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At the next tea party, she made it her business to engage Mrs. Mabel Conover in conversation. “Mabel, I recall the last time we met, you were complaining about the lack of a man in your life.”

“I believe I said that my womanly garden had not been watered in decades. And I still have the desire I had as a young bride.”

Mabel Grant Conover was eighteen when she married the wealthy Jackson Conover of the nationally known oil Conover family. He was in his mid-thirties and had an eye for the ladies. His eye caught young Mabel.

When he asked her to marry, she made one thing clear, “Jackson, your reputation precedes you; you will be mine and only mine and I will make my womanly charms available to you whenever you request them.”

It worked out well. Kind of; sort of. Once Mabel Conover experienced marital bliss (for the first time on her wedding night), she just couldn’t do without it. “Jackson, it’s like there’s an itch in there and your manhood makes it go away.”

It wasn’t Jackson who requested it; it was Mabel. Almost every day and although information wasn’t nearly as readily available as it is today, she found books and pamphlets that were considered pornographic, like the one Mrs. Allsop showed Mrs. Grey, which gave “instruction” on various ways for a woman to please her husband.

Mabel insisted they try them all, but in the end her itch was satisfied when she was on her back. “Harder, faster, Jackson, give my cunny your magnificent manhood.” To Jackson’s credit, he pounded her cunny to her satisfaction, once, often twice a day, and even a third time in the early years of their marriage.

Mabel became an insatiable and enthusiastic lover. In bed she was everything and more than the prostitutes Jackson once visited and unlike them, she wasn’t acting.

Inevitably she became pregnant within a year of their wedding, and for the next twenty years almost once a year delivered a baby. Two, at the most three months after childbirth, it was Mabel who demanded they start where they left off. “Jackson, I’m getting that itch again.”

Then her life changed. Early menopause set in, although at the time no one called it that. Her last child grew to adulthood and Jackson Conover had a heart attack and died.

When she had that conversation with Mrs. Grey, it had been over a decade since his death. “I don’t know about watering your garden, but I do know a young man, who might fulfill your desires.”

“I’d give anything for a man. Did you say young man?”

“I did and all indications are that he’s never felt the joy of a woman’s garden.”

“Are you suggesting that I could train such a young man to please me just the way I want? I’d pay good money for that.”

They came to a monetary agreement. And that’s how Mrs. Lucinda Grey introduced Harry to Mrs. Mabel Grant Conover.

Mrs. Grey’s carriage brought young Harry to the Conover mansion. Big Tom, Lucinda Grey’s carriage driver waited, and waited. Finally, Mrs. Conover came out of her home; a disheveled Mrs. Conover. “You can return to Mrs. Grey’s. I’ll send her a message when Harry’s ready to go back.”

Harry stayed a week. He stayed only a week because Mabel Grant Conover wore his cock out. “Ma’am. It just won’t get hard anymore.”

The reason that Harry’s cock couldn’t get hard anymore was that once Mrs. Conover saw it for the first time, and unlike Mrs. Allsop used her hand and not her mouth, to get it hard; then insisted that he mount her.

That itch had been burning for a long time. She wasn’t going to let that happen as long as Harry was available. To be precise, as long as Harry’s young, long, fat cock was available.

Harry was surprised when Mrs. Conover undressed in front of him, lay back on her bed and spread her legs for him. She insisted that he join her, naked, of course. By the time he got his pants off, his manhood was standing tall.

Mabel had never seen anything like it. It was much longer and fatter than her husband’s, but it had been so long, maybe her memory wasn’t what she remembered.

After all those children and age, she wasn’t all that attractive. Her breasts sagged and her stomach was a mass of wrinkles and stretch marks, but Harry’s eyes focused only on one thing: today many people call it her bush. Back then, like when she was talking to Mrs. Grey, Mabel called it her womanly garden.

“Harry, my womanly garden needs watering.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant, but with her instruction Harry was soon on top of her, and she guided his cock into her cunny. That started the greatest twenty minutes of Harry’s young life. Like Marcus and many young men, he masturbated, but that was nothing like what he was experiencing.

As for Mabel Conover. Although today we know that a vagina has a certain amount of elasticity, after sixteen children and a number of miscarriages and stillbirths, her vagina did not have the same elasticity it had on her wedding night. Still, Harry’s horse-like cock made her feel like nothing Mr. Conover had made her feel. She felt it stretching her cunny.

It must be natural, she thought, as young Harry seemed to know the basics. “Faster, Harry. Pound my cunny harder. Oh Harry, harder. Yes, like that, oh Harry. Your cock, oh your cock.”

He’d never heard a woman, a sophisticated lady like Mrs. Conover use such language. Since she used that language, he didn’t see any reason to hold back. “You like fucking my cock, don’t you Mrs. Conover?”

“Yes, Harry, oh yes. Not just your cock. Your big, hard, stiff cock. Harry, keep fucking me. Fuck me harder.” Fuck was another word that had never crossed her lips.

Harry heard something else, as he followed her instructions and pounded her cunny hard, then harder. He heard Mabel moaning, sighing and after one particularly hard thrust, a scream. “Ma’am, am I hurting you?”

“No, no, oh no Harry. Keep giving it to my cunny just like that.” Her wide ass was bouncing off the bed, As I said, there was nothing like it in Harry’s life.

Of course, he had to finish. Both of them lay there exhausted. “Harry, when you’re ready, Mabel’s cunny will be ready to welcome you again.”

Over the course of that week, Mabel insisted that Harry water her garden, or as she now called it, and Harry did, too, her cunny. The sophisticated lady was nowhere to be found. “Harry, my cunny needs a good fucking. Is your cock ready?”

By the end of the week, that itch that had been there so long was gone. However, whether it came back or not, Mabel Grant Conover knew she was going to want Harry’s long, fat cock again and again.

When Big Tom drove Mrs. Grey’s carriage to the Conover mansion to return Harry to the Grey mansion. He didn’t know what the young man was doing with Mrs. Conover, but he could speculate. Harry looked exhausted. The other thing that Big Tom knew was that according to his sisters, Mathilda and Gladys, Harry had something in his pants that a lonely woman like Mrs. Conover might be interested in.

When he asked his sisters how they knew, they just laughed and mentioned something about a keyhole. He laughed, “so, not just Mrs. Allsop, but Mrs. Conover both have young lovers, who are . . .”

“Yes, big, very big,” the sisters giggled in unison.

Meanwhile, Hermione Louise Allsop arranged another meeting with Marcus Grey. After all, she’d already paid for it. Like the first time, she spent hours and hours on her knees. She was so pleased that she hadn’t lost her skill after all these years. She was so pleased that making a man explode deep in her mouth. especially, a young man, had her knickers, like the first time, sopping wet.

Marcus stayed three days. Hermione suggested that he leave and get some rest. On that third day, that blowjob (not that it was called that at the time) produced not a drop of his boy cream. She was thrilled that she could in fact, suck all that cream out of young Marcus’ cock. She was disappointed that it would be a few days, perhaps a week before his body would rejuvenate and she could enjoy the taste of his deliciousness again.

Over the next two months, Hermione paid for three more ‘dates’ with Marcus Grey. Dates that consisted solely of her satisfying her desires and needs with her mouth. Big Tom drove Marcus to Mrs. Allsop’s each time. “Damn, I’ll bet that old lady can’t get enough of that young meat,” he said half aloud as he dropped him off.

When Hermione was married, it was orally that she was able to satisfy herself and her husband. They fucked, and that’s what she called it, but she only used that word while in bed with Mr. Allsop. The fucking itself was unsatisfactory to her. She found that there was much more joy and fun when he exploded in her mouth. Besides, she found fucking painful, but she was a dutiful wife.

Now, she was curious. What would it be like to have Marcus fill her cunny with his magnificent manhood. The next time she was with Marcus, whom she’d paid for in advance, she insisted. “Marcus, officially, you’re still a virgin. You know I love having your cock in my mouth, but I suspect you’d like to know what it’s like.”

“Yes ma’am, but Mrs. Allsop, I’m not complaining. I’ve never felt like you make me feel.”

“I know, but it’s time.”

The maids were off.

He was already in bed, naked. His majestic cock already anxious for what had become a ritual, but Louise did not get on her knees.

She got undressed. Marcus became only the second man to see her naked. He was curious; he’d never seen a naked woman. On the bed, she spread her legs for him. He stared. He was fascinated by her breasts. He was fascinated by the mass of hair which hid her womanhood.

Hermione Louise Allsop’s cunny was gushing. It always did when she saw Marcus’ stiff horse-like cock. “Marcus get on top of me. I’ll help you figure it out.”

It was a mistake. That huge cock hurt. “Just push in Marcus; it’ll be alright.” She didn’t moan or sigh. She screamed in pain. The more he pushed in, the worse the pain got. The more he pushed in, the louder she cried in pain.

“Enough, Marcus. I can’t. I just can’t. It hurts too much but let me.”

Mrs. Allsop in the prior meetings was an extraordinary practitioner of fellatio; today she was even better. To herself, “I need to give Marcus my very best effort; he may not come back.” In today’s words, Louise was an all-world cocksucker. She made love to Marcus’ huge cock.

When he finished deep in her mouth, of course, Mrs. Allsop didn’t stop; she kissed, licked, played until he was hard again. To be fair, it didn’t take much; after all, he was eighteen.

Three times that afternoon, Louise felt his explosion deep in her mouth. The third, almost as impressive as the first. That afternoon, Marcus’ cock was barely out of her mouth.

When she finally took it out of her mouth, her lips were raw. She didn’t care. “Marcus, I’m sorry about earlier, I just couldn’t.”

“Everything was wonderful Mrs. Allsop. Anytime.” The smile on his face could not have been any bigger.

TO BE CONTINUED

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