Nothing, and I mean nothing, in sex gets me off more than the scent and taste of my woman's ass. I don't mean when it's squeaky clean and perfumed. I mean when it smells and tastes like what an ass is and what it does.
Nothing beats the erotic blast of kissing her soft, satiny fanny and parting the cheeks to expose her sexy anus.
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It's a scene that won't soon be forgotten. Through the trees and looking out through the mountain peaks is a glorious sunset. Their faces turn a beautiful shade of orange and pink as the sunset reflects on them. The sun shines through the clouds sending rays of light bursting into the sky above them. The Aspens have turned lovely shades of yellow and orange. They provide a beautiful complement to the shades of the sky.
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Anyways, so I was at work finishing up some end of the day shit after everyone else had gone home for the day. For whatever reason my mind started to drift to my happy places and gradually I became more aroused and less concerned with work. After a few minutes of daydreaming about a beautiful set of ass cheeks spread before me, I decided to sit back and pull out my cock.
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I'm astride my husband and he's pounding me with his pulsing hard cock, bottoming out inside my cunt, his hands gripping my hips and his tongue lapping at my swaying tits. Luna's behind me, fingering my ass with one hand while fondling hubby's balls with the other. Husband grunts like a bull and slaps my ass, pulls my hair and pinches my nipples, as Luna starts licking my thighs and lower back like a dog. Just as she prepares to lick my ass I reach for my vibrator, and in an instant I recall how I arrived here.
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There comes a time in every woman's life when she has to stop and say to herself, "Where am I now? Where am I going? How did I get here?" And then there are times that those are pretty darn dumb questions. Where am I now? I'm bent over the leading edge of a table. My hands are tied together and the nylon stocking used for that is looped over something on the far side. My stocking toes are barely able to touch the floor and I'm quite stretched out with my bottom in the air.
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Was it true? Did it really happen? Everyone always wants to know, don't they? It makes it hotter, doesn't it, to know that it really happened. I guess because they think if it actually happened to someone then it could happen to them, too. Well, it can. That's all I'm gonna say about my last story. It can happen to you, too, if you want it to happen.
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I walked home in the glaring sun as sprinklers tinkled on the lawns of our neighbours and sweat seeped slowly into my clothes. I wiped my brow and held the straps of my backpack, beneath which the thin material of my school shirt was nearly saturated. The temperature had risen steadily over the past week and the heat wave was now at its peak.
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