That was this summer. I had very long relationship and last year i got ridden of it. So I sex occasionally wit various girls till then. One night this September I was very very tired of everything. Job went finally better and some private investing also, but I had being working for 14 hours a day at time. It was About 1 am in the morning and was just went of from long shower and about to lay down on my bad.The voice from the other side of cell phone was very pleasant, some kind of baby talking voice. Voice said" Annnn' what what do want from me now?...LOL.. i said "who is this?&... Continue»
Dear Dirty Diary,
I woke up the following Saturday morning with a terribly stiff back. Doug and Louise were already working on the enclosure for the hot tub we all missed so much. Since neither of my lovers was around to soothe my aching muscles, I had to look after myself. I stretched and limbered up without much success, so I took a hot shower then returned to try my special back exercises. I spread my bath towel across the middle of the bed then kneeled on it. I bent over, placed my hands flatly on the mattress. I crept up with my knees to curve my spine back as tightly as I could, closed my eyes and held my position until the pain faded away. After a few minutes, I pushed myself up off my elbows then did several rolling crouches forward and back to finish loosening up my lower back.
The harder I pushed, the more I felt my breasts sway forward and back, so I peeked over into my vanity mirror to see what they looked like. As I pitched back and forth, I studied the dynamics of my body in motion. When I crouched back, my hanging globes would surge forward then thrust apart slightly. When I rolled forward, my dangling boobs would swing back and thump against my ribs and when I over-compressed a squat, I could feel my bum touch down on my heels. After a few minutes of observation, I noticed an exploitable pattern of body motion.
I put on my robe and slippers and zipped down to Louise’s in search of some items in her toy bag. I quickly returned with two pairs of eyeglasses cords, a nipple sucker and her long, wide-flanged base dildo. I slipped off my bathrobe, attached one end of each cord to my clit ring. Devilishly delightful thoughts swept through my brain as I tickled my button fat with excitement. I tickled a nipple then sucked it up with the bulb. Then I popped the sucker off and snared my doubly bloated teat with the glasses cord before it could shrink back down. I repeated the procedure on my other nipple with the second cord. I climbed back into bed, sat cross-legged and I tickled my favorite tender bit nicely erect.
Trembling with anticipation, I KY-lubed Louise’s dildo, worked its knob just into my vagina then squatted down so its suction cup base dangled between my heels. I squeezed my heels together to grasp the dildo then let myself drop gently upon it. I felt the exaggerated folds of the foreskin washboard through my vulva. I bent over, touched my palms down on the mattress then crouched tightly back into my exercise position. Slowly at first, I surged back and forth on the dildo and when I loosened enough to slurp, I picked up the pace. The harder I thrust, the further my boobs swayed, but what I envisioned just wasn’t happening. I tied a small knot in each cord then tried again. By the third try, I could feel that the cords were in perfect tautness and I realized the reward I was seeking.
Each time I crouched back down on the dildo, my boobs slapped against my rib cage and each time I lurched ahead up on the dildo, my breasts heaved ahead, pulled the cords taut and tugged my little ring. The sensations were so heavenly perfect and easy to achieve. Lurch backwards and pussy gets stuffed! Lunge ahead and tender bit gets jerked! In ten or eleven rocks, I had my bodily momentum perfectly synchronized. Ever the wide-eyed voyeur, I watched the perfection of it all. The slap of my breasts, the slurps of my pussy and this snorts from my nostrils all combined to make music to the ears of this horny housewife. Nine or ten minutes of the best exercise ever created left me with flushed cheeks and chest as I reached my crescendo! I was loose in the joints, loose in the pussy and ready to cut loose in the hot tub. I longed for those effervescent bubbles to tickle up the undersides of my floating breasts once more. To feel the pulsating power of the jets pummel my pussy into orgasm after orgasm like they did at the Marina was just the incentive I needed to get me into my work clothes and back down working in the basement.
We had beautiful sea-foam green flooring laid on the playroom floor. We had my exercise-bike room walls dry-walled and painted. Louise had just finished installing wardrobe mirrors on the head and both sidewalls of my private little workout domain as well as behind the hot tub. All that was really left was to finish the wiring and plumbing then install the plastic vapor-barrier wall Doug had constructed.
Be calm, my tingling pussy. Just a few more days and your exquisite abuse will return, my love.
In the days that followed we finished off the recreation room. During our celebratory dinner together, we agreed that Amy and Michelle’s visit suggested other girlfriends out there might enjoy our house. We decided to advertise in lesbian magazines to entice readers who live within a five-hour drive of the house. We concluded that a catch phrase to publicize our lifestyle should be within the ad. Doug, of all people, rhymed out loud: Girlfriends in love? Curious and Alone? Our Secret’s this haven, where you’ll feel at home.
Simple and right to the point, we placed his motto in every ad, just above the phone number.
The week after the hot tub was commissioned into service, the three of us agreed that we should have an Open House to announce the official opening of Our Little Secret. Louise invited the local Business Women’s Association, the local Press, the Better Business Bureau and all her old girlfriends and school chums from Philipsburg. After the departure of all the business people in the late afternoon, we three were left with a dozen or so women, who weren’t at all anxious to go home. Congratulatory wine bottles were opened, pizzas were delivered, toasts were made and card games were started. Euchre was the game of choice and four tables of cackling women had poor Doug’s head in a spin. He kept their glasses topped up and their tummies full of pastries and chocolate as the party raged on.
In between hands, Louise offered a special tour of the basement playroom to whoever was interested. Like a Girl Guides leader, Louise led the entire group of delightfully tipsy women downstairs. Doug showed off his carpentry, Louise showed off her dance floor, with its mirrored ceiling ball and powerful sound system, and I showed off our brand new two passenger hot tub. In less than five minutes, two of Louise’s friends had stripped down to their underwear and were lounging in the hot frothy bubbles.
Except for one plump little dear who wandered into my workout bike room, the other women were all dancing the “Hustle.” Once inside, Jeanine lifted her skirts and was pedaling merrily to the music. About the time the music stopped, her face became flushed and she appeared a little woozy. Doug offered to help her down off my bike to give her some fresh air. As she dismounted, a loud rattle noise rang out, and out of my bicycle seat, that shimmering wet spring-mounted dildo of Q’s whipped back and forth. First there was a hush of concern as the way was cleared for wobbly-legged Jeanine. But jouncing back and forth, the dildo beaconed all that saw it like a giant index finger welcoming them in. First one, then another entered my inner sanctum. Some squeezed Doug’s contribution to my exercise routine, some slapped it back and forth, one bent down and sniffed it, but on a whole, the most of Louise’s friends just raised their eyebrows a little then smiled knowingly to each other then filed back upstairs.
Eventually returning upstairs, I found everyone embroiled in fevered conversation. The spokeswoman for the group suddenly said, “We’re all agreed then?”
The women all nodded in accord and she continued, “We, the Richelieu River Pirates Women’s Support Group, give our blessing to Louise’s new endeavor and welcome Louise’s special friend Laura into our fold. We hereby submit that a weekly get together and games night be initiated and held here each week. We feel that our association could prosper within this grand old house and feel that our lives could all be enriched by the inventiveness of its unique staff.”
All faces looked to Louise for a reply. I suppose the smiles on Doug’s and my faces helped her answer come quickly. With a mock stern expression, Louise began, “We have a business to run here and I don’t want all your foolishness annoying the paying guests, so I guess we’ll have to make it a mid-week ritual then.”
From then on, every Wednesday night thirteen women arrived at 7 pm for a hen party beyond all rhyme and reason. Everyone brought wine, goodies gossip and their libidos to the card tables. About 8:30, Jeanine (who always arranged to be the odd player sitting out), quietly went down towards the washroom. The card playing continued without her, but during any hush in the raucous conversations, the clickety-click of my exercise bike echoed up though an old air grille in the corner of the dinning room. We listened intently during each lull and as the room grew quieter, unmistakably lewd squishy sound and the pants of impassioned breathing came from below.
Poor Doug! After about ten minutes of fevered pants, whimpers and moans I’d send him down to make sure she was OK. Returning back to the dining room, wobbly-legged and blushing madly, she unabashedly would announce to the next low-scoring that the bike was all warmed up and ready for action. Excellent players would deliberately blow an entire game to ensure their fifteen minutes on the bike. During refreshment breaks, talk would often center on riding and breathing. As the weeks went by, small talk lessened and ears craned to interpret each exerciser’s unique bodily sounds. Between hands, critiques and technical suggestions were issued to improve upon rider’s performance skills.
For a while I was concerned over my husband’s feelings about having horny d***ken women invading his domain each week, but he adapted quickly to the situation. Rather than hiding up in our apartment, he made our games night into his Jacuzzi night so he would be close by to anyone needing assistance. He became so helpful he was given honorary membership in the Richelieu River Pirates support group. I thought this novel and cute, but when he offered to adjust the handlebars crotch mirror for each of the ladies, I got more than a little concerned. I knew damned well that he loved every minute of it.