After a hard day of cleaning out the old house, I was beyond worn out. M apparently recognized this fact, and after plying me with wine, stripped me down to rub my back with baby oil. Within minutes, the stress began to seep away, apparently through my vagina.

As I relaxed, he shifted the bulk of his attention from my shoulders and neck, down to my lower back and butt. For some reason, he really likes to shower attention on my Mommy Dearest tramp stamp. Hey, it’s not like I’m going to argue.

Eventually his lips found his way to my lower back, and 2 fingers slipped inside of me. He slowly worked them in and out of me, although I can’t imagine that it took much work. I was so wet by that point that a slightly oily finger slid right into my ass without any hesitation. I lay there with one of his fingers bumping my clit, two in my pussy, one in my ass. For some reason, it was unbelievably relaxing. But the relaxation soon turned into urgency and I needed more that just his fingers inside me.

“I need you to fuck me now.”

Removing all but his index finger from my ass, he slipped his cock into my dripping pussy, but only long enough to get it wet. It wasn’t long before he took he disengaged completely, aimed a little higher, and slowly pushed against my tight little hole. Once the head popped through, my ass practically pulled him inside me. Please note: that’s “popped,” not “popped.” M apparently can’t read–at least, not over my shoulder. As I adjusted to it, he gradually began to thrust harder, while I tried to keep pace by squeezing him with each thrust. Within minutes his cock began to twitch. He gave one last thrust, and collapsed against my back, shuddering against me. We were both completely wrecked, but we also had our best night’s sleep in ages.

It is so amazing to trust someone so fully that I can just lay there and let him do what he pleases to my body. He knows my limits and he knows what feels good to me. He also apparently knows what the shocker is. Turns out it was done to me before I knew there was a name for it. Personally, I think that “Two in the pink; one in the stink” is far more poetic than “used as a bowling ball.”