Let go and shoot your load

There is no way you can hold out with Mrs. Pendleton’s hot tits bouncing up and down and her magic hand stroking your cock from the base to the swollen tip. Your breathing grows heavier and heavier by the moment. She grins and looks at you over the top of her sunglasses. You jerk your hips, fucking into her grasp. She leans her soft breasts against your arm and her head against your shoulder as she pumps you towards your release.

“Mrs. Pendleton,” you gasp. “I’m… going…”

“Shhhhhhhh,” she hisses against your ear, watching her hand on your cock as well. “Go on, Jake. Let it all out. A big, strapping boy like you with such a big cock needs to let that pressure out once in a while. Go on. Cum for me. Shoot your big load.”

The pleasure in your cock becomes unbearable. You start gasping, glad for the sound of the weed whacker on the other side of the house to somewhat muffle the noises you are making. Mrs. Pendleton chuckles almost directly into your ear, watching over your shoulder as your cock goes from red to purple.

“Aahhhh!” You cry as the hot pressure is relieved by the sudden, intense throbbing of your orgasm. Long white ropes of cum spurt from your pumping cock, deftly milked onto the dirt below by Mrs. Pendleton’s hand.

“Oooh, what a big load,” she cries, pressing her warm tits even tighter against your arm. Her hand squeezes every drop out of your cock and she even shakes the last few drops off. She leans away from you, a smirk on her plumped lips.

“S-sorry,” you mutter, pushing your slowly-softening cock back into your shorts.

“Oh, no, Jake. Don’t be sorry. I consider that a compliment.” She holds her hand up and admires a line of glistening white cum connecting her finger to her thumb. She plays with it for a moment before popping her fingers into her mouth. She looks you in the eye as she wantonly slurps her fingers clean. “Mmmmmmm. You young men are always so delicious.”

She’s like some sort of suburban succubus! You stare at her in wide eyed disbelief as she slowly rises to her feet. Standing above you with the sun behind her, her arms and huge mounds like the bronze of the colossuses.

“Better get back to work, sugar,” she says. “I can finish up with the tulips.”

She gives you a wink as you stagger to your feet. Your head is still spinning as you walk back to the lawnmower. Tony sees you walking over and cuts of the weed whacker.

“You done with the gardening?” His irritation is obvious on his sweaty face.

“Uh, yeah. I just need to finish up the mowing.”

Tony glances back over at the side of the house where Mrs. Pendleton has resumed planting her tulips.

“What were you two doing back there?”

“Nothing,” you say. “I mean, she was just, uh, putting some seed down in the dirt.”

“Seed? You mean like flower bulbs?” Tony laughs. “Kid, you are a fuckin’ idiot about gardening shit. Flowers are in bulbs, not seeds. Now get your ass back to work on the mowing. And stay away from that piece of cougar ass. I’m warning you.”

“I got it,” you say, waving his concerns away as you jog over to the mower.

You finish the mowing on the front and side of the house and move around to the back. Mrs. Pendleton disappears for a while and comes back out wearing a sleeveless button down top that somehow emphasizes those huge tits even more than her bikini. The frills on either side of her neckline move with the summer breeze and lap against the tanned cannonballs of her tits like two oversized, salmon-colored tongues.

“Do you think you could move the mulch from the shed around to the side for me?” She asks.

You glance back at Tony, not wanting to anger him, but he is pacing behind his truck and completely engrossed in a phone call. Mrs. Pendleton squeezes her breasts against you and grabs a handful of your sweaty shirt. She leans her lips to your ear and whispers, “Please.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” you say, scratching your head. “No problem.”

Easier said than done. You have been getting hot and sweaty doing the yardwork, but moving all that mulch out of the hotbox of the shed is another level entirely. You carry two bags at a time, making trips in and out of the shed to the flower beds running along the side of the big house and curving around the back fence. It’s so much work that you have to double over and catch your breath. Stinging sweat keeps dripping out of your hairline and into your eyes.

“You’ve really worked up a sweat,” says Mrs. Pendleton, leaning against the gate to the backyard and watching you. “Why don’t you come back here on the patio and I’ll give you something cold to drink.”

Why not? A nice cold beverage would hit the spot right now. You’re willing to bet whatever Mrs. Pendleton is offering is sweeter than Tony’s cooler full of Tang sloshing on the back of his truck.

“Okay,” you say, pulling up your shirt to mop at your brow.

She leads the way into the backyard, her round ass wiggling enticingly in her tight shorts. You follow her into the spacious yard and over to the sun-warmed tiles of the patio. She has a party cooler full of ice and glass-bottled Cokes. She grabs one of the bottles and passes it to you. She holds another bottle up to her forehead. As you chug your cold drink, you watch a fat drop of sweat trickle from Mrs. Pendleton’s neck down between her tanned breasts. The glistening drops disappears into that valley and your cock twitches in your shorts.

“My husband bought them for me,” she says, lowering the bottle from her forehead. “Nicest thing he has ever done. Go ahead, sweetie, feel them.”

“Huh?” Your eyes go wide at the offer. “Uh, no, I shouldn’t.”

She scoffs with amusement and walks right up to you, thrusting her breasts out. You take a step back and she laughs at you.

“Don’t be afraid of them. Here…” She slowly unbuttons her salmon-colored top and shrugs out of it like it is no big deal that she is baring her tan and sweaty breasts to you. They are a bit too round to be natural, but otherwise perfect, symmetrical, and completely tan with small brown nipples. Clearly Mrs. Pendleton suns herself without her top.

She takes a sip of her Coke and slowly rubs the bottle back and forth across her nipples. They stiffen even more and glisten with the moisture.

“Come on, Jake.” She sets her Coke on the patio table. “You’re going to hurt my feelings if you don’t feel them.”