“Slug!”
Sometimes, Autumn just wanted to fuck. But Vick had been let out of the butthole closet, and he had so much that he wanted to try and explore. He’d always wanted things up his butt, he said, but there was only so much that a guy could do without help. When she suggested something normal (dressing up like Elmo and screwing in a giant pile of furries like a mass of discarded toys, for instance), Vick got mopey and said that yes, he was a freak, and he’d then thank her for hanging in with his weird fetish and say that of course they could role-play as Sonny and Cher, including the skiing accident.
But Autumn had a weak spot for fetishists who were ashamed. So whenever it looked like Vick was starting to feel bad about what he wanted, she backed off and told him that he should be whoever he wanted.
“Oh thank God,” he told her. “I love that I can be exactly who I really am around you.”
Autumn smiled.
Vick chucked her on the shoulder. “Now let’s go buy some gerbils,” he said. Then he said, “Haha, just kidding,” when she looked up with concern (for the gerbils’ welfare while inside of a colon). Then his eyes started to dart around self-consciously.
But whatever lines Vick may have been deciding not to cross in Autumn’s presence, he was certainly enjoying himself. And, Autumn had to admit, so was she. Vick’s magnificent dick was still working its wonders, and she got to ride it or bend over and have it special-delivered right up the pink highway as often as she wanted. Vick, his ass satisfied, became an expert cock-wielder (not “cock welder”; she’d dated one of those too and it was not comfortable) and made Autumn cum harder than she could usually find out in the general population of non-ass-fetishists. It was your classic win-win.
“Put a light bulb up there,” said Vick, presenting his anus like a panda in heat.
“I light bulb? But it’ll break!”
“No, no,” Vick assured her. “It’s loosened up from those tennis balls. Look. Don’t be a stupid fucking bitch. Just try.” Then he demonstrated, visually, that it wouldn’t pose a problem.
Vick could vacillate between perfectly nice and a total asshole, with the total asshole part of his personality blossoming bigger the longer they were “together.” But so long as she was getting hers, and Lord Almighty she was, Autumn was okay with Vick’s many layers of dickishness.
“You don’t want it on or anything, do you?”
“Haha, no, of course not. That would be crazy.”
So against her better judgment, Autumn stuck a light bulb up Vick’s ass. It made it out safely, though Autumn was sweating bullets the entire time. If not for the fact that they were in a sixty-nine, with Vick’s tongue buried in her pussy, she would have had a panic attack. As it was, she simply painted his face with slippery pussy juice and wondered, not for the first time, if she was getting off on the vicarious danger.
D-Day came when Vick said he wanted the bathtub faucet up his ass. Autumn was reluctant. But by then Vick understood how this worked, so he dropped his pants and started rubbing his fantastic veiny throbbing cock until it was at full mast, put his hand on Autumn’s shoulder, nudged her to the ground, and stuck it in her mouth. With Vick’s mammoth pole between her lips, Autumn immediately felt her resistance dissolving. It was like a pacifier, and Autumn had a moment of inspiration involving a stress-relieving toy for adult women.
“Ow, aw wight ,” said Autumn around a mouthful of Vick. Then she polished his knob until he dropped a thick load of splooge down her throat while shoving four fingers up her pussy and rubbing it like she had a grudge against it.
The operation was different from Vick’s normal requests, with many logistical difficulties. Vick didn’t want Autumn to remove the faucet. He wanted to use it in the way an adventurous girl might use a dildo with a
Sometimes, Autumn just wanted to fuck. But Vick had been let out of the butthole closet, and he had so much that he wanted to try and explore. He’d always wanted things up his butt, he said, but there was only so much that a guy could do without help. When she suggested something normal (dressing up like Elmo and screwing in a giant pile of furries like a mass of discarded toys, for instance), Vick got mopey and said that yes, he was a freak, and he’d then thank her for hanging in with his weird fetish and say that of course they could role-play as Sonny and Cher, including the skiing accident.
But Autumn had a weak spot for fetishists who were ashamed. So whenever it looked like Vick was starting to feel bad about what he wanted, she backed off and told him that he should be whoever he wanted.
“Oh thank God,” he told her. “I love that I can be exactly who I really am around you.”
Autumn smiled.
Vick chucked her on the shoulder. “Now let’s go buy some gerbils,” he said. Then he said, “Haha, just kidding,” when she looked up with concern (for the gerbils’ welfare while inside of a colon). Then his eyes started to dart around self-consciously.
But whatever lines Vick may have been deciding not to cross in Autumn’s presence, he was certainly enjoying himself. And, Autumn had to admit, so was she. Vick’s magnificent dick was still working its wonders, and she got to ride it or bend over and have it special-delivered right up the pink highway as often as she wanted. Vick, his ass satisfied, became an expert cock-wielder (not “cock welder”; she’d dated one of those too and it was not comfortable) and made Autumn cum harder than she could usually find out in the general population of non-ass-fetishists. It was your classic win-win.
“Put a light bulb up there,” said Vick, presenting his anus like a panda in heat.
“I light bulb? But it’ll break!”
“No, no,” Vick assured her. “It’s loosened up from those tennis balls. Look. Don’t be a stupid fucking bitch. Just try.” Then he demonstrated, visually, that it wouldn’t pose a problem.
Vick could vacillate between perfectly nice and a total asshole, with the total asshole part of his personality blossoming bigger the longer they were “together.” But so long as she was getting hers, and Lord Almighty she was, Autumn was okay with Vick’s many layers of dickishness.
“You don’t want it on or anything, do you?”
“Haha, no, of course not. That would be crazy.”
So against her better judgment, Autumn stuck a light bulb up Vick’s ass. It made it out safely, though Autumn was sweating bullets the entire time. If not for the fact that they were in a sixty-nine, with Vick’s tongue buried in her pussy, she would have had a panic attack. As it was, she simply painted his face with slippery pussy juice and wondered, not for the first time, if she was getting off on the vicarious danger.
D-Day came when Vick said he wanted the bathtub faucet up his ass. Autumn was reluctant. But by then Vick understood how this worked, so he dropped his pants and started rubbing his fantastic veiny throbbing cock until it was at full mast, put his hand on Autumn’s shoulder, nudged her to the ground, and stuck it in her mouth. With Vick’s mammoth pole between her lips, Autumn immediately felt her resistance dissolving. It was like a pacifier, and Autumn had a moment of inspiration involving a stress-relieving toy for adult women.
“Ow, aw wight ,” said Autumn around a mouthful of Vick. Then she polished his knob until he dropped a thick load of splooge down her throat while shoving four fingers up her pussy and rubbing it like she had a grudge against it.
The operation was different from Vick’s normal requests, with many logistical difficulties. Vick didn’t want Autumn to remove the faucet. He wanted to use it in the way an adventurous girl might use a dildo with a
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