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John and his dad were was out, but Mrs Morgan was her usual happy bouncy self. “Come in, I think it’s in the VCR already” she said and turned on the television. The screen burst into life and there, in glorious technicolour, was Mrs Morgan, slurping away on an absolute monster of a cock. “Oh my god” she squealed, her hands shooting to her mouth as she spun around to face me and my instantly hard cock straining up against my tight shorts.“Oh. My. God!” she squealed again, “You horny little man! Don’t tell me you like looking at that filth.” All I could do was nod like a little idiot. “Well then” she said, “why don’t we enjoy the show together.” With that, she came and sat on the sofa behind me, opening her legs and pulling me in between them so that I stood there, my back against those incredible tits, her legs either side of me and her head looking over my shoulder. Then she put her left hand down to my zipper, and pulled out my young hard cock. “Tell me what you see on the screen”. So she kept walking, slowly leaving the city centre behind her, making her way towards the outskirts, her body still screaming at her to stop. Her left knee was throbbing and aching, a very bad sign. She could not be sure how much further she would be able to walk before it gave out under her, before it simply could not take anymore. A stupid childhood accident, the memory was still vivid in her mind, a careless mistake while climbing with friends and she was left with a weak knee that forever caused her problems. For while she was able to train the rest of her body to do as she willed, she was always hindered by that knee. It was infuriating to say the least. While she was capable of running a marathon and fighting those twice her size, one blow to the knee, too much pressure on it could cripple her. And it had taken enough stress. The uneven ground of the forest as she had run had taken its toll. She cried out in pain as she crumpled to the floor, that was it, there was simply no.
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