Margot Peters - Campus love-in

"Come on. Mrs. Hoag, straddle me."

"Yes, yes," she muttered frantically. "Stick your dick into me… fill my hot hole!"

She mounted me, grabbing my cock with both hands and pressing the head below the taut labes. Her hole caught me and then she sank down, every inch filling her.

"Ohhhhh! God, that feels good, you can't imagine…"

She began to bounce, slowly, up and down, lifting her cunt up the length of my shaft then dropping back down again, up and down, rhythmically, sensually. Her eyes were closed and she hung her head back, probably not even thinking about me, or caring who I was as long as I kept my long prick hard and let her ride it.

I glanced across and saw that Sheila and Judy were graduating to more esoteric stunts. Sheila was attempting to fist-fuck her friend and already had most of her hand and wrist up Judy's open, aching pussy.

"Oh! Oh! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" Mrs. Hoag suddenly shouted at the top of her trembling lungs.

"Look. look," Judy whispered. "Look who's here, will you! It's Mrs. Hoag… and Mr. Eastman's fucking her good!"

"Hello, Mrs. Hoag," Sheila said. “That Mr. Eastman, he fucks real good, doesn't he?"

Mrs. Hoag, needless to say, ignored them. She was off on her own voluptuous journey, eyes clenched, nostrils flaring violently, grinding her teeth, wiggling her ass around me, the jaws of her pussy clenching, loosening, quivering all around my hard prick.

And then another visitor entered the room. I looked back and saw him standing in the hallway, eyes wide, fists clenched. It was Mr. Hoag.

"Helen!" he croaked. "Mr… Mr. Eastman! Gaaaa…" He backed out of sight. Mrs. Hoag saw him, trembled, then continued fucking. Her body flushed as her orgasm peaked. She sighed convulsively.

Suddenly, Mr. Hoag came running out of the kitchen, swinging a butcher knife.

"I'm going to kill you! Both of you!" he exclaimed, and ran for us, decapitation obviously on his mind.

I lifted Mrs. Hoag up, till my cock slithered out of her damp hole and dropped her on her pretty ass, right on the floor, blocking Mr. Hoag's attack and tripping him up. They rolled over together.

I quickly examined the situation, and I saw how limited were my options. Then I hurried into my bedroom, tossed the few things I had unpacked back into my suitcase, closed it, and started for the front door.

Mr. Hoag was up and about by then, though, and nearly caught me with that butcher knife. His wife was cowering on a couch in the living room. Sheila and Judy were still screwing on the floor, stoned out of their minds and not giving a shit about anything, I guess. I turned on my heels and ran for a side window, Mr. Hoag gave pursuit, but I was younger and faster.

I made it to my car and drove off into the sunset. And frankly. I think I was well out of it.