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Call me a pervert, but seeing those silver (or pink and even blue) haired grannies puffing along was mildly erotic. Watching their perpetually flat chests and crooked figures d****d in floral housecoats, I often had masturbated in the same shed I found myself cleaning. The Arizona sunset seemed, if truth be told, to highlight the blue veins visible on their scrawny white stocking covered legs as they chugged around the specially constructed ring. With each slow stroke, the floor of Ms Ellen’s shed had repeatedly become slick with precum while I slowly worked my way through the appetizer of elder flesh surrounding me. The main course however, when I would invariably lose my load, was when the overweight women would take their turns power-walking on the track; after the sun had set but while there was still light to see. These were still women, not hags, like before. These women had curves, Dr. Deidre among them. Their stupendous figures would sway enticingly as sweat trickled. With the flat edge of the machete, he tilted my chin upwards so that I could see the blank, cold mask hanging over me.Matt took another picture. And another.My heart was hammering, pulsing in my throat and between my legs, my clit achingly alive and demanding attention.Still looking up, my face a mix of awe and lust, my lips brushed his shaft. I pressed against his iron flesh, kissing one of the thick veins that supported this beast.More shutter snaps from Matt. A quick, excited burst.I turned my face slightly so that I could look into his lens, staring both at my husband and the eventual viewer of these photos as Jason Vorhees powerful hand entwined in my hair and guided my mouth along his length, leaving dusky pink traces of lipstick on his skin.When I reached the tip, Jason turned his hips towards me, pressing his cockhead into my mouth, bulging my cheek.“Shit!” Matt said, and for a moment, I thought that he was going to call everything off, but when I looked, he was fumbling.
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