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Our journey to the hotwife lifestyle.

d when my daughter was getting it!

Not true! This could not be the feeling in a woman's cunt or there would be no babies in the world. Cunts are for pricks. Where I was getting it-it felt as though at least five inches were jammed up there, but I doubt it-was not evolution's second solution for intercourse! Not!

"Mom," said Stephanie, turning to Sandra. "The only thing that helps you is getting off while your ass is fucked."

"Oh, so...?"

"Go lick his dick, Mom. But don't let him come or the rest of the reaming will be unrelieved awfulness."

Sandra glanced at Susan-after all, the wife has rights, the mother-in-law only permission. I couldn't see Susan's face, but she must have given a thumbs up. Sandra knelt on the sofa facing me, or rather my stiff dick, her lusciously developed body firm as only rugged workouts can keep the perfect tone of jumbo breasts, long thighs, and a substantial torso. My eyes fastened on her big, craggy, almost purple nipples and the full lips in her handsome, blond-framed face.

By now, I was waiting for the first sensation of pleasure the way a patient's eyes never leave the next pill or shot on the nurse's tray. With two fingers, Sandra took the root of my cock, right down in the undergrowth of unkempt dark-brown hair, and jiggled it a little, watching my face. All I could do was nod; she would have to guess that the screwed-up grimace on my face, my eyes almost shut, was not in reaction to what she was doing. Then, her head went forward, determinedly, and her sensuous mouth opened wide for my prick, now flaming red just beneath the swelling meat and tight as a violin string. A few soft pumps, the lips riding up and down, and I felt the distant approach of opiate relief.

Susan had not stopped reaming my asshole, over and over, driving my belly forward, so my prick kept thrusting and retreated in Sandra's mouth. With each jolt, I moaned in despair, "Oh!" The agony and the thrilling tickle were alternating, not quite indistinguishable; I couldn't stand what was happening to me, but I didn't want it to stop.

Susan seems to have felt that she needed handholds to draw herself forward for each thrust; her right hand slide between my splayed legs and closed on my balls. Next thing I knew, she was using them to haul herself forward.

"No! My nuts! No, Susan! No!" She hauled as though on a rope, squeezing tight, and each time ground my balls against each other.

She was gasping, in excitement: "How are your big balls, Tommy? Do they like this?" My wife was getting-off on this, but she was never going to come-never lose interest in battering hubby to blubbering pleas. I was close to blubbering.

I looked around in panic, spied Stephanie surveying the field of action, arms crossed over her breasts, squashing them out gently at the sides. When I caught her eye, I said, grinding my teeth, "For God's sake, shove a vibrator into your sister's cunt, will you?"

"Sure!" said Stephanie brightly, and darted away. I didn't know how much equipment Butch and Angelina had abandoned when we shipped them out.

"Got it!" I heard Stephanie chirp. And then, "Spread'em, Sis, I want to see that fat clit sticking right out of your brush pile!" And, after a moment, "Wider, bitch!" and the sound of a sharp slap, which I took to be Stephanie's hand across Susan's bare ass.

"Ow! Shit! That was hard, Steph!" And then, "Okay, okay, I'm so wide now I feel my pussy lips stretching and my clit is chilly."

"Ow! Stop it! What now?"

"Bend your knees just a little, so your meat dangles down."

"Fucking romantic way of talking about all this!" Susan gasped. And then, "Oh, oh! Sensitive, sensitive Steph!"

"So is Tommy's asshole, bitch!"

Susan's voice deepened to almost a growl; "Yeah! Fuck! Oh, yeah, fuck it hard!"

Unfortunately, in her arousal, she started thrusting still harder, and faster-and she hadn't released her grip on my balls.

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