We’d have dinner and a bottle of wine, and perhaps a couple of after-dinner drinks, then start to watch a television programme. I’d feel your hand...rubbing the inside of my thigh, and you’d snuggle your head against my shoulder. I’d feel a slight stirring of life in my groin, and would rearrange myself a bit to get more comfortable. Then I’d ask you, “Time for bed?” And we’d drain the last of our drinks, and stand up. Usually I gave you a long kiss about then, indicating that I was feeling. Mabel put her lips close to George's ear and whispered: "Up the back of me," she hissed. "Right into my bottom--" she panted with emotion, "he--he pried open the cheeks and stuck his big thing in me. I--I thought it was going to tear me wide open ... or burn me." Mabel's hand went behind her and she stroked the ample flesh of her buttocks tenderly, as though she could still feel a gross organ piercing into her anal canal. "His stuff," she mouthed, "was scalding hot spurtin' right inside me.". More

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