Its My Real Story With My Girl Friend !!!!!

It was the very best of times. Like getting out, after a long stay in rehab, and having that first drink! My anything-but-prodigal son was returning to the humble nest (and I do mean humble) for the entire spring holidays. Jacob had been industriously toiling away at college for almost six months. This was his first year at Berkley and I missed him more than that vibrator I shorted out in the bathtub. Since his father had scampered off with some big-titted pancake waitress and become a spinning instructor in Aspen (theoretically to work off all those free pancakes he’d been eating), we had become very close. Of course, in the microscopic two bedroom apartment.

 I was forced to move into, I was very close to just about everything. If I took a deep breath, my ribcage would touch both walls. Since Jake had been off enlarging his brain to the size of a Chevron 76 sign, I’d gotten into the kind of habits that a person gets into when they live alone. Walking naked around the apartment, farting at will, bathing on a “need to do” basis and having prolonged wank sessions in my living room. I had developed a whole sophisticated, bordering on Daedalean, autoerotic ritual in his absence.

 A glass of wine, some porn I’d downloaded from the internet on my flatscreen and a pair of indefatigable fingers between my legs. I’d watch some amateur cuckold encounters or a few threesome videos and slowly sip my wine. That left my good hand free to play with my tits through the first few venereal vignettes. After my tender nipples had received a thorough and exhaustive mauling, I would slide on down to my buttery mound. Perhaps a top up on the wine before really digging in to the job at hand. Now, it was time for some spit-roasting or double penetrations while I brought myself slowly, but deliberately to my first orgasm. I so enjoyed wanking that I didn’t want it to be over too quickly. The more anxious I got for the cum monkeys to start screaming between my legs, the slower I tried to go. Of course, at some point you just lose all sense and reason and start beating on your clit like it’s your pancake-waitress-loving husband’s nutsack.

By this point, the wine has been placed safely on a side table and my ring finger is up my ass as far as I can shove it before I explode. Then it is gloriously upon me. My spine tingles, my legs tense and my little twat hole clenches. I can feel my sphincter start to squeeze my knuckle and Bam!, this massive tsunami of sexual pleasure practically knocks me off the couch. All that waiting and holding back makes me feel like I’ve been love-punched in the cunt by Wladamir Klitschko. Good, holy God! My upper body is violently jerked forward over and over by these devastating contractions exploding like Firestone tires from clit to tits.