Toyboy Teamsters

See how three single women re-invigorate their sex lives by combining their efforts. is any man safe Divorced some six months ago Miranda is left to bring up two kids and has led a pretty restricted life sexually as a consequence. However a chance encounter with a young neighbour kicks in her libido and prompted by her inner demon, which she's nicknamed 'frisky,' she is suddenly desperate to get some fun back in her life. Enter her two workmates, Janine and Casey who have already solved that problem by teaming up as the 'TOYBOY TEAMSTERS.' They invite young horny college guys to their wild private parties, guys who will give them what they need and lots of it. Miranda finds herself drawn into this new lifestyle and when her children are back with their father at weekends, she throws herself into the fray. This is the story of three; thirty year old women who appreciate the sexual prowess and stamina that only young men can give them and who don't hold back for a moment to get it.

Miranda curses as she races around the house; her voice rising as she urges her two kids to hurry with their breakfast. She is running late and her two young children aren’t helping as they bicker over some silly, inconsequential problem. She rushes out of her bedroom, half dressed, her skirt still unzipped, her blouse only half buttoned up. “Quiet. Now eat, get to it,” she cries and both kids turned to stare, then began giggling as her loose skirt starts to slide down over her hips. Miranda grabs for it, struggles to tug it back into position, then glares at the pair and points warningly. Returning to her room she finishes dressing, decides that another hot day means no pantyhose and then quickly brushes her dark hair before putting it up into a pony tail. ‘Thank god he’s got the kids this weekend,’ she thinks to herself as she checks herself out in the mirror, smooths her blouse down over her breasts, yes the one’s she’s always considered a little too large, though they come in handy when she wants to impress some guy or other, not that she’s been in a position to do that of late. “What fucking guys,” she mutters deciding that her make-up can wait until she gets to work. It has been awhile since any guys have got into her panties. ‘Too damn long,’ mutters frisky; the little mischievous she-devil in her head. “Ok let’s go, got your stuff, bags, lunch bucket’s, Tommy, move it mister, hup, hup, hup, two three!” The kids giggle as they run out through the door and jump into the car. Miranda climbs in the front, checks her rear view mirror and stares in disbelief as some jerk on a motor cycle rolls into the space behind her to block her in. She hits the horn hard and he stares her way, well probably he does because he is wearing one of those crash helmets, the tinted visor sort, so she can’t see him clearly. She hits the horn again; a long note of frustration and what does he do? He kicks down the prop stand, climbs off the bike and walks around to her side off the car. Miranda hits the window release, turns to one side and waves her hands around in a furious, unintelligible way before banging her head on the steering wheel. “Hey lady, what’s up?” “What’s up? What’s up? I need to get out. Can you please move that thing, I’m late with my kids for school you moron!” He releases the clasp on his crash helmet and then pulls it off and for all her anger, someone in her head goes and says, ‘oh fuck, he’s gorgeous,’ that is Frisky talking. He stares at her for a few moments and that stare, those piercing blue eyes, square cut chin, mouth that breaks into a smile hits her where it matters, right between her thighs. The hot spot, the area that has been neglected for so long by any man suddenly gives her one hell of a message, and that message screams out just one thing.