Homecoming

Making love to a six foot ten inch boy is a trip. I felt like I could climb him like a mountain, and he enveloped me like a big, warm muscle. I keep some of my work supplies in a big plastic bin, and one of my favorite things to do was stand on it and let him fuck me up against the wall with that extra long, searching, probing cock of his. He seemed to be able to get it in me from anywhere, no matter the position of our bodies. The big thing always found its way in, always filling me to capacity. I came more on that beautiful ugly monstrosity than on any other cock. After a while I started to think it had magical powers. I started to worship it, more than I should. I'm happy to say Volleyballs didn't have a girlfriend for a whole semester. I must have fucked that big boy a thousand times. Didn't it hurt, I can hear some of you asking? Did you ever hear that old classic rock song Hurt's So Good? That's my Volleyballs. He was careful with me for the most part, but every once in a while, when he couldn't control himself...oh baby, it hurt so good.

—

A neighbor walked over to talk to me when I was working in my garden one day. She's a nice one, not one of the gossipers. She looked uncomfortable when she said, "I thought you should know...um...everyone can hear you, sometimes. At night."

"Oh. Really?"

"These old houses..." she said, "...I don't think any of them have any insulation in them."

"Yeah, I guess not. How much can you hear?"

"Just...the loud stuff. But it's kind of obvious...what it is."

"Okay. Thanks for telling me. I guess that's why the others are always giving me dirty looks."

"Yeah, maybe," my nice neighbor said. "They told me they don't want their husbands hearing you."

I wanted to tell her their husbands had all heard me up close and personal, but I didn't.

"I don't really mind it," she said. "It gets my Andrew...in the mood."

"Oh, so you're okay with it, then? It's really just this one guy. He makes me...extra noisy."

"I'd marry that one, if I was you," she said, smiling shyly. "Is he old enough?"

I gave her a surprised look and she looked worried that she'd said too much.

"It's okay," she said. "I'm not like the others. What's your business is your business."

"Thanks," I said.

"I've been meaning to ask you what this plant is," she said, deftly changing the subject.

That's Colocasia Elephant Ears," I said. "It's not hardy, I have to cut it back and bring it in the basement every year."

"It's really beautiful. I always think you look like a jungle explorer when you're standing next to it, like Tarzan's Jane or something."

I smiled. I'd been thinking about Tarzan recently, one night when I was climbing all over Volleyballs. He sort of reminded me of a jungle man, so big and so strong, with a cock that, when it was in me, always made me want to do Tarzan's yodel-like yell.

His deep voice and big crooked nose always made me think of a primitive man, too. I loved hearing him call out my name when I had his hard veiny cock deep down my throat. At first it was hard to get down, but the crazy crooked curve of it worked in my favor when we were in sixty-nine position. I got so I could take it right down after getting it nice and slippery. Doing it in a more traditional position, with him standing and me down on my knees, was more of a challenge. I had to sort of squat and tip my head forward and to the side, and then it would go down. It felt almost like an athletic maneuver, like sexual gymnastics or something. I was always proud of myself for conquering it, and Volleyballs was thrilled every time.

I think my favorite way with him was when I was on my back on my bed, him standing on the floor, my knees up in his hands and his cock sliding in and out of my happy pussy. I loved being able to see the big monstrous thing, and his big, sweaty athlete's body, too. I talked to him while we were doing it like that, my voice breathless and strained, telling him how big he was and how deep he was, and telling him when I was about to cum. His deep voice bellowed every time I came, not because he was coming, just from the beauty of it I guess.

One night, when he was fucking me doggy style, he said he wished he could see my tits when we were in that position. I tried to angle a little table-top mirror for him; it was fun, but it wasn't very satisfactory. It got me thinking, so the next day I went to the local hardware store and they sent me to a glass supply company. I explained what I wanted. It turned out to be expensive, but I knew I wanted it and I knew my boys would enjoy it. A week later two workmen showed up at my house with it — a big heavy mirror, five feet wide and four feet high, made out of tempered glass so it's nice and strong. The men were surprised when I showed them where I wanted it, right at the head of my bed where a headboard would normally go. It's a beautiful, shiny thing, and it makes the room look brighter and bigger. Volleyballs was the first boy to enjoy it with me, doggy style, a little ways away from it. I was able to watch his face as he watched my breasts swing beneath me, and I could see his big cock, all shiny as it fucked me. He kept telling me how amazing I looked. It was one of the most exciting orgasms I can remember.

—

September was winding down and it was time to start cleaning up the garden for winter, cutting back perennials and digging up annuals that had done their thing. I was hot and heavy with Volleyballs and didn't really need anything more for the time being, but a cute boy had smiled at me and said hello a few times, and after reading this far you know how that goes.

One day when he said hello I mentioned how nice the weather was and he stopped to chat for a few minutes, asking me about the Colocasia plant. I told him about its jungle origins and that I'd be cutting it back and bringing it inside as soon as frost killed off its big leaves.

A few days later I saw him again. I'd been right down in the dirt in my little low-cut t-shirt, my flannel shirt long discarded, the warmth of the early Autumn sun making the dirt stick to me.

"You always seem to catch me when I'm filthy," I said. "Good timing, though, I've had enough. Wanna hold the hose for me while I wash up?"

"Sure," he said, smiling, his blonde hair shining in the sunlight.

He walked inside the gate and I led him around to the side of my little red house, where I keep the hose coiled up on a rack.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked, rubbing my dirty hands together under the flowing water.

"No," he said. He looked disappointed.

"Not back home either?"

"No."

I asked him to hold the hose higher, so I could rinse my arms. He was careful with it, holding it fairly still while his blue eyes made quick glances at my breasts. I wasn't surprised he was looking there, because my nipples were aroused and my little shirt showed lots of cleavage. I decide to make his daydream come true, splashing some water back at myself, taking two handfuls of it to my upper chest, using my fingers to clean up the dirt that was there. Of course my little shirt, already damp with sweat, got quite wet.

"I'm so dirty. I could use a shower."

It was a quick transition — my wet shirt wetter, my spiel about the athletic director's wife, my excitement about bringing a boy into my house in the daytime, our disrobing, the warm water of the shower.

He's my blonde-haired wrestler, 174 pound weight class, seemingly all of it beautiful muscle. He looked amazing with soapy bubbles all over him, and his cock tasted fresh and clean. I swallowed his salty cum and dried him with a towel. We had to be quick because he was late for practice, but he came back at 10 PM that night, knocking softly on my back door.

His cock was extra hard, the way boy's cocks are, and he took me the first time up against the mirror, my sweaty hands on it for support, his smoothly rippled body behind me, his excited face watching the view in the mirror from over my shoulder. It was a wonderful view, and I was watching it, too - his hands trying to squeeze the entirety of my big breasts, my nipples hard between his fingers, the look of orgasmic ecstasy on his face when his cock pulsed and throbbed deep inside me. He measured a nice, girthy six inches. I pushed him down and rode him, and I watched us both in the mirror, my orgasm accompanied by a much too loud cry I couldn't keep down. I hope the neighbors heard it.

—

September is a time of transition in the garden. The summer color has faded and leaves have lost some of their brilliant green. Quite a few plants take on a golden tinge, as if they're happy with the display they've made and they're out for a drink with their friends in the warm light of a friendly barroom. I know my Colocasia has made lots of friends, even in the early Autumn with its big, eye-catching leaves starting to lose some of their vibrant glory. The boys don't seem to mind. They admire it's youthful spirit and the way it stands tall for them, proudly displaying it's nature, showing off the beauty that comes with maturity. And anyway, the leaves are just so nice and big and touchable. Boys seem to like them that way.