Mrs. O’Reilly’s Laundry Day

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Irene O’Reilly was working up a good sweat on her daily five-mile run through town. The 61-year-old white-haired beauty loved her runs, particularly on Saturday when she could take her time and not worry about rushing to work as a school principal.

She was tall, five-eight, willowy at an athletic 130 pounds, all arms and legs pumping swiftly as she ran the streets of her small town, that silvery hair pulled back into a ponytail tucked under a ball cap, tight school t-shirt on her sexy torso, her sagging but sexy boobs held up in sports bra beneath, a pair of mid-thigh green running shorts on, which showed off her remarkably muscular legs for a woman her age, tanned and sinewy, flexing as she ran.

She raced down her street at the end of her run, stretching on the front walk before going into the house, where the widow woman lived alone. She looked at her watch: 9 a.m. In an hour, her pretty young assistant, Jamie, was due to come by with some papers that needed her attention. Just enough time, she thought to herself.

Saturday was her laundry day, a day she looked forward to all week. She went to her laundry room, piled in clothes to the washing machine, and stripped off her sweaty, stinky clothes, peeling off the top and bra, feeling the coolness of the air-conditioned house on her boobs, creamy white and smooth, tanned flesh beneath and above. She stuffed it all into the wash and stood naked now in the tiny laundry room, hitting the switch — and waiting.

Her machine wasn’t terribly new, she couldn’t really afford one and didn’t want to. When the older machine hit spin, it would vibrate something terrible — and wonderful. She waited, patiently for the laundry to cycle through, fingering her sopping wet gray-haired bush, lifting one tit then the other to her mouth, tilting her head down, to suckle the thick, wrinkled brown nipples.

“Oh God, it’s been so long,” she hissed to herself, digging two fingers into her hairy pussy, imbedding them to the palm in her soaked hole. “So long…”

She meant not only since the last laundry day but since the last time she’d had any sexual contact at all. Her husband died five years ago, the only man she’d ever had sex with, and though she’d dated occasionally, nothing ever led to sex, try as she might. Her paramours were all older than she, it seemed, none of them interested in sex with the still hot-blooded principal. She tried other avenues, going out to meet men, younger men, but nothing panned out and besides, she was too shy to initiate anything.

So every Saturday for some time now, since that one morning she leaned on the corner of the madly vibrating machine to get something off a shelf and felt the jolt of surging sexual power connect with her pussy, she’d made this a ritual: Wake up, run, get naked and use her throbbing appliance for her pleasure.

At first she felt perverse, as if it were the most horrible thing a woman of her age and stature in the community could do. And then because of that, it felt wonderful, as if picking forbidden fruit and eating it while no one else was watching.

The spin cycle came. She walked to the corner of the machine at hip level, and fit her warm, wet cunt to the smooth, shiny white corner of it, feeling the first incredible surge of its never disappointing vibration overcome her. She came quickly and she came hard, her entire body shaking with the effort, as she madly hunched her hips forward, cupping her saggy, wonderfully wrinkled ass cheeks as she did, watching it in a floor-length mirror nearby she’d leaned against the wall strictly for that purpose.

Her ass was superb, small, muscular even for her age, well shaped, and creased by the wrinkles and sexy folds of woman 61 years old, but she liked the look, the feel, the smell. As she came over and over, thighs quivering as she pushed into her sex machine with rapidly mounting fervor, she slipped a finger into her tight asshole, antalya escort plunging it in and out, and as the spin cycle spun to a stop, pulled the finger out to lick it clean.

She quickly returned the machine to spin, resuming her position, sucking that nasty finger like a small cock. She never felt so deliciously naughty.

And neither did Jamie. The 22-year-old assistant stood in the doorway watching her boss, her incredibly sexy, lean and strong boss, humping the machine like a woman possessed. She’d misread her appointment schedule and had arrived at Mrs. O’Reilly’s house a half-hour early, knocking, calling out, getting no response.

Now she knew why. She’d come in the unlocked door, heard the machine down the hall, walked to it and peered in, getting the shock of her life. And the most unmistakable surge of sexual energy ever, as she watched the older woman’s incredibly sexy ass, a marvelous patchwork of wrinkles and folds, hunching around the finger plunging within.

She watched as her boss finally stopped cumming, licking the finger and hitting spin again, returning her hungry cunt to the mechanized task. And she watched as their eyes locked in the mirror as Jamie stood transfixed in the doorway.

“JAMIE!” Irene gasped, spinning around, leaning back on the vibrating machine, her tits jiggling madly, thighs quaking. “I…I…!”

Jamie was Mrs. O’Reilly’s underling, always acquiescing to her boss’s demands. She could be tough, and often was, demanding much from the people she worked for. She had a reputation as a no-nonsense type, and was hard on her employees, including young Jamie, whom she viewed as marginally capable, judging her more harshly than the others owing to her youth and inexperience.

Now she stood, clearly in the dominant position, watching with satisfaction her boss tremble and desperately try to cover herself up. Irene looked away from Jamie’s glare, then noticed something she had in her hand, besides the sheaf of papers she’d brought along.

Her cell phone.

“Well now, isn’t this interesting,” snarled Jamie, a skinny, pretty short-haired brunette in tight jeans and t-shirt as she walked slowly toward the cowering principal, lifting the cell phone up for her to stare at. “Now what should I do with the photos I just took of our school leader fucking her washing machine! Should I show them to our superintendent?”

Irene could only shake her head, eyes begging for another option, mouth open in shock and shame.

“Or do I delete them..if you do what you’re told,” she hissed, stepping closer.

“Yes, delete them, please, anything, Jamie, I’ll do….”

She never saw it coming, the vicious, across-the-face slap of her angry underling. Her head snapped left and then back to look at the smiling bitch.

“That’s Mistress Jamie,” she barked. “Say it…”

Irene could only stare, her body still jiggling against the machine, feeling none of its usual good vibration, caught up in the shame and horror of the moment.

The hand came up again, backhanding her teary-eyed face the other way.

“SAY IT!”

“MISTRESS JAMIE!!! PLEASE MISTRESS JAMIE!”

The torch had been passed, superior now the subordinate and the other way around. In that flash, both knew it. Jamie smiled. Irene did not.

And both were caught up in the undeniable sexual electricity surging between them because of it.

“Now then, bitch,” Jamie said, putting her papers and cell phone on a nearby table, then grabbing Irene’s sweaty hair and spinning her around to jam her hairy cunt to the spinning machine. “Let’s see how many times we can make that nasty old cunt cum!”

She rammed her crotch into Irene’s quivering, wrinkled ass, pressing her fully into the machine, Irene’s cunt opening up, the engorged clit hard on the corner of it, the vibration sending mad sheets of pleasure and pain through her GILF body as Jamie lara escort wrapped her arms around her, twisting those thick, brown nipples, pulling them hard.

“Cum, bitch, cum,” she snarled, biting Irene’s shoulder, then licking them, running her hot tongue up to the back of her neck, tasting the sexy sweat, lapping around the sides to suckle her wrinkled throat flesh, sucking it into her mouth. “Cum….”

Irene did, screaming in pleasure from the machine and sheer humiliation of being so easily dominated by a mere girl, an underling, two-thirds younger than she. Her cunt gushed juice all over the machine and down the fronts of her quivering quads as Jamie pressed into her harder, tweaking those fat nipples until it hurt.

“Again,” Jamie hissed, pumping her own cunt into Irene’s quaking ass flesh, benefitting from the machine’s vibrations as well.

Irene moaned, her pussy raw and sensitive, but came again, hard against the machine, her legs weak, her body wanting to fall to the floor, but being held up by the persistent girl pumping her ass.

“Again,” Jamie growled, reaching down with both hands to spread Irene’s cunt lips, forcing the clit against the machine, feeling Irene’s pussy juices flow over her fingers.

On and on it went, Irene delirious in pleasure and pain, her cunt insanely sensitive from the pounding machine, which at one point stopped only to be started again as Jamie reached to twist the dial with one hand as she twisted Irene’s aging, agonized nipples in the other. The machine resumed its relentless spin cycle and now Jamie ran her hand between them, ramming three fingers knuckles deep into Irene’s asshole, making her boss scream louder as she came again on the thrashing washer.

“Smell that, bitch,” Jamie laughed darkly, pulling her fingers out and rubbing them on Irene’s crying face, and then into her mouth. “Suck that shit off my fingers, clean that ass filth!”

Irene did, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she relished the taste and raw, ripe smell of her own asshole, Jamie pumping her cunt into her butt. The younger girl finally pulled back, grabbed Irene’s hair and forced her to her knees, facing the machine, which spun slowly to a stop. She looked at the thick cum coating the corner, running down the sides.

“Clean that, bitch,” Jamie snarled. “Lick that filthy cum up!”

Irene obeyed, slavishly lapping her cunt juice from the corner of the machine, then down the sides, savoring the funk, Jamie’s hand tight in her hair. With the other hand, she unsnapped her jeans.

“Ever tasted someone else’s cunt, cunt?” she cooed, peeling off all her clothes, revealing her skinny but shapely young body and tits half the size of Irene’s, firm and perky.

Irene shook her head slowly side to side, looking down, ashamed. She never had, but always wanted to, figuring that by this late in life, she’d never get the chance. Not only was she getting it now, it was being forced upon her, a scenario that she’d never dared even dream about.

Jamie hit spin again, reaching around Irene, pushing her back to the machine to do it, the older woman’s ass spreading on the corner, the vibrating edge firmly inside her asshole. She gasped at the intrusion; she’d never explored that option before, and she pushed back on her own now, anxious to ass fuck her washer, wanting to take the whole madly vibrating thing up her ass.

Jamie wrapped her arms around her boss’s trembling body, kissing her wet, deep, forcing her tongue inside the wrinkled pucker of her lips and making her suck it like a small, wet cock. Then she sucked Irene’s tongue into her mouth, stretching it fully, fellating it, her eyes open and confident, staring directly into Irene’s uncertain, sexually clouded ones.

“Suck my tits!” Jamie said, pulling her mouth from Irene’s with a wet slurp, pushing her head down. “Suck my girl tits!”

Irene manavgat escort was wild with passion now, hunching her open asshole back into the machine, lapping madly down Jamie’s taut young neck and chest and fastening her sucking mouth to first one nipple, then the other, lavishing it with her tongue, holding onto Jamie’s tight young ass, kneading the supple flesh, feeling the tense muscle beneath silky skin.

Jamie moaned, fingering her clean-shaven slit as her old boss made oral love to her hot young tits. She pushed Irene’s head down her taut belly and standing back on spread feet, forced her face into the oily gash framed by her sinewy young thighs.

“Eat me, bitch!” she barked, pulling Irene by the ponytail and mashing her moaning mouth to her quim.

Irene came herself as she bent at the waist, her asshole still attached to the pounding washer, slobbering wetly over her first pussy, licking up and down the salty, wet lips and then sucking them into her puckered mouth, lavishing the clit with long, wet strokes before suckling on it like a small, wet nipple. Jamie moaned at the neophyte’s expert tongue in her cunt, holding her by the ears now, thrusting her pussy into that old, madly sucking mouth.

“Gotta get me some of that,” Jamie snarled, pushing Irene away from the machine and sitting on the wet corner, legs open wide, pussy gaping lewdly at Irene’s heavy-lidded stare.

Jamie hit spin again and sat on the machine, feeling its heavy, rapid lurching under her milky young ass, scissoring Irene’s neck in her calves and reeling the kneeling woman to her pussy, fastening her muscular young thighs around her face, holding her probing, sucking mouth to her gushing pussy. Irene lapped and licked and palmed the rugged young woman’s athletic thighs that crushed her face, relishing the submissive nature of the hold, feeling Jamie’s pussy flood her face, those legs quivering violently around it from the vibration of the machine and the forceful orgasm wracking her young body.

When her orgasm abated, Jamie unlocked her young legs from Irene’s panting face, spinning around to lean over the machine, her tender young nipples pressed to the vibrating surface, reaching back to spread her muscular ass cheeks, the pink pucker of her asshole winking at the principal.

“Eat ass, bitch,” Jamie snarled over a shoulder.

“Yes, Mistress Jamie!” Irene panted sincerely, diving face first into her assistant’s eager young ass flesh.

She held the cheeks apart with her own hands, burrowing her face in the meat as deeply as possibly, drilling her tongue into the tight pucker of Jamie’s shit hole, devouring the smell, the taste, the depraved sensation of oralizing the gorgeous young woman’s ass. Jamie groaned, standing straight, ramming her cunt into the corner of the machine to take full advantage of the crazy vibration, her ass cheeks folding around Irene’s slavishly licking face, pinching it inside, depriving her of air. Irene fought to breathe, not caring if she could, inhaling the sweaty vapors of her assistant’s madly clenching ass, the muscular young flesh vibrating around it like a fleshy wave, driven by her own orgasm and the pounding corner of the washing machine.

The machine finally spun to a stop, with Irene’s adoring old face still buried in Jamie’s hot young ass, slobbering over the tight hold. Jamie finally shook Irene’s face away, turning to stand the old woman up to face her. She drew her tight in her arms, cupping Irene’s old, saggy and incredibly sexy ass in her hands as Irene did the same to her young rump, Irene enjoying Jamie’s long, soulful kiss.

“Tell me, slave boss,” Jamie growled, sucking at Irene’s neck meat, lapping the salty folds of sexy flesh. “Is every Saturday laundry day for you?”

“Yes,” Irene groaned, lifting her head to allow Jamie’s sucking access to her hypersensitive throat.

“Wrong,” Jamie giggled, licking away. “Every Saturday is laundry day for US! And any other fucking day I want? Got that?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Mistress Jamie,” Irene moaned, as Jamie pushed her shoulders down, forcing the older woman to her knees before the younger one’s glistening cunt. “Yes…yes…yes….”

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