Moving up my body, he said, “I suppose your husband does that for you.”“No, no,” I said. “Never.”“Who owns you, Carol?” he asked, runn...ng his cock from my opening up to my clit.“You,” I answered. “You, Mr. Boyd.”He held up my jelly-like legs and pushed his throbbing member deep into my contracting pussy. He began thrusting into me like a mad man, to make it clear that he owned me. At this point, I had become more than just his personal secretary, I was now also his personal slut.“Mmm, fuck me!”. He’d been a virgin when I’d started ‘babysitting’ him as he’d called it. An eighteen-year-old man doesn’t need a babysitter in my eyes and he’d quickly come to appreciate the charms of an older woman. I don’t like the term ‘cougar’ but that’s what they called me – Peter and his friends. Sometimes I let them fuck me, too. When we had sex alone, Peter liked to call me ‘Aunty' Rose and I had no complaints as it definitely seemed to make him even hornier. When we’d started out, he knew nothing.. More

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