Funny Abby reveals all. Porn Pics

Horny honeymooners have a beach adventure.

Even in my horniest state, my Rabbit rarely grazes my puckered entrance while profuse apologies from my husband-- at having poked the wrong hole, has always deemed it forbidden. Tonight, however, it's my gateway drug. I'm floating in a sea of dark, calm, arousal. Too calm. Shamefully, I want to circle my clit with my fingertips. Rock back onto the anonymous hand exploring my sex-- but who am I? Why was my body chosen for this crime? And who is this asshole to take it?!

Suddenly I'm circling the stages of grief. On the precipice of anger, once again I grapple to reclaim the free will being snatched from me. I bear the weight of my body on a single foot forcing a donkey kick in an attempt to defend myself. A maneuver no more effective than trying to wrestle my older brother when we were kids. An action that only makes my aggressor more aggressive.

Tightly gripping my biceps he wrenches my entire body toward the sink. Its ledge now digging into my rib cage-- my breast spill over the cups of my bra and into my sweater, as the sound of his pants zipper being ripped open echoes through the small room. The mirror is there, but again my gaze hesitates... Maybe if I behave I'll get out of this in one piece. Perhaps he'll just fuck me and go... But what if he doesn't-- what if he thinks I've seen who he is?!

I keep my head down, squeezing and sealing my eyes shut. There's a buzzing in my ears that drowns out any clear train of thought-- making me briefly question why it is I'm cold and forget that, except for my thigh-highs, my sex is fully exposed.

At first penetration I'm instantly aware that he's not as large as my husband. My shameful level of arousal resulting in not even an inkling of friction. His hips seem no wider than my own and while his dick may be just as thick as my husband's, he doesn't stroke in nearly as deep. I'm bored. So bored that I hear the heating system kick in and the faint sound of an ambulance from thirty stories below. Things I've never before taken the time to hear-- things I may never hear again...

After a dozen or so thrusts, he abruptly slips from my body and I find myself relieved that this mediocre sex show is coming to an end, but that's where my conceit fails me... He grunts and I gasp through the fabric still stuffed in my mouth. There's no poking. No prodding... The first fiery breach of my virgin orifice comes in one stuttered, shaky and unmoving thrust. For several moments I wonder-- vaguely worried, if he's already finished. When his dick finally jerks in partial retreat from the depths of my dark tunnel, I steady myself-- wrists still bound, by hooking my fingers over the faucet of the sink. Through the pain comes uncertain pleasure. Clutching the faucet for dear life, something indescribable begins to build within me. Like cotton candy, I'm not quite sure that I like it but for some reason I just can't seem to get enough of it... With each subsequent stroke I relax into it, my ass blooming and my haunches rising to meet a distinctly leaner pelvis than the one that I'm used to- the one I love... But it's the awareness of being in a semi-public space- a sixth sense of being watched, that spurs me toward a climax that threatens to buckle my knees. A notion that sets me off into body bucking convulsions that are far beyond my control. Every muscle tightens, from my lower belly through to my shoulders, sparking all of my senses to life. From the feel of fingers freely gripping my breasts and nipples, confined by nothing more than the cashmere of my sweater, to the smell of sex wafting from between my wet inner thighs as the flesh of my perpetrator slaps roughly against mine.

Tentatively, I descend from my warped peak of arousal only to be met with an onslaught of ragged breaths and jagged penetration.