She'd came onto me in the bar used her womanly wilds to trap me, spoke of sexual wonders that she would preform for me if I agreed to do something for...her. I wanted her so badly that I agreed to her terms, even though at the time I didn't know what they were. Then she brought me home and said that if I fucked her useless sissy husband with his mini cock then my reward was her body to use in anyway I saw fit.That sexy body had made me do what she asked and I fucked her husband long, hard and. Now back in 1978 that was pretty good money, no boss but myself , an old Singer Gazelle with a replaced and yet unpainted front wing..probably worth a fortune now but it had the effect of making me look like Hard luck Harry.. and it got me around so it did its job.. I never thought it got me more work due to looking like a struggler but seems it did. There was a whole estate in the shape of a horseshoe and even though I only charged 75p per house .. Oh how times change ..would be most likely. "Out!" she ordered as she pointed to the spot next to her. Okay. Okay. I get the message. As I stepped past her, I noticed she glanced down at my rapidly expanding dick. She grabbed a towel from the handrail and put it on the floor between us as I stood there shivering and looking like a drowned rat."But Mom," I whined, "I'm soaking wet!" It was then I saw she had the measuring beaker in her left hand which she placed next to her on the floor."Enough, Henry Peterson," she scolded, "You know the. "Don't I know it," she laughed, "but...well, we're friends, right Ian?We've been chatting together for, like, two years, right?"I nodded again."I just thought we should meet," she went on, tugging at her hair.Suddenly, I could tell she felt a bit nervous herself, as if she'd hadsome grand plan but it was starting to feel like a big mistake."Especially after--well, you know. Everything we do."We both blushed and examined the table with furious curiosity. Neitherof us spoke for long moments. I.