“Oh God!” I cried. “I never knew this could be so much fun. Fuck my ass, please fuck me.” Rahul obliged my by pumping his cock in and out of my rectum. I thrust my hip backward to meet his cadenced pounding. Initially, his rhythm was slow and he fucked my ass in a subtle way, probably afraid to hurt my ass. However, soon he realized that I was enjoying his hammering and he increased his tempo. I was raving with the pleasure, my son’s brutal thrusting were imparting into my body. My hips were continuously pumping back as my son’s pelvis moved forward. I could feel my anal muscles expanding and contracting every other second under his ruthless poundings. I had lost control over my emotion, and with every thrust, I was yelling loudly; hoping that neighbors would not listen my passionate shrieks under the hum of their air-conditioners. My pussy was flowing like an open canal. Rahul’s fingers were boring into the flesh of my hips. His poundings were reaching to a crescendo. I could feel. There was no one there she’d ever care to have around at her place. She tried to imagine someone like Jim around. He had seemed to be quite nice. But if he was he’d probably not want to see her ever again, let alone talk to her. She shrugged her shoulders. Life seemed difficult. She wondered what it would be like to find a normal job, she’d miss the money, she supposed. On the other hand, could she go on for years and years? Who’d want to look at an old woman have sex with some smooth unfeeling youngster, and what would it be like when your partner felt physically repulsed by you? Over the next few months she found herself more and more disgruntled with her work. She tried to tell herself it was only a job, but the satisfaction she’d got out of it in the past was missing somehow. Her feelings of dissatisfaction with her job and her life in general made her try and find a regular friend. She went to discotheques and bars and once or twice picked someone up, but she didn’t have too.
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