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.. more intense. With Joe's monster, I have to be seeking some kind of sexual nirvana, some especially high peak; I have to be inordinately horny for us to go there. Because it does hurt, but not when it's happening. Afterwards it feels like a phantom crowbar shoved up my ass. But it's worth it." Oh, so ... never mind," said Diana, taking my crowbar and shoving it back in her pussy."You want to watch Joe fuck me in the ass?" asked Sandy."Not if it..." You have any KY or massage oil?" You sure?" Only if you work your tongue magic on me."Diana slipped from underneath me and ran out the door. She came back with a bottle of massage oil in one hand and a large black dildo in the other. "I bet you wondered what happened to my hymen. Well, Slim took it," she said. I got out of bed and she lay down, her head at the foot. Sandy straddled her head. They proceeded to lick each other. Sandy soon moaned into Diana's petite pussy.My iron rod had not melted. I got behind Sandy and began tonguing her. I had the hair of my dreams, but Ineeded more off. But not all! One more inch went.My friend said this time, he wanted to trim it a little more carefullyand show me a style he thought I'd like. I loved what I was looking atalready, and I could feel the need to control myself as I stared into themirror watching as he worked his brushes and curling irons. What had beena beautiful mass of sun streaked, blonde, beach hair was now curling overmy shoulders, ringlets fell over my ears, a wave crossed my foreheadcatching my eye lashes. He began to separate the curls adding curlingringlets to those surrounding my neck. I don't know how I controlledmyself - I so wanted to grab myself.There in the mirror was my friend, with a wry smile on his face - he knewwhat he had done. In turning my head into a mass of gorgeous curls, hetold me he knew my secret. My heart was pounding as I looked at my dream,trying to believe that it was really me I was looking at in the mirror.All too soon, he asked.
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I could feel the clinging cunt clutch my cock enclosing it in a moist heated sheath. No other sensation had ever given me more a sense of completion, or such pure elation, as that penetration of my mother’s womb.She pressed her body to me, the pliant pillows of her breasts pushed against my chest; the nipples, rubbery points that poked my pects. We clung to one another and our cheeks made contact, head to head. Our quick breaths in each other’s ear, but no words were spoken, only sighs came from our throats; moans of involuntary spasms, as our genitals did all the talking. The silent sign language of sex, save for the slapping of flesh, was communication enough, as mother and son began the dance of the double-backed beast. It was communion and sin, sacred made manifest in the profane, the spiritual in united bodies that celebrated together carnal cravings. This was the love we shared, we gave, we took, an exchange of the most ethereal; a consummation of concupiscence, a.

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