"Tod please," she whimpered, trying to squirm out of his embrace. "I'm married. I'm way too old for you. This is just ridiculous. Please, let me go."

He ignored her protests and kissed her again.

Vicky moaned as his mouth clamped onto hers and his slick tongue slid again between her lips. She wanted him so much, she didn't know how much longer she could hold out. Her vagina felt red-hot with need, and it was beginning to cream heavily, moistening the crotch of her panties.

Oh, damn you, Biff, she thought, why didn't you take better care of me? This is your fault…

She knew she should get rough-scream, claw, kick. Let the kid know definitely that he couldn't ball the coach's wife. But all she did was lean back limp against the couch, panting and whimpering, while Tod kissed and pawed her. Her conscience screamed at her that this was all wrong, but her seething hungry pussy screamed yes, YES…

Tod suddenly ripped her blouse right down the middle.

Vicky gasped, but before she could do anything else, the panting boy had ripped open her bra, too, exposing her naked breasts. Vicky's stare was one of horror, Tod's one of wonder and delight.

"Oh, Christ," he said breathlessly, "you've got the mast beautiful tits I ever saw…"

He wasn't exaggerating. They were dream tits, Playboy tits, like he'd never imagined existed in real life. There was speculation in the locker room that Mm. Benson's great jutting breasts just had to be padded or somehow faked, that no mortal woman could have boobs that big and well-shaped. But Tod was seeing the real thing for himself, and there was no fakery about it.

Her mountainous breasts were like great swollen creamy melons with large light-pink nipples. They rode high and firm, with not a wrinkle or a sag, still ripe with youth and perfectly formed. Each tit was as big as his head. It was like his every erotic fantasy come true…

"Oh, Jesus," he moaned.