It was many years ago, and me and my mate Gaz were at the football. (They still had terracings in those days, which shows you how long ago it was.) At the very back of the terracing at one end of the ground was the pie stall, run by a woman in her mid-40s. Not what you'd call a looker - short, fat and plain, though she did have the most enormous pair of knockers, so fair dos to her. Gaz and me, typical 16 year old lads, did a lot of nodding and winking about those tits, while agreeing that she was a boiler and not really worth our attention. Until the day all that changed. Half-time had come and gone, we'd had our pies and, as it happens, we'd finished off the last of the bevvy we'd sneaked into the ground. We needed a piss badly - as you do - and the toilet at our end of the ground was the usual overflowing, disgusting swamp, having borne the brunt of the mass half-time invasion of several thousand bursting bladders. Not wishing to wade into the sea of urine, we went behind the pie-stall and pissed against the back wall of the stadium. I heard a noise behind me and when I looked over my shoulder I saw the pie-stall woman looking at us from a little window in the back of her hut. I'd like to report that she was spying on me but, truth be told, her eyes were glued to my mate. See, the thing about Gaz is, he's only a little guy, but he's got this gigantic todger, right? The proverbial baby's arm. And she'd evidently copped a glimpse of it. I started to stammer out an explanation to Gaz of what I'd seen, but before I could finish the sentence she appeared round the side of the hut, with a face like thunder. "Look, you two," she said, "I run a food stall here, right? And I don't appreciate boys peeing round the back of my stall." I opened my mouth to blurt out some kind of apology, but Gaz - he always was a forward little bastard - looked her straight in the eye and said: "Oh yeah? Didn't stop you looking at my cock, though, did it? And I bet you appreciated that." Eyes narrowing, she said: "Listen, sonny, I wasn't looking at anything you've got. All I saw was two dirty little lads pissing against a wall." Well, red rag to a bull, that was. Gaz smiled and said: "Missed it, did you? Here you go, then, Missus, have a good look now." And with that he unzipped his trousers, lifted out his hosepipe and hefted it towards her. I muttered "Gaz, for fuck's sake, put it away, we'll get arrested." But then I noticed that she couldn't take her eyes off his prick, and she was actually licking her lips, for Christ's sake. Gaz didn't hesitate for a second. When he saw what I saw, he moved right in there, putting his hands on her shoulders and pushing her roughly against the back wall. Without a word he pulled up her jumper, slipped his fingers under her bra cups and shoved it up around her neck, letting those glorious tits fall out. It has to be said, they hung down all the way to her belly, but jesus they were so full and so huge ... and they were THERE, real and visible and available to Gaz's hands, which were soon busy kneading and pinching and squeezing. After a minute or so he hiked her skirt up to her waist and pulled her tights and knickers down to her knees, revealing her dark bush. His fingers were soon active there too, and I saw that her hand was stroking his cock, which by this time was fully erect and bigger than anything I'd ever seen in any of my wank-mags. He muttered something to her which I didn't catch, and she spread her legs as far as the tights would allow. Gaz took his cock in his right hand, guided it between her legs and rammed it home all the way, with no preamble. She gasped in shock and her eyes widened as his enormous prick slid into her fanny, and her arms went round his neck as he started to fuck her hard and fast against the wall. I slipped out my own cock - sadly and painfully inadequate by comparison with Gaz's - and started to wank as I watched them fuck, with the roar of the crowd in the background as the action raged on the field behind us. I watched my mate's arse piston backwards and forwards and I watched the expression on the woman's face as she leant back against the wall, pinned there by this huge piece of meat ramming in and out of her fanny. As his climax approached, Gaz gripped the woman's arse cheeks in both hands and then grunted in satisfaction as he pumped his load into her. When he'd emptied himself he immediately withdrew, tucked his cock away and zipped himself up, leaving the woman still gasping and exposed against the wall. I was still wanking away, and I thought, well, why not? A ride's a ride, right? So I moved forward until I was between her legs and guided my cock to her wide open, dripping fanny. The woman didn't say a word, and offered neither encouragement nor protest as I shoved my prick into her. After Gaz it was like throwing a sausage up a close, but it was a real, live woman and her fanny was hot and wet and at 16 I hadn't had enough action to justify being choosy, so I gave it my best shot. I took one huge breast in each hand and thrust away for all I was worth, and approximately 30 seconds later my cock started twitching and coiling and I blew my spunk inside her. I zipped up and when we turned away to go back to the match the woman was only just hauling up her knickers and tights. Her breasts were still exposed and there was an unfathomable, almost vacant expression on her face. As we rejoined the crowd at the top of the terracing, the only thing I could think to say to Gaz was: "What's the score?" He looked at me with a grin. "One each, pal," he said as he punched my shoulder. "Fucking one each!"