished a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket, watching, hearing how the woman was about to cum again, understanding that her husband's eruption was nigh too.

Mr Holland made sure his cock stayed in his wife's mouth when his climax announced itself through a series of loud grunts, and it was only when Mrs Holland opened her mouth to cry out orgasmically, still plugging herself with the black dildo, drooling sperm over her chin and breasts, that Mr Bryant came too, spurting his seed into the handkerchief.

“Well now,” Corinne said, staring straight at the camera. “Which would you rather? Have your cock deep in my mouth, or deep in my pussy?”

“Give me half a chance and I'll have both,” Mr Bryant growled. He made sure he cleared the computer's internet history before closing down.

“When can I watch again?”

“So eager,” Corinne said, smiling at the boy. “But I'm glad you enjoyed the show.”

“It was... fucking brilliant.”

Corinne smiled again. “You put on quite a show yourself, Tommy. Wanking your hard cock out there while you were watching teacher getting her kink on.”

“Did it excite you?”

“Of course it did, Tommy. You know how hot and wet I get knowing you're watching me.” Corinne licked her lips and made a grab for the boy's crotch. “How hot and wet I get knowing how hard you are for me.” She clasped her fingers round his trousers, where his erection was bulging. “What did you like best?” she asked.

“I couldn't believe it when you let him fuck you... you know... there.”

“In my arse?”

The boy nodded.

“Did you enjoy it?”

The boy nodded again, suddenly pensive. “Is that... Can I...?”

“All in good time,” Corinne told him, giving his cheek a quick stroke. “Now, how about we get that cock out, eh?”

It took her no time at all to undo his trousers and pull his stiff rod out, the tip glistening with his impatience. She rubbed the hard meat between both hands before moving in and clamping it between her stockinged thighs.

“You're a very bad boy, Tommy Higgins,” Corinne said, stroking his cheek again. “And I'm so glad you are.”

“Th-thanks...,” Tommy said, just waiting for teacher to make next move.

Corinne stayed silent for a moment. “Tell me how much you want me,” she said.

“I want you all the time,” Tommy announced. “I can't stop thinking about fucking you.”

Corinne licked her lips. “And now you can't stop thinking about wanting to fuck my arse?”

Tommy grinned, wolf-like.

“Like I said,” Corinne cautioned, “all in good time.” She gripped the hem of her top and pulled it up, revealing her full mammaries, unrestrained by any undergarment. “In the meantime,” she said, “how do you fancy an afterschool tit fuck?”

Tommy did nothing but grin broadly as his teacher dropped to her knees and wrapped her gorgeous breasts round his aching member.

Mr Bryant cursed that he couldn't see any better, the breeze constantly putting branches of leaves in his line of sight. Ever since he'd discovered the new clips over the weekend, it had been difficult for him to stop thinking of Corinne Holland. He'd resisted the temptation to sneak round to her house, hoping for a glimpse; resisted all the other temptations which came disturbingly close to stalking. He wouldn't have seen her here now if he hadn't taken the short cut home and caught sight of her car.

Wondering what it was doing, standing on its own just in from a back road, he'd crept closer. And then he'd seen them.

Unfortunately he couldn't get close enough to hear what was being said, and the view was too bad for him to see everything that was done. But he recognized Tommy Higgins easily enough, and caught the gist of what was going on.

He was caught between two or three contradictory impulses, and so remained standing, watching. He could just about glimpse Corinne's naked torso, her luscious breasts; just about grasp that she was using them to stimulate Tommy Higgins. Higgins, who was her pupil for goodness sake. He saw her head tilt back, her mouth open, he understood that she was cumming, but couldn't be sure if it was self-administered, or the result of something Tommy was doing.

Then he realised shamefully that he was cumming himself, the hand in his trouser pocket cramped around his cock, which was delivering spurt after spurt into his underpants.

Afterwards, having snuck away, Mr Bryant decided that enough was enough. If it was just film clips on the internet, well that was one thing. He needn't do anything about that unless he was alerted to it. But this business with Tommy Higgins; well it was just one step too far.

Corinne chose to wear her very finest stockings, black, silky items, which seemed to caress her skin as she pulled them on. If she was going to do this, she might as well make the most of it.

When the moment had come, she'd decided it was pointless to deny anything. Mr Bryant had called her into his office, looking very grave indeed.

“Displaying yourself on the internet is one thing,” he'd said, pronouncing the word 'internet' as if it was a thing to be approached with extreme caution and trepidation. “But fornicating with a pupil, a sixteen year old boy.”

Corinne wasn't sure if it was the fornicating, the fact of it being with a pupil or with a mere boy which was the most heinous crime in Mr Bryant's book, but she'd had the good sense to look suitably crushed and repentant.

“I'm sure you understand, Mrs Holland, that all of this is very serious indeed. Grounds for instant dismissal in fact.”

That Corinne understood only too well. She gave Mr Bryant to understand that she was mortally ashamed of herself, that she'd been under a great deal of pressure lately, that it had all been an accident of pure madness. She hoped against hope that Mr Bryant hadn't been talking to, and wouldn't be talking to, Tommy. If he knew that their affair had been going on for three months now, she was sure there would be no saving her.

“I'm very disappointed,” Mr Bryant had said. “I need hardly say that this puts me in a very difficult position. You are one of our very finest teachers, a definite asset to this establishment.”

Yes, Corinne thought, that was one way of putting it, and it might just be the thing that saved her. With the education system the way it was, both the sacking of an excellent teacher and the hint of scandal would be things Mr Bryant was anxious to avoid. Perhaps things could be swept under the carpet.

The longer Mr Bryant went on, the surer she became that something could be done. If he'd have been of a mind to, he could have given Corinne her notice straight off the bat, without any of this extreme circumlocution. When the opportunity presented itself she said, “I assure Mr Bryant, that I understand the full implications of my indiscretions. I regret them. I will of course have the material on the internet removed, and cease any involvement with Tommy Higgins.”

Mr Bryant peered at her through his circular spectacles, rubbing his chin as he did so. “The thing is, Mrs Holland, much as I would like it to stop at that, I'm not sure it can.”

Corinne, feeling that the time had come to start clutching at straws, had said, “Please, Mr Bryant, is it not human to err? Is there really no way... nothing I can... no agreement we can come to?”

The construction Mr Bryant put on her words was immediately apparent to her, and just as apparent to her was that she would indeed agree to anything.

She'd decided on smart; over her stockings and lace underwear a black skirt and her white blouse. Regardless of what was waiting, she was determined not to appear too slutty.

Luck had been on her side. Her sister-in-law and her husband were taking their only child to the seaside, and the kids had been begging to be allowed to go along for the ride. When her husband said it would give him the opportunity to go over and help his mate Mark with his roof, the deal was done, leaving Corinne free to save her bacon.

It had transpired that Mr Bryant and his wife owned a cottage on the outskirts of town, which they rented out to holiday makers. At the moment it was vacant, which had no doubt played into Mr Bryant's hands. Quite what he told his wife, she didn't know, nor did she much care.

She found the place easily enough, Mr Bryant waiting in the lane. The cottage lay alone just round a bend, hidden from the other houses. It was an overcast day, but Mr Bryant was unconscionably sunny, greeting Corinne with a smile quite unlike anything he ever produced at school. She had a sudden intimation that he was viewing her with the same kind of look he'd had when he'd viewed her on the internet, seen her spreading her pussy lips, heard her saying, “Wouldn't you just like to slide it up me, you naughty boy?”

He kept his hands firmly clasped behind his back as his eyes slithered all over the portions of her silky thighs that were visible to him. Corinne felt a surge of nervousness in the pit of her belly, and a tinge of excitement too. Mr Bryant may be a lecherous old sod, but her sex drive had always been immense. At no time in her life had she ever passed up on the chance for a bit of hanky panky, regardless of circumstances.

“Come,” Mr Bryant said, opening the gate for her.

They hadn't proceeded more than a few paces before Mr Bryant pulled up short.

“What is it?” Corinne asked.

“Burglars!” Mr Bryant exclaimed definitively. How could he be so sure? Corinne wondered. Yes, there had been a spate of break-ins in the area of late, but to infer immediately that it was so here, now, seemed to her fanciful. Didn't such persons go about their business at night? And didn't they have a van to transport their stuff in.

“Surely not,” she said.

“The light is on in one of the rooms,” Mr Bryant said. “I'm always most particular about checking to make sure nothing is eating up electricity when I leave.” This struck Corinne as quite probable, though she still thought there was nothing to it. “Wait here!” Mr Bryant was telling her.

But there was no way Corinne was going to stand about waiting while Mr Bryant checked for non-existent intruders. She followed him across the lawn, finding the going tough in her heels, but managing to keep up with him all the same. Mr Bryant made a circular manoeuvre, coming at the house diagonally, so that he might peer in at the window. Corinne did the same, feeling the man's clenched fist against her hip as they both craned their necks to see.

“Mrs Bryant!” Mr Bryant exclaimed suddenly.

“Mr Holland!” Corinne exclaimed.

Then their voices sounded in chorus, “Tommy Higgins!”

For there they were, the three of them, Mrs Bryant and Mr Holland face to face, Mr Holland on his back, his stiff erection warmly embraced by the woman's quim. Mrs Bryant's face was a picture of rapture as she moved with some degree of care, the full girth of Tommy Higgins' young cock burrowing into her rear end.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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