Playing With Wine Bottles (continued) free porn video

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But it's there, this totally consuming intense feeling that makes my whole body shake and my knees go weak, and I slump down on to the bottle with all my weight - reaching down with my hands to hold the serving set ring in an attempt to manage balancing my whole body on my pussy. My arms are pushing my breasts together in front of me, and I can't see past my cleavage and the lace, so all I can do is feel how my pussy is still stretched and yawning, the burning continuing as I slowly slip further down the smooth glass sides of the bottle. My belly is shaking, and there is nothing I can do to get my feet underneath me and lift up; nothing I can do to slow my steady descent down the lubed Chardonnay bottle. And as it goes deeper inside of me, I can feel my pussy walls being distorted and stretched. The burning hits a new intensity as I feel the crushing pain from the edge of the bottle grinding over my cervix. And the pain is so bad but at the same time my pussy convulses and tries to clench down, and it can't do more than strain, fail, and strain again because the four and a half inch wide bottle doesn't yield or give at all. And while my pussy is trying so hard to squeeze and push the bottle out, a new hollow opens up, further in and beyond my cervix, and it sucks on the glass bottle even as the weight of my torso causes me to sink lower.

That madman I mentioned earlier, he told me once that it was these sensations that wrecked my pussy. I was offended and didn't understand, but every time I ride the French Chardonnay I realize how right he was. My pussy swallowed another couple of inches of the broad glass bottom, and I could feel myself bottom out - the top of my vagina spread by something the size of two closed fists, knuckles facing each other, and the forearms holding my entire pussy completely open. Stretched out like this I was overwhelmed in addition to being over-fucked. I managed to get my feet underneath me, my knees still bent, and tested moving up the length of the bottle. That added a new sensation as the bottle partially lifted with me, and then the seal between the bottom and the top of my vag broke, and it dropped half an inch at once. My pussy went insane trying to clench and squeeze again, and I could feel the way that just seemed to tear me open more.

I pushed down, ignoring my pussy's protests, and bottomed out a second time. I lifted up, and this time I pushed down with my weight. I knew the Chardonnay was breaking my pussy, and I pushed harder anyway. The intensity got me off, caused my pussy to squirt, and mixed in with the medical lube running down the sides of the bottle were creamy cunt juices being flushed out by copious volumes of thinner squirt juice. I'm not per se multiorgasmic, but I don't stop when I'm enjoying myself either. I began working my legs, forcing them to lift me up and then relaxing to slide down the glass bottle. Every motion is one continuous stretching sensation, and I can still feel when I bottom out how my pussy is being pushed deeper and deeper into my belly.

I keep going like that for a while. Like I said, the Celtic piece is nice and lasts almost two hours. There's no reason for me to stop, even as the intensity fades and fucking the bottle becomes easier. I enjoy every bit of riding the French Chardonnay bottle until the aches in my belly and knees and thighs and lower back mean I have to slow down.

It's only then that I will check how far I have gotten. I can't go by any marking on the bottle because the glass has been rubbed and washed smooth. And I can't trust a high water mark because the medical lube and my juices have been pumped in and out of my pussy by this massive piston, splashing them all over the length of the bottle and into the bird seed. So I wipe off a hand and pick up my digital camera. I have to reach down, angling it as straight as I can, and I take a photo. I'll be able to judge based on the taper of the bottle neck and the exposed length of the thick portion of the bottle roughly how much has gone into my pussy.

It also gives me another partial payment for the insane guy. I don't let people join me when I fuck my bottles - it's my personal thing. Lifting off the Chardonnay explained why. Guys like a gal who is dirty, available, and a bit sexy crazy. But right now my pussy looks totally ruined. I kept my legs spread and took three more photos. One hovering above the base of the bottle, and two looking at my pussy - from the front and then angled from below. Most guys like to feel like they did the damage, that a pussy soaked in juices and hanging open was directly related to their athletic sex sport. Show them that they aren't a necessary or even an adequate part of stretching you, and suddenly they are insecure and distracted. So this is something I do on my own.

I'll clean up after I hit the bathroom. I can feel my vaginal walls fluttering without making any internal contact. I'm completely open to the deepest parts of my pussy. More photos though. Standing in front of the full length mirror on the inside of my closet door. I keep the camera high so it blocks my face, and take seven photos. With my legs apart, together, pushing up a boob, pulling on my slick pussy lips, etc. He got me into this and I have to admit it's added something more to the oomph of playing with my collection of bottles. I have photos like this documenting the effects of fucking about ten different bottles so far. You can see the glossy patches of juices and lube sloppily spread from my pelvis to my knees. With my legs apart it's obvious my pussy is split open, and you can either see my labia hanging long and stretched on either side of my gash or pushed together and looking like narrow fingers between my thighs. Yet the rest of the photo is just me, my normal self, maybe a bit disheveled and my bra is a bit messed up.

Partial payment includes these photos too. The more explicit and obscene, the better. And in exchange for every five sets of photos I get one play session from him. He's a wiry guy - lean and powerful in his own way - and works on big projects and programs. He has a famous temper - the number of times he has torn someone to shreds for being a stupid fucker when everyone else would have just kept that inside... just wow. When I met him I was doing knowledge transfer for some bullshit failed Medicare contract, and he took me aside and told me that he only regretted I was working on the same client as him because business and personal stuff don't mix. He sat there is a tailored double breasted suit - who the hell wears those nowadays - and looked me in the eye and said, "You can have any guy you want, but so long as we are both working at this client it'd be better for us to not get involved." When I told him I do what I want with whom I want, he just laughed and added, "Incidentally my contract ends next week, which hotel are you in?"

I got pretty buzzed at dinner with him, so I was feeling no pain when he bottomed out his fist in my pussy that night. Then he started to work his second hand in alongside his forearm, and I felt that super intense stretching feeling I only get from my wine bottles... and I orgasmed so hard I literally soaked his arms and chest and the mattress. He actually asked the front desk for a fresh room after we finished - and he got one! And then we began emailing each other with him teasing me about what I must be fucking, and me teasing him that next time he should take out his cock and finish after getting me off...

Fucking insane but I take the photos and send them to him. And he sends me tips and suggestions, pushing my limits, promising to help me start fucking my ass with bottles when the intensity from my pussy isn't enough. Last time we played he double fisted my pussy, and I swear he started tonguing my ass with his arms in my pussy a good two inches past the wrist, just to torture me while I was peaking and orgasming. I suspect the next session he'll use something other than his cock in my bottom. And while I'm afraid of that, I have been practicing with my fingers and some mini-bottles.

Because it does feel pretty good some nights.

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If I close my eyes, I can see her face and the sultry smile that warmed the coldest of days. If I concentrate, I can feel her skin, run fingertips over its silky smooth surface and smell the light floral fragrance that lingers upon it. And, as I conjure that fragrance, I recall the heat of her body and the electric tingle that arced between us when we kissed. Romilly. I need her, I want her, and if I close my eyes…“Mum!”Snapped back to reality, I see Emma standing, hands on hips, one eyebrow...

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Dear Diary, How did I get here. Someone please pinch me. I was asked on a date from a real sweet guy I met online a while ago. I didn't know what to make of it all and got swept up into an electric current pulling me into the unknown. I have always been drawn to the idea of dating a guy but I never in my wildest dreams thought it would actually happen. I've only ever dated girls before so when Dalton asked me to a date, I was as excited as I was petrified. He expected me to be the...

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Jack and I had gotten away with the perfect murder, so why did I feel so shitty? And, as Jack had said, "The bitch deserved it!" She did, if anyone did, so why did I feel so shitty? The police were at a complete dead end, no closer now to solving it then they were last week. So why did I feel so shitty? I just did, is all. Perhaps the fact that I don't go around killing people, whether they need it or not, as a general practice, figures in somehow. I'm funny that way about killing people....

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I had to listen to my daughter and my four nieces sing “One hundred bottle of beer on the wall” for the entire trip. Not just once either. As soon as they got down to “One” my wife would say, “One more time!” I promised myself that I would kill her later. I had been coerced into this trip. Both of her sisters had been married on the same day in a double wedding ceremony. They were also celebrating their fifteenth wedding anniversary. My wife volunteered to take their daughters with us on...

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The eating and drinking, mostly the drinking went on well into the early morning hours. As the guest of honor I had to remain of course until the very last guest finally left, was carried away or slipped under the tables. It was always windy on Nilfeheim, now during the height of Shortsummer less than usual but a sudden surge of wind made me turn and I saw the enormous ship slowly climb into the sky! Even though I knew about Arti grav, our fliers used it. To see such an enormous object defy...

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You stroll down the narrow streets of the old town, popping into various shops along the way. The client conference is finally over and you are stressed out and exhausted. Eight hours of meetings followed by photo editing late into the night have you completely worn out. You think that a bit of casual boutique shopping might help clear your head and help you relax.Strangely enough, as tired as you are, you are feeling quite pent up as well. You’ve fought to suppress a dull ache in your clit for...

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