That first weekend in this weird, wonderful marriage was our honeymoon.
At some point someone ordered pizza and we sat in the front room, naked, eating, drinking beer, and passing a joint around.
At some point, we slept although for me it was more like “napped” since one of my husbands seemed always to want me.
Don’t get me wrong though, it’s not like I didn’t want them.
It was like some deeply buried switch in my brain had been thrown and all of my inhibitions had simply fallen away.
It seemed perfectly natural, for example, when I woke with Roger lightly tickling Betty.
When I woke he guided me until I was on all fours again, wondering if he would want me to “moo” for him and giggling a little at the thought, across the bed, my hands near the edge.
He entered me from behind, his hands on my hips, pulling me to him.
I backed into him happily, enjoying his length inside of me.
“She’s ready,” he called.
David walked in then, his erection leading the way, and came to the bed.
He grinned and said, “your first time to be spit roasted?” he asked.
“I don’t know what that is,” I said.
He grinned wider and stepped forward, guiding his cock to my lips.
I knew what he wanted and opened my mouth to him.
He pushed in deep enough to trigger my gag reflex and then said, “swallow Jean, hard.”
I swallowed hard, not wanting to throw up on him, and he went deeper.
I could feel him in my throat as I kept swallowing.
It was hard to breathe through my nose and soon I had to breathe out hard, effectively blowing my nose on him.
But I couldn’t get off of him, the way his fingers were entwined in my hair, holding me to him.
My chin was on his scrotum now, and about every third breath I’d have to blow to clear the tiny air passage I had.
“All we need is a rotisserie,” he said holding me to him as I masturbated him with my throat and Roger took me from behind.
When Roger came I did too, and the difficulty I was having breathing left me light-headed.
David came, right down my throat, and when he softened and pulled out I gasped for air in great whoops, like a person surfacing from a near-drowning experience.
The weekend went like that.
I learned to use my hand to arouse and then finish a man.
I learned Avrupa yakası escort bayan to squeeze my breasts together for his pleasure and found it oddly pleasurable myself.
I learned the pure sensual pleasure of having both breasts suckled at once and then the pleasure of having a third mouth find Betty.
My first experience with anal sex was that weekend too.
I was laying, face down, feeling like I was literally glowing in the afterglow when I heard someone come in and felt him lay next to me.
I didn’t open my eyes.
I said, softly, “I love you.”
Al’s voice replied, “I love you too.”
I smiled but still didn’t open my eyes.
I squirmed when his hand started tickling the roundness of my ass.
I could feel him shifting and felt his fingertip start just above my knees and slowly drag up.
My legs parted without any input from my brain.
His finger found where I was leaking and slowly moved up, his now-slick finger lightly touching my anus.
Then the fingers of his other hand spread my cheeks, exposing that last sensitive private spot.
I had known this would be coming and felt a moment of, not fear exactly, I suppose reluctance is the best word.
When he touched and then used his finger to dip into Betty again, almost like dipping into a jar of vaseline and touching again.
He was slow and gentle, and when I felt the pressure building again I tried to relax.
At the first penetration my breath caught and he stopped.
“Are you okay,” he asked.
“Yes baby,” I said, “it’s just, well, your the first.”
He chuckled and said, “you know the promise bride-o-mine. If you want me to stop just say so.”
I finally opened my eyes and turned my head, looking up at him from that awkward face-down position.
“Don’t stop,” I said and he pushed his finger in.
I hissed and he started to pull out but I said, “no baby, please, stay there. It’s not bad, it’s just new.”
And that was true.
It didn’t hurt, it was just a pressure that I had never experienced before.
I squeezed on him with my sphincter muscles and it was his turn to hiss softly.
I squealed and giggled when he suddenly wiggled his finger.
He started slowly pushing and pulling, Escort Ataköy not hard and not far, just using his finger to tease more than anything.
And the pressure in my belly was blooming.
When he started to pull out I squeezed, hard, trying to hold him in, but he escaped.
He crawled around, getting his knees between mine, and lifted my hips.
He slipped into me, vaginally, and then pulled out, now slick.
His hands spread my cheeks, exposing me, and then he touched me there with his erection, just a touch, and then back to Betty for more lubricant.
He did that several times and then shifted his position slightly.
His tip was touching me now and he said, “are you sure it’s okay.”
“Yes baby,” I said.
“Relax,” he said, his hands spreading me apart completely now.
“Please baby,” I said, my breathing a little ragged now, “I’m ready.”
He was bigger than his finger of course, and there was a brief sensation of pain as he stretched the tiny opening but then all I felt was an amazing, delicious, FULLNESS.
I felt him stop when he hit resistance and I adjusted my body until I felt relieved.
“Please baby,” I said again, “all the way.”
He pushed a little more and I felt him past the rectal vault.
He was in my bowels now.
And I exploded.
I cried out and he did too when my entire body clenched, including the strong muscle he had just passed through.
And I came, my natural lubricant of pheromone-laden mucus pouring down my thighs.
When I relaxed a little he started to pull out and I cried, “no, no, no baby, please, no stay.”
He pushed back in and I came again, the same way, powerfully, another gush of slickness down my thighs.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I moaned, and came again, powerfully, liquidly.
When my body relaxed finally, my head was hanging, my nose was running in concert with what was happening between my legs, and I was swallowing hard to keep up with the saliva production.
“Oh God,” I said softly, “thank you baby, thank you baby, thank you baby, now take what you need, please baby, fuck me now.”
He chuckled, gripped my hips, and he did as I asked.
I came again, but not as hard as those first three times, and again as he did.
We both laid face down, Şirinevler escort him on top of me for a while before he rolled off.
I rolled up on my side and kissed him, our first kiss of this love making.
I pushed up, sitting on my feet, and looked down at him.
I grinned and said, “you did say nothing was dirty between us, didn’t you?”
He looked thoughtful for a minute but then said, “no.”
So I took his cock, semen and shit stained, and began licking him clean.
OH CHRIST Aunt Marie sort of moaned.
There was a scent, not bad, and no taste beyond his semen and my nectar.
But there was something so, well, so depraved about what I was doing that I felt like I had crossed another bridge, this one that I could never go back over.
When I was done I laid back down beside him and said, “will you still kiss me?”
He grinned and pushed away.
“Not yet,” he said and my heart stopped. Had I gone too far this time?
He pushed me down on my belly and crawled around, spread my cheeks, and began licking where I was dirty too.
It was so unexpected I almost tried to get away.
Then it felt so good I almost came.
He bathed me back there like a cat, for a good two minutes before he crawled up, took my face between his two hands, and said, “now I’ll kiss you.”
We kissed like that, like two teenagers, for a few minutes before it hit me that what we had been doing had left me NEEDING the bathroom.
When we broke a kiss I rolled away, giggling, heading for the bathroom, saying, “gotta poop.”
I had barely got seated when he came into the bathroom.
“Nothing,” he said simply and started kissing me again.
It was an odd mixture of tenderness, and intimacy, and kinkiness, and a deep naughtiness from the taboo of a lifetime that said this was private business, as we kissed and hugged and shared “I love you” as I shit and pissed.
“No need,” he said when I reached for the toilet paper roll.
He started the water running in the tub and then helped me step in an turned on the shower.
I said, “you know, I could get used to this,” as he started washing my face.
“Good,” he said, “I doubt you’ll ever shower alone again.”
He was shampooing my hair when I felt a new warm stream and smelled urine.
He was peeing against my belly.
“AL!” I yelled, trying to get away.
He laughed and said, “after what we just did you’re going to be upset because I pee in the shower.”
“You’re peeing on ME!” I said.
By then he was done so it didn’t really matter.
He said, simply, “nothing,” and went back to shampooing my hair.