By Heather Wyndom
Bert Shacken has been vacationing low and high for plenty of moons, continuously cautious to deliver to the boiling set pot again domestic (his spouse Hindy) the main voluptuous gifts--the rarest sexual units, the main subtle bed room options, and his personal inexhaustible strong will.
And Hindy Shacken was once staying domestic studiously, placing to strong use the entire assets of her erotic laboratory--and experimenting on her personal with all of the best-hung guinea pigs in the community. And what occurred with the exemplary couple makes a narrative you won't omit in a protracted time!
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Extra resources for A Piece of the Action
And I intended to savor every tiny, minuscule moment of it. Across the room, I could see Lynn scowling at me, annoyed I had ignored her primly conservative costume advice and turned up in my own creation. I just smiled good-naturedly and gave her a little wave, mentally altering her entire pirate wench outfit to be at least six inches shorter and possibly two sizes tighter. Bless her. She didn’t really think I was going to miss an opportunity like this, did she? The sheer beauty of costume parties is that they make it utterly acceptable, if not mandatory, to dress like a complete slut, and though sluttery is usually what I pride my girls on, not myself, I felt it rude not to get in the spirit of things.
There is no center. My body shook, convulsed. I lay on the bed. The pain started, like a crazy burn-itch all through me, like a muscle you want to stretch, like a cramp you can’t relieve, pain growing and unremitting. I was consumed and I panted in it. 35 woman-time Then compression. Small, small, small. Quivering, twitching. Settling. Now relief. No more pain. No more words. Hunger. Heartbeat. Fast. Run run run. Skitter. Forever. Food. Small opening. Squeeze. Run run run. Fast. Fear, frozen. Big eyes big heat near me.
Everyone knows this, right? My code is fucked. My code is magic. I don’t stay myself. There is no center. My body shook, convulsed. I lay on the bed. The pain started, like a crazy burn-itch all through me, like a muscle you want to stretch, like a cramp you can’t relieve, pain growing and unremitting. I was consumed and I panted in it. 35 woman-time Then compression. Small, small, small. Quivering, twitching. Settling. Now relief. No more pain. No more words. Hunger. Heartbeat. Fast. Run run run.