Jeremy was our only son and a quiet, bookish boy. I had insisted he went to the local grammar school, rather than his father’s boarding school, where I knew he would have been miserable. My husband, who had long since given up trying for a second child, was cross, but accepted it; his focus, as always, was soon back on his all-consuming work.

My friends assure me I am still a very attractive woman. I keep fit, swimming in our pool and on the running machine in the gym. It is a matter of personal pride, rather than my husband’s interest in me, which appears to be minimal.

I had been delighted if a little surprised when Jeremy had struck up a relationship with Mikey, a young man of Jamaican heritage who had played in the school’s rugby team. The two made an unlikely pair but seemed to enjoy each other’s company, moving on from school to the same university together.

One afternoon during the summer holidays, whilst they played computer games, I was sunbathing and reading by the pool, dressed in a pink bikini and sunglasses.

Some time later, Jeremy and Mikey came out for a swim. As they mucked around in the water, I saw Mikey eyeing me up. Flattered, but slightly flustered, I hastily returned to my book.

After a while, Jeremy came across to explain that he needed to drop off a music assignment with his violin tutor, and would it be OK if Mikey stayed here until he got back - it would be an hour or so, but no more than that. Thinking little of it, I agreed, and Jeremy went off to change and drive to his tutor’s house.

Engrossed in my book, I reached for the suntan lotion and began to apply it to my arms.  Almost immediately, I heard the sound of water displacing, and glanced over to see Mikey haul himself from the pool and walk toward me.

“Let me help you with that, Mrs C,” he suggested, taking the bottle from my hand. My heart fluttered as he began to gently rub the lotion into my shoulders, and then worked his way down my back. As he did so, I felt his fingers untying the strings on my bikini top.

“I’m not sure that’s necessary, Mikey.”

“Best to be thorough, Mrs C,” Mikey replied, his fingers reaching under me and onto my breasts.

“Mikey, you really shouldn’t touch me there,” I said, more firmly than I was feeling.

“Need to make sure that delicate pale skin of yours doesn’t burn, Mrs C,” he murmured, his hands running back down over my bum and then sliding between my legs, gently teasing all the way up my inner thigh.

“Please, no, this is wrong,” I protested weakly, as his finger eased into my moistening pussy.

Despite myself, my legs parted slightly and I caught my breath. “Seems please, no, means please, yes, Mrs C,” he chuckled.

“Mikey, I am a married woman,” I said in a small voice.

Ignoring my half-hearted objection, he increased the pace with which his finger slid in and out of my pussy, causing me to bite my lip and push reflexively against his hand.

“When was the last time your husband did this to you, Mrs C.”

“He doesn’t,” I whispered, my fingers gripping the sides of the sun lounger, and my legs spreading in response to him frigging me harder now.

“Does he fuck you at all, Mrs C,” Mikey questioned, whilst pushing a second finger into my now soaking quim, and reaching around to fondle my breasts.

“No, he doesn’t,” I moaned, in a mix of frustration and lust.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Mrs C,” he continued, his fingers deep inside me.

“Yes,” I nodded, unable to look at him.

“Tell me you want my cock in your married cunt,” he demanded.

“Yes, I want it,” I agreed, trembling.

“No. Tell me you want my cock in your married cunt,” he growled.

Using words I had never uttered before, I whispered, “yes, I want your cock in my married cunt.”

“Good,” Mikey confirmed, sliding my bikini bottoms down. Confidently, he lifted me onto my knees and pushed my head back down onto the lounger, so that my bum was sticking up in the air.

I heard him pull down his wet swimming trunks, and felt him position himself behind me. Then, his hand on the small of my back, he pushed the bulbous head of his member against my pussy; its sheer size was a shock, causing me to whimper in trepidation and anticipation.

“Please be gentle,” I begged, wincing as I felt his thick cock slide into my tight little hole.

By way of response, Mikey gripped my hips and pushed his cock fully home, then pulled back and pushed it home again. And then again, and again.

“Please, Mikey…” I screamed in pain and pleasure, his latest thrust causing me to break off mid-sentence.

“Was that you asking me to fuck your little white cunt harder with my black cock, Mrs C?” he panted, pulling my hips back towards him.

Wailing, I thrashed on his cock, which was pounding into me harder and faster now. His hand grabbed a fistful of hair; he tugged my head back in time with his thrusts deep into my pussy. Suddenly, with an animal cry, I lost all control and came hard all over his dick.

Not done with me yet, he continued to drive into me, whilst I screamed and orgasmed repeatedly as he used me. Finally, he stopped and allowed me to flop down, spent. Sobbing for breath, I felt him pull out of me.

Looking up, still on all fours on the lounger, I saw his throbbing manhood in front of me. Without a word, Mikey steered my mouth onto his length and, his hands holding the back of my head, began to plunge it rapidly in and out of my face. Then, with a low groan, he stiffened and a gush of salty white mess hit the back of my throat.

Slowly, he released me and stood panting; looking at me as his cum dribbled from my mouth.

“Next time, I will be slower and gentler,” he smiled.

“Oh no, Mikey,” I mumbled, swallowing, “next time, I want you to fuck me even harder.”

He grinned and, wiping some sticky mess from my face and placing the finger in my mouth for me to lick, replied, “in which case, perhaps I will bring some friends.”