Dear Dirty Diary part 17
- 2 years ago
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Dear Dirty Diary - Part 12 free porn video
Dear Dirty Diary,
My darling husband returned today after his five day, late September fishing trip to Schooner Lake. After thorough questioning it turned out he’d gotten a little apprehensive being all alone up there amongst the wailing loons and spirits of dead Algonquin Indians. He swears there’s some kind of energy around the fire pit on the island that spooks him. So he drove back down to the condo to visit the k**s. On the way down from Plevna, he went to a Saturday night concert at Peterborough and saw Lisa Brokop perform. I was so pissed, but when he pulled out a signed copy of her new CD out of his bag I decided to forgive him for his wandering ways.
When I asked him if there were any more presents in his bag, he pulled out an array of HoMEDIC massagers that he’d bought at the Pickering Markets. The big one was shaped like ET’s head and neck and had two black bullet-shaped bumpers on it that looked like bulging eyeballs. Ten others he said he paid $5 apiece for looked like and were labeled as wireless computer mice. Doug took one out of its package after I asked him what good they’d be with my laptop. He said they’d make good stocking stuffers for the Richelieu River gals.
With that he pulled out the waistband of my pants, stuffed it right down inside the front of my underwear then pushed the center button on the mouse. Some computer mouse! It was a personal vibrator designed to just look like a mouse and it was very good. In fact it was very powerful and shook my pussy most exquisitely. Backing up purposely, he grinned from ear to ear as I stepped ahead to kiss him for his marvelous little gizmo. But each step I took, it slipped down and came to rest in my panties like an old sanitary pad. Did I say before it was very powerful? With each stride my inner thighs ground it around unmercifully against my genitalia!
As I struggled back toward the sofa, I noticed another bag had appeared. Laura, the Curious, meandered back toward my husband. I pouted in disappointment when he pushed the off button through my pants and silenced the mouse’s hum. Reluctantly I extracted it from her underpants then snuggled up to my benefactor.
“While I was in Pickering I noticed a new upscale adult boutique, so I naturally had to check it out,” he began.
He told me it was full of all the usual naughty stuff but he was pretty sure I’d love his next gift. With much anticipation on my part, Doug slowly removed a box from his bag. In it was a little pistol-grip drill thing that plugged into the car cigarette lighter. However rather than a drill bit, it had an two inch diameter, three inch long screw auger permanently attached. Its fluting reminded me of the antique glass orange-juicer my grandmother used to have. It took but a second to figure out the intent of this gadget.
“I believe,” he began, ”You might enjoy this much more than an old ice sc****r to get you through the long trip back home, to say nothing of the Cornwall border crossing.”
I told the Elf in no uncertain terms that if this was a dare, I was up for it! To prove myself to be no coward, we set out on a fall foliage tour up around Lake St. Francis that afternoon. I wore a flowery yellow, low cut and cleavage exposing bra dress that rode a good six inches above my knees when I was sitting. Wanting to retain at least a hint of decency, I wore sandals and my stretchy nylon briefs underneath. Doug drove out of Port Louis, along the lakeshore road to St. Barbe, across the bridge to Valleyfield that reminded me of ones we saw along the U.S. Gulf Coast highway then back across the St. Lawrence River. Inspired, I scanned through my mp3 player and put on some old road music. We worked our way back down to Highway 2 where we switched and I drove the 35 miles down along the north shore of the lake.
Driving back toward Cornwall was challenging, particularly when my favorite pervert produced yet another gadget from his bag. He mailed away for the “Bionic Finger” up to Regal in Hawkesbury. He put a bumpy little thimble-like cover over its tip, slipped it on his left index fingertip then clicked its switch. A high-pitched whine immediately signaled its intent and I was not at all surprised when I felt it buzz around the aureole of my right breast. A couple of figure eights across my boobs and both of my teats were sticking out noticeably through my sundress’s bodice. Next it careened over my belly, down my right leg the back up under my skirt. He teased it from thigh to thigh across my pubes but when Doug slid the vibrating little probe down the crotch of my panties, my fingers dug into the steering wheel.
The next thing I knew he was kneeling on the floorboards between the front seats. Half facing me, he lifted up the hem of my dress, pulled out the waistband of my briefs then dropped the mouse massager down inside! He let the waistband snap back, flicked the massager on then shoved it deep down my crotch. He placed it perfectly, trapped inside my billowy panties.
Then he just sat back and grinned like the bad little boy he was. By the time we reached Cornwall Island I’d had two orgasms, was working into the third, when he had me pull off the highway for a pit stop. Doug had his pee, climbed back in then got out the screw blender. Parked on the shoulder, I hiked my skirts up and pulled down the front of my big silky panties. He removed the mouse then carefully positioned the drill between my thighs with the pistol grip facing up.
Doug plugged the power cord into the lighter socket then flicked the switch on for a test run. The dry screw spun around a few times then bored itself into me immediately and stalled! Figuring I’d need lots of lubrication for the dare, I got out my trusty tube of KY and moved the toy out of the way. I split my labia with one hand then squeezed a quarter or the tube right into myself. I slapped more lube all over my labia and greased up the screw for good measure. I wiped my fingers, pressed the drill back in comfortably, readjusted my panties so they would contain any splattering KY, straightened my skirts then put the van into gear.
Once back on the highway, I focused myself. I put my van on cruise for the five miles to the border then told him to plug it in. Again it dug itself right into me, but this time it caught some KY and spread it around in no time. As if the boring machine wasn’t enough, he decided the Bionic Finger should be part of the program as well. As the drill spun away, up went my skirt and down my underpants went that surprisingly powerful little vibrator. For the second time in two days, there I was again, “taking it like a woman,” as the drill whined, the finger buzzed and the juices splattered up the insides of my panties. I was behind the wheel, with my legs spread apart, having my vulva mercilessly churned, my clitoris and aureoles deliciously vibrated, while hurtling directly towards the US Customs kiosk! As I touched the brakes to slow for the inspection, my husband turned up the air conditioner fan to cover the noise of the drill, smoothed out my skirts then buzzed my nipples again with the Bionic Finger.
A serious looking male Customs agent looked in at us both, asked us where we were born, how long we’d be in the USA and what the purpose of our visit was. He must have intimidated me somehow, causing my vulva to squeeze down hard on that spinning screw. The little motor started to howl. Suddenly the pistol grip started to smack against my thighs then up against my skirt as the whole thing started to spin! He peered down just in time to see the power cord whip out of the lighter and disappear up under my dress. In an instant he was on his walky-talky. A door opened in a building to the right and two more Customs agents motioned me over toward them. Doug’s face blanched white as they approached our van.
“Step out of the car please!” was all I heard as blood pounded up the back of my neck!
When I said, “I’m not sure that I can,” I saw the woman’s hand pull her riot stick from her belt. I spun around to face her, all set to beg for mercy and saw, wouldn’t you known it, St. Regis! Then my face blushed beet red. Through my open window I jabbered away excitedly about Doug’s dare and the sex toy up under my skirt, at which time my beautiful Mohawk princess slipped on a pair of blue rubber gloves.
As Doug got out his door so the other agent could search our van, she said to me, “You know I have to see what you’re concealing under your dress, don’t you?” She opened my door, took me firmly by the arm and led me inside the building.
My vulva, by that time, had released its hold on the drill’s screw and the whole thing just dropped into my panties. I hobbled bow-legged along into a cold room where she promptly had me sit on the examination table inside. She clicked on a video camera mounted on a tripod in the corner, explaining that all searches must be fully documented to serve as submit able evidence. My insane secret fantasy was coming true and my mind was awash in emotion. When she ordered me to remove my dress, I obediently complied. There I sat, dressed in my granny panties with a huge twisted up wad in front and a tangled up cord dangling out over their waistband. And of course, as if they weren’t already hyper enough from the Bionic Finger, the cold had stiffened my nipples fat and hard!
St. Regis followed the power cord up between my legs, hooked her finger around my waistband, pulled it out as far as it would stretch then peeked down inside my panties.
“My, my, what have we in here?” she questioned as she plucked my toy out.
“It’s a car-trip sex toy for women that my husband and I were trying out,” I answered.
“And exactly does this drill contraption do for you?” my raven-haired beauty continued.
“We only had it going for ten minutes, but it basically drills into and churns up my pussy,” I answered honestly.
“You realize I have to do a cavity search now to find out what kind of d**gs you’re on and might be carrying, so off with the underwear then lay back on the examining table,” she ordered.
As soon as my bare back touched down on the cold vinyl pad, she pulled out two metal stirrups out of the table and placed my feet in them. I’d been through this enough times at my doctors to know what it was going to feel like so I decided this was my big opportunity to witness it firsthand. I propped myself up with my arms stretched out a little behind me before she started. St. Regis looked at me nervously for a second then proceeded. She bent down with her little flashlight and looked my genitalia over carefully.
She got a speculum out of a drawer, warmed it briefly in her hands then inserted it in me. I felt my vulva spread and cool air invade my vagina with the first click of the speculum’s lock. As I watched her raven hair flutter in the air conditioner’s breeze, I felt another then another click as she spread me wider and wider. As she carefully scrutinized my vagina for a cache of hidden contraband, I felt the corners of my mouth involuntarily upturn at the irony of it all. She glanced up at me and saw my smirk. She squeezed it open as far as it could go then released and removed the speculum. An authoritarian expression swept across her face and St. Regis lubed up her right hand.
“Oh my god, she’s gonna fist me!” I thought as she clustered her fingers.
I got all tingly excited as I felt her fingers press my labia in then half closed my eyes as her push seared through my vulva. Again I was in my glory, taking it all like a woman and taking it good too, considering the surroundings. With steadfast determination, she felt every square inch of my vagina as I humped my hips absentmindedly. At that point, she abruptly withdrew her hand. She changed her right hand glove, lubed up her index finger and headed down to my rectum! With her smooth latex-covered digit she probed around for a few seconds then took it upon herself to poke her thumb into my pussy as well! When she began to wriggle her thumb about at the same time as she was sliding her finger in and out of my rectal passage, I suppose I shouldn’t have closed my eyes or moaned through my nostrils in my excitement. When I did reopen them I realized she was staring at my face.
She stopped her pleasing manipulations and began: “In my time with the Customs Department I have had to do cavity searches on quite a number of suspicious women. All of those women lay back, faced the wall, cringed, whimpered or cried during the procedure. Never before has anyone sat up and watched! Never before have I examined an attractive middle-aged woman dressed like a twenty-five year old at Club Med, with a shaved pubes and a gold ring pierced right through her erect clitoris! Never before have I examined anyone driving through a U.S. point of entry with a sex toy in her underwear and never before have I inserted a speculum into an already dilated vulva! Get up, get dressed and go back to Canada where you belong. I believe you are some kind of a perverted sexual predator and as a representative of the United States Government, I’m denying you entry to my country!”
My bubble of bliss was instantly broken and I was flabbergasted as I tugged up my panties so I said back, “Do you really mean that bringing an elevated libido into your country is now i*****l?”
As St. Regis clicked off the video camera, she taunted back, “In President Bush’s post 911 America, Homeland Security guidelines make your actions a threat my dear, so take your libido back to where it’ll be tolerated. You’re old enough to know better than to pull pranks like this.”
As I tugged down my dress, I asked, “Will this tape of me be used against me next time I enter the U.S.?”
She replied, “It will be the senior agent’s call what happens.” As for my toy, St. Regis slapped my hand and said, “No, this must be confis**ted because you are likely to re-offend with it and endanger innocent peoples’ lives while under the influence of its distraction.”
As I turned to exit the room she touched my arm and said, “What in hell would ever make you pull such a stunt?”
I explained the toy was a gift from my husband and I used it on a dare.
“A dare?” she shouted!
Nearing my van, I told her that I went through the border on a dare because I’d gotten away with something very similar about three months ago right here. Her left eye squinted sternly as I slammed my door shut. I shifted into reverse and told her through my open window that the last time I used an ice sc****r inside myself and thought obscene thoughts of her fisting me as she let us pass into the U.S.A.
“So you see Princess, you may have denied me a short trip home, but I already had your hand for lunch! If you want to be had again at our Girls’ Night, look me up at “Our Little Secret” over in Port Louis,” I taunted as we circled back up into Cornwall.
*****************************************
My darling husband returned today after his five day, late September fishing trip to Schooner Lake. After thorough questioning it turned out he’d gotten a little apprehensive being all alone up there amongst the wailing loons and spirits of dead Algonquin Indians. He swears there’s some kind of energy around the fire pit on the island that spooks him. So he drove back down to the condo to visit the k**s. On the way down from Plevna, he went to a Saturday night concert at Peterborough and saw Lisa Brokop perform. I was so pissed, but when he pulled out a signed copy of her new CD out of his bag I decided to forgive him for his wandering ways.
When I asked him if there were any more presents in his bag, he pulled out an array of HoMEDIC massagers that he’d bought at the Pickering Markets. The big one was shaped like ET’s head and neck and had two black bullet-shaped bumpers on it that looked like bulging eyeballs. Ten others he said he paid $5 apiece for looked like and were labeled as wireless computer mice. Doug took one out of its package after I asked him what good they’d be with my laptop. He said they’d make good stocking stuffers for the Richelieu River gals.
With that he pulled out the waistband of my pants, stuffed it right down inside the front of my underwear then pushed the center button on the mouse. Some computer mouse! It was a personal vibrator designed to just look like a mouse and it was very good. In fact it was very powerful and shook my pussy most exquisitely. Backing up purposely, he grinned from ear to ear as I stepped ahead to kiss him for his marvelous little gizmo. But each step I took, it slipped down and came to rest in my panties like an old sanitary pad. Did I say before it was very powerful? With each stride my inner thighs ground it around unmercifully against my genitalia!
As I struggled back toward the sofa, I noticed another bag had appeared. Laura, the Curious, meandered back toward my husband. I pouted in disappointment when he pushed the off button through my pants and silenced the mouse’s hum. Reluctantly I extracted it from her underpants then snuggled up to my benefactor.
“While I was in Pickering I noticed a new upscale adult boutique, so I naturally had to check it out,” he began.
He told me it was full of all the usual naughty stuff but he was pretty sure I’d love his next gift. With much anticipation on my part, Doug slowly removed a box from his bag. In it was a little pistol-grip drill thing that plugged into the car cigarette lighter. However rather than a drill bit, it had an two inch diameter, three inch long screw auger permanently attached. Its fluting reminded me of the antique glass orange-juicer my grandmother used to have. It took but a second to figure out the intent of this gadget.
“I believe,” he began, ”You might enjoy this much more than an old ice sc****r to get you through the long trip back home, to say nothing of the Cornwall border crossing.”
I told the Elf in no uncertain terms that if this was a dare, I was up for it! To prove myself to be no coward, we set out on a fall foliage tour up around Lake St. Francis that afternoon. I wore a flowery yellow, low cut and cleavage exposing bra dress that rode a good six inches above my knees when I was sitting. Wanting to retain at least a hint of decency, I wore sandals and my stretchy nylon briefs underneath. Doug drove out of Port Louis, along the lakeshore road to St. Barbe, across the bridge to Valleyfield that reminded me of ones we saw along the U.S. Gulf Coast highway then back across the St. Lawrence River. Inspired, I scanned through my mp3 player and put on some old road music. We worked our way back down to Highway 2 where we switched and I drove the 35 miles down along the north shore of the lake.
Driving back toward Cornwall was challenging, particularly when my favorite pervert produced yet another gadget from his bag. He mailed away for the “Bionic Finger” up to Regal in Hawkesbury. He put a bumpy little thimble-like cover over its tip, slipped it on his left index fingertip then clicked its switch. A high-pitched whine immediately signaled its intent and I was not at all surprised when I felt it buzz around the aureole of my right breast. A couple of figure eights across my boobs and both of my teats were sticking out noticeably through my sundress’s bodice. Next it careened over my belly, down my right leg the back up under my skirt. He teased it from thigh to thigh across my pubes but when Doug slid the vibrating little probe down the crotch of my panties, my fingers dug into the steering wheel.
The next thing I knew he was kneeling on the floorboards between the front seats. Half facing me, he lifted up the hem of my dress, pulled out the waistband of my briefs then dropped the mouse massager down inside! He let the waistband snap back, flicked the massager on then shoved it deep down my crotch. He placed it perfectly, trapped inside my billowy panties.
Then he just sat back and grinned like the bad little boy he was. By the time we reached Cornwall Island I’d had two orgasms, was working into the third, when he had me pull off the highway for a pit stop. Doug had his pee, climbed back in then got out the screw blender. Parked on the shoulder, I hiked my skirts up and pulled down the front of my big silky panties. He removed the mouse then carefully positioned the drill between my thighs with the pistol grip facing up.
Doug plugged the power cord into the lighter socket then flicked the switch on for a test run. The dry screw spun around a few times then bored itself into me immediately and stalled! Figuring I’d need lots of lubrication for the dare, I got out my trusty tube of KY and moved the toy out of the way. I split my labia with one hand then squeezed a quarter or the tube right into myself. I slapped more lube all over my labia and greased up the screw for good measure. I wiped my fingers, pressed the drill back in comfortably, readjusted my panties so they would contain any splattering KY, straightened my skirts then put the van into gear.
Once back on the highway, I focused myself. I put my van on cruise for the five miles to the border then told him to plug it in. Again it dug itself right into me, but this time it caught some KY and spread it around in no time. As if the boring machine wasn’t enough, he decided the Bionic Finger should be part of the program as well. As the drill spun away, up went my skirt and down my underpants went that surprisingly powerful little vibrator. For the second time in two days, there I was again, “taking it like a woman,” as the drill whined, the finger buzzed and the juices splattered up the insides of my panties. I was behind the wheel, with my legs spread apart, having my vulva mercilessly churned, my clitoris and aureoles deliciously vibrated, while hurtling directly towards the US Customs kiosk! As I touched the brakes to slow for the inspection, my husband turned up the air conditioner fan to cover the noise of the drill, smoothed out my skirts then buzzed my nipples again with the Bionic Finger.
A serious looking male Customs agent looked in at us both, asked us where we were born, how long we’d be in the USA and what the purpose of our visit was. He must have intimidated me somehow, causing my vulva to squeeze down hard on that spinning screw. The little motor started to howl. Suddenly the pistol grip started to smack against my thighs then up against my skirt as the whole thing started to spin! He peered down just in time to see the power cord whip out of the lighter and disappear up under my dress. In an instant he was on his walky-talky. A door opened in a building to the right and two more Customs agents motioned me over toward them. Doug’s face blanched white as they approached our van.
“Step out of the car please!” was all I heard as blood pounded up the back of my neck!
When I said, “I’m not sure that I can,” I saw the woman’s hand pull her riot stick from her belt. I spun around to face her, all set to beg for mercy and saw, wouldn’t you known it, St. Regis! Then my face blushed beet red. Through my open window I jabbered away excitedly about Doug’s dare and the sex toy up under my skirt, at which time my beautiful Mohawk princess slipped on a pair of blue rubber gloves.
As Doug got out his door so the other agent could search our van, she said to me, “You know I have to see what you’re concealing under your dress, don’t you?” She opened my door, took me firmly by the arm and led me inside the building.
My vulva, by that time, had released its hold on the drill’s screw and the whole thing just dropped into my panties. I hobbled bow-legged along into a cold room where she promptly had me sit on the examination table inside. She clicked on a video camera mounted on a tripod in the corner, explaining that all searches must be fully documented to serve as submit able evidence. My insane secret fantasy was coming true and my mind was awash in emotion. When she ordered me to remove my dress, I obediently complied. There I sat, dressed in my granny panties with a huge twisted up wad in front and a tangled up cord dangling out over their waistband. And of course, as if they weren’t already hyper enough from the Bionic Finger, the cold had stiffened my nipples fat and hard!
St. Regis followed the power cord up between my legs, hooked her finger around my waistband, pulled it out as far as it would stretch then peeked down inside my panties.
“My, my, what have we in here?” she questioned as she plucked my toy out.
“It’s a car-trip sex toy for women that my husband and I were trying out,” I answered.
“And exactly does this drill contraption do for you?” my raven-haired beauty continued.
“We only had it going for ten minutes, but it basically drills into and churns up my pussy,” I answered honestly.
“You realize I have to do a cavity search now to find out what kind of d**gs you’re on and might be carrying, so off with the underwear then lay back on the examining table,” she ordered.
As soon as my bare back touched down on the cold vinyl pad, she pulled out two metal stirrups out of the table and placed my feet in them. I’d been through this enough times at my doctors to know what it was going to feel like so I decided this was my big opportunity to witness it firsthand. I propped myself up with my arms stretched out a little behind me before she started. St. Regis looked at me nervously for a second then proceeded. She bent down with her little flashlight and looked my genitalia over carefully.
She got a speculum out of a drawer, warmed it briefly in her hands then inserted it in me. I felt my vulva spread and cool air invade my vagina with the first click of the speculum’s lock. As I watched her raven hair flutter in the air conditioner’s breeze, I felt another then another click as she spread me wider and wider. As she carefully scrutinized my vagina for a cache of hidden contraband, I felt the corners of my mouth involuntarily upturn at the irony of it all. She glanced up at me and saw my smirk. She squeezed it open as far as it could go then released and removed the speculum. An authoritarian expression swept across her face and St. Regis lubed up her right hand.
“Oh my god, she’s gonna fist me!” I thought as she clustered her fingers.
I got all tingly excited as I felt her fingers press my labia in then half closed my eyes as her push seared through my vulva. Again I was in my glory, taking it all like a woman and taking it good too, considering the surroundings. With steadfast determination, she felt every square inch of my vagina as I humped my hips absentmindedly. At that point, she abruptly withdrew her hand. She changed her right hand glove, lubed up her index finger and headed down to my rectum! With her smooth latex-covered digit she probed around for a few seconds then took it upon herself to poke her thumb into my pussy as well! When she began to wriggle her thumb about at the same time as she was sliding her finger in and out of my rectal passage, I suppose I shouldn’t have closed my eyes or moaned through my nostrils in my excitement. When I did reopen them I realized she was staring at my face.
She stopped her pleasing manipulations and began: “In my time with the Customs Department I have had to do cavity searches on quite a number of suspicious women. All of those women lay back, faced the wall, cringed, whimpered or cried during the procedure. Never before has anyone sat up and watched! Never before have I examined an attractive middle-aged woman dressed like a twenty-five year old at Club Med, with a shaved pubes and a gold ring pierced right through her erect clitoris! Never before have I examined anyone driving through a U.S. point of entry with a sex toy in her underwear and never before have I inserted a speculum into an already dilated vulva! Get up, get dressed and go back to Canada where you belong. I believe you are some kind of a perverted sexual predator and as a representative of the United States Government, I’m denying you entry to my country!”
My bubble of bliss was instantly broken and I was flabbergasted as I tugged up my panties so I said back, “Do you really mean that bringing an elevated libido into your country is now i*****l?”
As St. Regis clicked off the video camera, she taunted back, “In President Bush’s post 911 America, Homeland Security guidelines make your actions a threat my dear, so take your libido back to where it’ll be tolerated. You’re old enough to know better than to pull pranks like this.”
As I tugged down my dress, I asked, “Will this tape of me be used against me next time I enter the U.S.?”
She replied, “It will be the senior agent’s call what happens.” As for my toy, St. Regis slapped my hand and said, “No, this must be confis**ted because you are likely to re-offend with it and endanger innocent peoples’ lives while under the influence of its distraction.”
As I turned to exit the room she touched my arm and said, “What in hell would ever make you pull such a stunt?”
I explained the toy was a gift from my husband and I used it on a dare.
“A dare?” she shouted!
Nearing my van, I told her that I went through the border on a dare because I’d gotten away with something very similar about three months ago right here. Her left eye squinted sternly as I slammed my door shut. I shifted into reverse and told her through my open window that the last time I used an ice sc****r inside myself and thought obscene thoughts of her fisting me as she let us pass into the U.S.A.
“So you see Princess, you may have denied me a short trip home, but I already had your hand for lunch! If you want to be had again at our Girls’ Night, look me up at “Our Little Secret” over in Port Louis,” I taunted as we circled back up into Cornwall.
*****************************************
Rowan
- 07.07.2020
- 24
- 0
