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Liz's Hot Afternoons | amativissimus | 2

 

She was bored, and it had been too long since her not-so-little blue gel friend had given her what her hubby no longer did! She quickly stripped down, and rubbed her lips with a bit of extra lube, just to be on the safe side. A couple of licks for good measure (how long since she'd had a *real* one of these at her lips), and *SLURP* in it went.

That sensation was so sweet, she couldn't imagine why she'd gone so long without it. The fullness, the stretching as her hole was filled... what a delight! Only one thing more was needed. She got out the lube, and coated the vibrator a bit more conscientiously. Aware of the slutty picture she must present, she rolled her legs back to display her entire groin to an uncaring bedroom suite. (Tom's idea of a birthday present; Mr. Romance strikes again!)

With a wicked grin, she rubbed the tip of the vibe teasingly around the circumference of her itching bunghole. Oohh, the tingle! This always felt extra-good because it was such a *nasty* thing for a respectable housewife to do. Gradually, she circled in on her puckered target, and slid it into her ass with a smooth, continuous motion. Once she had re-accustomed herself to the stretching of the tissues back there, she began to churn it in and out of her ass, in harmony with the blue gel dildo. As her climax approached, she grinned wickedly to herself, and slid her finger over to the vibrator's switch, just as she began an "in" cycle.

OOPS! SUNNAVABITCH! She'd forgotten which direction the switch worked, and had just turned the vibrator up to FULL as it plummeted into the depths of her anus. The sensations left her weak and quivering on her back; she couldn't even get up the energy to reach in and pull the damned thing out, but just lay there, attacked by a series of hot, nasty orgasms that left her feeble as a kitten. All she could do was slide the blue gel in and out in synch with her anal twitches.

Finally, the excitement slowed down long enough for her to expel the naughty butt-missile from its silo. She lay there, too weak to move a muscle.

And that's when...

 

The phone rings? Someone walks in? The doorbell rings? Someone walks out of her closet?

 
 
 

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