Buns 'n Roses

By Rose Maru

For a collection of erotic short stories, this buttload of bountiful beauties has far too many titles in the non-fiction section - so many, I had to tweak several up a bit (aka "Tone them down") so they could be considered 'Gray Areas' somewhere between right-and-wrong... I mean, truth-and-fiction.
As always, I include the truth behind the truth (or even the truth behind the almost fiction) in a special section of the book, which you are free to enjoy... or skip if you want to save me the embarrassment of it all.
Topics included:

Introduction
Introduction Strikes Back
-Fiction & Fantasy-
Take Two (unfortunately exactly what the title says)
Pen Jan (see? I'm not the only one in the world that messes up)
Therapy (hypnotic shenanigans - as far as I know, it didn't work)
- Shades of Gray -
Come As You Are ("For Sale"... again)
Randal Two-Fer (I'm not sure if I should do this for him, but hubby gets the spotlight)
Humpable / Not Humpable for Men (Further in-depth research for my readers)
Naughty Girl Everything (No. Just, no, okay?)
-Non-Fiction- (Damn this section is big this time)
Make Me Say It (Still *no*!)
Three Dong Night (Wait - this obviously got put in the wrong section... oh, dammit - it's not)
Double Dog Dare (The ultimate f-ups are always preceded by either a "Double Dog Dare" or "Hey, y'all, watch this!")
Sex Dream - Coming Rain (My first Technicolor sex dream)
Duty Calls (Booty Call for married folk)
Question and Answer with Rose, Session 5
-Bonus (not sexy) Non-Fiction-
Mammography Myth
Conclusion
Truth & Consequences

Cinch'er down and mount up - although I'm bareback on a quarter horse, but feel free to use my ass if you like. Just don't expect a smooth ride if you do.
(You know, sort of like "cowboy sex" - put her on all fours, grab a fistful of hair, a shot of lube, then "Oops" into the wrong hole and try to stay on for eight. (Eight seconds... it's the cut-off to a completed bronc ride... damn, the joke loses its effect if I have to explain everything to you!)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rose Maru
• Release date: Apr 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370131990

Rose Maru

Born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... no, wait, that wasn't me, but sometimes it certainly seems like it.Before getting into all the fun details, I want to clear the air of a rather large aspect of my writing because it has a huge impact on my work: I have HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome). In fact, if it weren't for my HSDS, I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be there reading this - my previously unpublished writings were explorations into kick-starting my, ahem, 'motor.' I tried to explore anything that might cause a little tingle below, even ideas and concepts my thinking brain refused to hear. Creating an alter-ego in my stories allowed me to safely penetrate the veil of non-existence - I was forced to think about sexy thoughts and situations.I wrote for years covering a wide range of topics, my husband providing a large number of seedlings from which to grow my stories (HSDS... what do you expect? Much to my dismay, what I learned to expect was very raunchy pillow-talk. Much to his dismay, he learned to expect me to leap from bed saying, "Oh! That is so good, I've got to write it down!"). It turns out, writing romantic erotica usually wasn't doing it for me. I gave up on it for a period of time - in essence, I gave up trying to help myself, as well.Then my significant's bright idea: if it didn't help me, maybe it would help someone else. I was back to writing again, or more correctly, preparing my work for release unto an unsuspecting public (I have now officially absolved myself from any evil that befalls you after reading my books - it's all his fault). So I dredged up my folder of rough and unpolished stories - damn, I wrote this much? No wonder I wasn't having sex, I was busy writing about it. (Fib alert: so not true it's not funny. Not the 'not having sex' part, but the lack of bedroom action wasn't really due to my writing.)An odd thing happened, though, as I was rereading my material and editing it. I felt a little something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I actually felt a little tingle from down below. That soft little call, while editing some stories, started to get a little louder - still very quiet, but it was most certainly there where it hadn't been for decades. I gave in to the siren call almost immediately - surprised the hell out of my husband (thank goodness it wasn't the UPS guy at the door during those moments). Complete, spontaneous, due-to-my-doing rumpy-bumpy. Holy humper, Batman, I'm fixed!I wish. It disappeared again, just as easily slipping back into my 'normal abnormal' routine of never thinking about it within hours. Back to editing. Being the patient sort, I allowed myself to edit a whole three paragraphs before anguish sets in, "It's not working! Ah! I'm broken forever!" Luckily, I have a never say die attitude (Fib alert: ... no, wait, this isn't my stories where I have to include a 'truth' section - let me have my freaking moment), and said, "Piss on it, I'm still going to release my work. I've come this far."And so it went - although much to my joy (and my hubby's) - every so often, I'd find myself showing such obvious responses to passages, it was apparent to even an HSDS girl - and we'd make joy (sometimes several times) to the situation. I wasn't fixed, but at least I had a crutch.Which leaves me editing my old material, exploring new, and tormenting you with it - where I hope it does you some good, too. If it can't make you happy that way, I hope it'll at least provide you a little laugh the other way - especially since I do provide a 'Truth and Consequences' side to all my stories at the end of each book where I detail the nitty-gritty and harsh reality of every piece. This allows everyone's inner voyeur to be released because my HSDS does a great job of preventing me from grasping 'TMI,' so I tend to spill my guts back there in my books.As for my bio (side note: doesn't that make it an 'auto-bio?'), I'm a cute, twenty-one year-old (Fib Alert! Oh my Lord! If you're writing fantasy-fiction, at least make it believable!) - crap, okay, fine, I'm old enough to probably be your sister - from a second marriage - so we're not blood related, which means you don't have to get all weirded out about reading sex stuff about me) - and I live in the Pacific Northwest where I am still happily married to my first husband (very funny - he edits my other fibs so I have to tell the truth, but leaves the happily married one)... at least until he reads the final published product where I changed the truth section in every book back to being brutally honest contrary to his corrections.And, yes, that is me on the cover of all my books, but I'm not spilling the beans here, you have to read the book.

Book preview

Buns 'n Roses

by Rose Maru

Copyright 2017 Rose C. Maru

First Edition - April 1, 2017

Cover and Photos Copyright 2017 Randal Maru

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only - but if your enjoyment needs cleaning up, please don't e-mail me pictures of it. This series of electrons may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share the love and this e-book with another being, please purchase an additional copy for each sentient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your individual use only, then please feel super guilty and return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your very own copy. Thank you for respecting Rose's hard work.

(They said I wasn't allowed to threaten to go ape-bitch on your ass if you rip-off my book - something about the legal statutes don't have a proper definition of 'ape-bitch' for precedence.)

:Table of Contents:

Introduction

Introduction Strikes Back

-Fiction & Fantasy-

Take Two

Pen Jan

Therapy

- Shades of Gray -

Come As You Are

Randal Two-Fer

Humpable / Not Humpable for Men

Naughty Girl Everything

-Non-Fiction- (Damn this section is big this time)

Make Me Say It

Three Dong Night (Wait - this obviously got put in the wrong section)

Double Dog Dare

Sex Dream - Coming Rain

Duty Calls

Question and Answer with Rose, Session 5

Conclusion

-Bonus (not sexy) Non-Fiction-

Mammography Myth

Truth & Consequences

- Master Index -

-Other Works-

Raindrops on Roses:

- Art Director

- Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome (HSDS/HSDD)

Rose by Any Other Name:

- Bath Time

- Braless is Better

Dozen Roses:

- Bigfoot

- Vulva-Vagina Veracity

Coming Up Roses:

- Bigger Brother Cover Shoot

- Q&A with Rose

Rose Garden: My Life with HSDS:

- Introduction to HSDS

- HSDS 2014 Redoubt (From Raindrops on Roses)

- "Treatment" Trial

- Q&A #2 with Rose (HSDS Topics)

Rose Wood At Home:

- RA Rose

- Q&A with Rose, Session 3

Wars of Roses:

- Road Master

- Q&A with Rose, Session 4

Real Randy Rose:

- Hide and Go-Kiss

- HS TA TA

Rose Art - The Infamous Banned Book

Soul Service, Inc. (Excerpt)

Parade of Roses (the grand master index of Rose kink)

- - - -

About Rose C. Maru

Contact Information

- - - -

Introduction: Buns 'n Rose

(for real this time, dammit!)

This is a new experience for me: planned releases. When I look out the window, it's dark, gloomy, and the rains are continuing to pour from the sky (rumor has it we're running five times normal precipitation) - yes, I'm tweaking the old HSDS 'treatment' idea a little because I've gotten pretty lax. Plus, the coming calendar year is sort of funny where, if all goes well, I'll be able to release on January 7, 2017 (1-7-17: Wars of Rose's) and this compilation book for April Fool's (4-1-17, working title Buns 'n Roses... after Wars went through all those name changes, I'm not even going to pretend to know what the title will be nine months from now. Practically worse than carrying a baby (ha! No.)). (Oops? A funny thing happened on the way to the planned releases... Wars of Roses (premature birth?) made it in December 14, 2016 (12/14/16... still pretty cool, huh?) and Real Randy Rose (surprise!) is now at the 1/7/17 slot... stay tuned for the New and Improved Introduction... coming up next!)

I'm hoping, over the gestation of this particular release, unlike my last one, to keep everything on a positive note. Well, maybe except for finally dusting off my mammography article which has been moldering for years waiting to be released - the silent majority of us are finally getting a little more brave, so I figure in another few months, I can possibly slip it out into the world without too much risk of losing my job if things get back around to pointing it at me. Consider it a bonus piece in here, because it's not sensual or sexy at all... unless you like boobs... not really talked about a lot, except I prefer mine in near original condition. Wait, no, not that I'm saying I like handling other people's boobs, I mean mine. I like them. On me. In one piece.

Otherwise, hang on - for all of us - because even I don't know what's going to follow this introduction (a first for me since I usually write the introduction last, usually even after the conclusion. What? No! I did not read the last chapter of that Harold Potter series and say, What? WTF? Kids? before reading chapter one). I hope it's a fun trollop over hill and Dale... Happy Tails, to you...

- - - -

Truth - Table of Contents

- - - -

The Introduction Strikes Back

Well now, that wasn't planned! About like Rose Wood At Home, I had an entire book burst from the ether, wholly unexpected, unplanned, and, maybe a little uncalled for - depending on what time day you ask me!

How was I to know Randal, in his illogical mind, was crafting a possible release (which as of right now I'm only getting a firmer grasp what he might be planning) and book... with me as co-author (yup - I eventually get told, but he's learned, for many things, it's best to spring them on me at a time when I can't say 'No' because they're already developed to the point where a late term abortion would be morally reprehensible). Which meant he interviewed me - twice. Once as a model, and the other, as boring old me.

It was the last interview that finally woke me up. After my umpteenth, I don't know! - I broke, as the very last set of those three words which concluded the interview about me, I said, Well, how'd I do? The jerk smiled at me, I don't know. And I got it. Which pissed me off: "Fine! You take the damn interview and answer the questions - I want to see your answers."

Apparently that ether needs to be a whole hell of a lot lighter in my next universe, because he did fill out the interview. Completely. And parts of it floored me. I never knew how little I knew about my husband of so many decades. Twa-lah! Real Randy Rose shot out in a matter of weeks, bumping this book back and Wars forward - so I could do the Real book while it was 'hot' and interesting to me before everything faded (much like Rose Wood, which was almost entirely written /outlined during a vacation back home).

That little intersession also meant that I had more time to better organize what I might want in Buns - because, Real was sort of neat having a central theme that carried through it. Which occurred to me that maybe Buns might benefit from the same... but, what could that theme be? Hmmm.

Well, grab hold'a yer ass, folks, and get ready to ride along with my Buns. Let's see where this set of curves takes us.

- - - -

Truth - Table of Contents

- - - -

Take Two... and Action!

Do you want a shot of him as he's first entering me, or just midway through?

The absurdity of that question concerning my second deflowering is almost as bad as the extended discourse needed for my first real virginal deflowering. And it's with the same man. At least the conversation about losing my innocence is with the same man, because, the discussion concerns my first time ever with anyone else entering my secret garden.

Which seems to be about to become very public if this goes well - because I see the third entrant standing quietly off to the side, hands in the pockets of his tight jeans trying to act like he's not paying attention to the conversation.

Whatever you're comfortable with, my photographer is looking down at the general work-flow project ideas - which I have to eventually accept the fact that I helped tweak them around - usually up a notch or three.

Well, I'm not comfortable with any of it... but I'm going to do it. You don't even have to double-dog dare me, I try to say confidently.

Here goes nothing...

Oh, fuck - is that the absolute, most stupid thing that I could've thought - because, it was more than something. It was fucking insane.

The sexual tension: I was a slathering mess. I swear, I could feel my thighs squeaking fluidly past one another while changing positions because - fuck it, time to admit it - I was cumming, possibly more than I ever remember. And he hasn't even put it all the way into me, just toyed around at my entrance while we tried to get the right position for a good camera angle.

You'd think the camera would've created quite the distraction - but honestly, it was the only thing possibly keeping me even partially sane, because there were still some instructions to hear.

I would've never thought, after getting married, being completely happy with the prick - literally and figuratively - I'd ever chance upon the opportunity to... you know. Hell, I never thought it because it never even occurred to me it was something that could happen.

How's that? I semi-croak, having shifted my hips a bit more, feeling the head of his penis pop just a tad bit further in me than previous positions. I try to take a full, deep breath, only to break out into small shallow pants again. And we haven't even got him all the way into me or started... started - seriously? Take a deep, mental breath - fucking. He and I. We're going to... and another gush from me, threatening to cause him to slide out of position.

Great - nice effect with all the moisture coming around... uh, up just a little more - yeah, lift up on the shaft, but keep your hand out of the frame - you know, direct from the base... oh perf...

Ah! Ah! Oh! Uh! Shit! Direct fucking assault! He's lifted it up and forced my... shit! I'm fucking engorged and he's lifted her little head - fuck! - onto his - shit! Quit throbbing! I gasp at my picture partner while I'm trying to hold as still as possible.

Oh, hey, he's got your...

Snap! The Fucking! Picture! I very clearly enunciate.

Click? Click?! Just 'Click'?! Can we, can he... I'm on the verge of passing out in the combination of pissed and position.

Oh, yeah, you can pull back out a lit...

Ohhh. Heavy breathing and deep, full chest heaves. Holy mother of fuck - and I thought it was bad when Randy thought it'd be cute to use a moistened Q-tip to...

Sorry, he says in his deep voice - which, all things considered, does make a difference.

But you were a real trooper! Randy gushes - apparently both of us are gushers today, I try to inwardly make snide comments while regaining my composure.

Isn't it time... Oh, fuck - I didn't just start to ask to be done, did I?

As long as you're ready, he confirms - like he knows what I was getting ready to ask. You're still sure?

He's such a sweetie - not just because he's letting me, but wanting to make sure - I can't believe he's mine. Honestly, I am going to fuck the living stuffing out of him later - and not just because I'm so horn-dogged up, but because he so deserves it.

I think so, I confirm, trying to sound confident.

Take a quick break, fast sip of refreshment, try to replenish your potentially depleting reserves - because you've been making quite the puddle of appreciation down there, he's seen my little faltering in confidence and gives me a chance to be sure - or bail.

I slip on my robe - as if it matters. I mean, both the men in here with me have been staring at my private garden in intimate detail. So the thought isn't completely lost on me... I don't even bother tying it - so it floats behind me more like a cape: The Naked White Chick - I seriously need a better super-hero name.

I know, this is the point where you expect me to go all fluttery and embarrassed and... well, be me.

If you were expecting that, buster, you better just scroll to the end of this story, because, no shit, I'm not skimping this time - because this could very well be my one and only, I'm not about to let it get away with 'fade to black' - although if things keep going how they have so far, I may flush to blackout stage at some point, though - but that'd be a blood pressure issue, not a mental problem.

Our little break is over - it has to be, I'm getting tired of wiping off the shit leaking out of me and running down my leg. My God, I'm a fucking cum machine. Heh - guess so - I can't decide if that's funny or practical. Probably both.

I get settled back into position, him standing, angled slightly between my spread legs - everything out there for him to see, and looking down my naked body, everything of him, big, swollen, and throbbing, dancing just above my waist.

I swear I can smell him - a sexy musk, deep solid breaths causing tingles to brush against my inner thighs, pulling upward slightly off the table top, and inching down slightly more as he's taking one of my legs, creating slightly more lift of my ass and allowing a picture perfect roundness to form - where we hold for a brief moment - we can't forget the real reason I'm going to... for the first time ever... with anyone else.

Oh, whoa! Slow down there little filly - save some of that for when you really need it! and he reaches in to dab away the glistening patch rolling down from ass to table top, threatening to cascade over onto the floor.

I'd be embarrassed, except it seems to be really turning on my cohort who appears as anxious as I am to finally get beyond just toying with the entrance.

While I want to share every detail with you, not because I'm an exhibitionist - it's because I'm fucking greedy as hell: I want to remember every moment of it. If some parts come out confused, intermixed, or just FUBAR - fuck it, I'm trying, okay? And it's because I don't want to miss anything that it might start to get messed up when I put it down here on paper - because I was, seriously, fucked. I mean, fucked up. And down. And again for good measure. Thank the good Lord for the need to ensure proper lighting and fucking angles. Ha - that works, again, both ways.

The brush of a wipe against my ass opening only fires me up more. Oh fuck, I have to have him in me soon or I'm going to fucking explode.

Time seems to slow, I can see every last little ripple across his chest, the feel of his arm as he holds my leg at the perfect angle to ensure my dripping pussy gaps open, hungry to accept him inside me, as deep as he'll go.

I stop hearing posing instructions. I'm listening to my body now, acting out like never before.

Initially I was concerned with me laying back and him practically at a ninety degree angle to me, that he'd be forced into my G-spot routinely - instead, I seem to have an amazing amount of control as he ever so slowly - oh my fucking... - He's really in me. Oh. My. Fuh... oh! Fuh! Shi-uh!

My hips are bucking and fucking, and he's in control of one leg, but I manage to control the tilt, actively cutting him off when he gets too near to my - oh, fuck. Where am I getting the room to... we've slowly been grinding together closer and closer. What was originally a long-distance fuck, relying on his length to keep our bodies from pressing together - my original choice to ensure a difference between - well, you know - I hope. Because no matter how good this feels, it's still not my... he's not my... oh, but fuck, it still feels good.

I slow the unconscious, overly active action from my body, breathe deep, managing to catch an instruction now and then - although from the words of encouragement, I must've provided something good for the sake of art. We're held in position, supposedly by request, but by honest assessment, my tight internal muscle spasms clamped down on him - and from the sweat on his chest, the smell of over-worked deodorant, and half-grin/half-grimace on his face, he knows it. Fuck, where does he get his control, because, fuck it, I've lost track of how many times I've climaxed - I can't call it 'cum,' because that's just not possible to believe what I've got pouring out of me.

I've managed to take him more than three-fourths of the way in, oddly enough, with minimal feeling at this point - just running up and down his shaft in an active 'plow me' straight shot, it's almost like no movement what-so-ever. Shit. I've been over-fucked. I can't believe it, I'm actually hearing the instructions for minor adjustments, and it's like any other shoot - only I have a good seven inches buried up inside me... seven inches of real, not my fucking husband partnuh... uh... oh, shit... brain orgasm. I'm so wet, the sliding isn't perceptible, but staring down my completely naked body, impaled upon - oh, yes, another... ooo... I could get used to this, my breathing quickening in another wave... I completely release him from internal muscular grasp, to be free in my ballooning vaginal vaul... whoa...

His balls slap against my ass and he grinds in hard. Fuck, oh fuck, I didn't want to be fucked this deep, I didn't want... it was for my... oh, shi... uh, oh - shallow, rapid pants as the deepest possible penetration he can give me, yet doesn't reach the dead-end - where the hell did I get the room to take all of him? I'm obviously filled, all the way, but it's not uncomfortable, just mildly ti - oh, holy fucking shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Where the fuck did that one come from?! I crush down on him in a perpetual, forever pulsating, brain fogging, ass-spreading-ball-pressing pleasure flooding heat out of my belly to all points. I think I remember to breath, because I don't pass out.

The deep jerking and pulsing within me suggest he's gone too far - but somehow, sweat dripping from his head onto my bare belly and pussy flat, his eyes clenched tight, I see the veins bulging in his right arm - he's pulled out partway, hand gripping the base of his cock - I swear, squashing his balls as well for all he's worth - anything to keep from ejaculating. I try to remain as still as possible, unable to fully grasp what it must be like to hold back a climax. Strangled guttural groans escape his throat as I watch the inner turmoil fight across his clenched brow. He tenderly pulls back from my body, cooling rivulets of wetness puddle around my ass cheeks. My hands remain clenched at my sides - for once just praying it's all me - the entire waterfall drooling from my gaping entrance. I'll admit I'm a fucking fountain: if only he's able to keep going.

Can you gently lay it across her...

What the fuck? You're still giving him instructions? Can't you see how red and angry that monster is in his hand?! Not to fucking mention that if he lets go, I'm gonna be fucking pissed if it ends up all over me, because it looks like I've gotten my wish and it is all me draining out my still lingering, stretched wide open pussy hole.

Shu.. er, he grunts out. My word, I professional to the end. My pose partner is hot - even hotter now that I know he didn't inside me.

I can see everything down below: that surging, boiling red, swollen crown, the smallest bead of moisture from the tip, pulsing and throbbing, fighting to fuck me again. He wants so bad to be back inside me. I'm getting sweaty and tense, just feeling the building desire from him to hold off - to take me some more, and I'm not going to even try to lie - I need more. I want to tell him hang on - instead, I do my best to breath as little as possible, prevent any movements of my swollen sex from rubbing more than needed against his posed penis, glistening wet all along the shaft from my juices, his balls hanging now more limply - wait. They're dropping back down. Oh, hot damn, he's past the point of no return... on this side of the fence! He should be in a semi-refractory period that would give him virtually unlimited... oh, fuck yeah!

He knows it, too, a smile bleeds across his relaxing lips...

So, we can keep going, huh? I smile back at him.

Yeah, I'm good, and to emphasize it, he slaps that long, slightly throbbing manaconda on the top of my pussy, bending it slightly to drag down, just a touch, across the upper split of my swollen labia below, the pulse easily transferring to the puffy hood over my clit.

If you both need a break, drink, relax for a moment, we can, our artesian director offers.

I consider continuing, but remember how I wasn't feeling as much. It might help to dry out a little and ensure he's past the point of rescue.

I arch my eyebrows, he tilts his head in question.

As long as he'll be okay, sure, I break the unspoken questions.

Yeah, maybe for the best, and he does one more quick slap with it, further down on my engorged pussy lips - making me almost reconsider.

Fuck the robe, I just mop up the fucking hordes of cum that's managed to coat my lower body in disgusting splashes with another towel - I'm getting quite the collection... of wet towels.

The act of having sat up causes me to be somewhat light headed - that or I have too little blood that's not pooled in my sex organs and my fucking swollen boobs - I swear, looking down at the hot red flush across my chest they're a couple cup sizes bigger. Or maybe I'm just feeling sexy as hell, I don't know.

I do know I've completely said 'fuck it' to wearing a robe - I'm just wandering around naked in blatant, 'take me, fuck me' nudity. Freely toying with my nipples while talking with them, so far out of character for me, I have no idea where I came up with the idea, but it certainly seems to be entertaining to all of them: one in grand exposed appreciation, the other having to adjust his pants frequently - and neither really caring it's obvious. I'm rolling in hot emotions, feeling the desire from both of them for my sex. Randal, I am so going to rock your fucking world in a couple hours, you won't know what hit you - I want to make the promise verbally, but with his sensual touches about my body, I think he knows. God help him if he thinks he's going to survive me later and remain conscious - I've never fucked him into oblivion; but there's a first time for everything - I can promise you that: today as my own proof.

Breaks over, time to fuck me some more, and I slap his bare ass. Who, the living hell, just said that? I look around and see everyone moving, responding to my command. Oh, I could get used to this.

Thank goodness, I'm not numb - I can still feel h-... oh, yes - slow, sensual, in the absolutely most grandest entrances, he pushes my lips apart to accept him. Swollen petals pop forth as he withdraws out.

Hey, can you hold her other leg and we pull her out further?

Oh, shit - I completely forgot about number two partner, slowly emerging from the shadows below one of the light stands. Oh. Oh-oh-oh. Another. Oh. Fuck.

And he's been watching me prance around naked. Shit. And he's somehow naked already? How'd that happen without my knowing. Oh, fuck, this is heady stuff - I'm being handled, in my over-wet, over-fucked pussy state, and I can't help but think I can do this. Both of them.

A few more shots - and I suggest the lower pad - which means only one thing, because it was my code for I was feeling comfortable and confident enough to... to continue stretching my boundaries. And stretching that, too.

They help unconnect me from my faithful plug in position, another splot of cum pulls out with him. God, I'm disgusting when I'm getting fucked this hard and long. Somehow I'll live with it, though.

Thank goodness Randy takes over once again, because I don't think I could do the directing at this point: I'm back to brain-lock contemplating the pair of naked men eyeing up my glistening body, completely bare - and they're free to place random touches on me... anywhere.

And my new model coming into the shoot seems to want to make up for lost time, exploring some of the lands he's missed... and getting first crack at handling my breasts - which have been getting woefully inadequate attention, according to them, as they start to receive pleasure as well.

My first, longer suitor, who has spent (I'm not going to give you the pleasure of specifying the clock hours, but it's been long enough duration to be wonderful) all this time making sure I'm ready for anything... he lies upon his back. I manage to tear my new accomplice off my chest, much to her dismay (her dismays? both their dismay? Muddled? Me?)

Randy has me lay face down - on number one fella. My body pressing tightly against his; hot chest muscles flex and move under my breasts, soft movements urge my hips down, legs spread to either side of his, any moment now and I'll be entered - again.

This new position makes everything new - his length becomes a remarkable asset, splitting my swollen flower wide open to flare around his throbbing head. Missionary - my clitoris in full contact on his shaft in this position - I slow the action while settling her down. We slowly glide into full penetration. I slowly accept a few drawn out, deep fuck me thrusts, which I readily return.

I'm obviously wet enough for him again. I nod at our director - who finishes filling everyone else in on what all will be filled on me. My slightly impatient second model finds this to be acceptable and, while I can't see his face, I continue to stare deeply into my current suitor's eyes, the excited tone seems to suggest he's confidently happy enough to have waited it out.

A final check and a last glance down my body.

Yes, I'm ready.

And he pulls out some,