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In the exchange of emails that followed, Sarah told me she thought she wasn't anything special, just an ordinary lady of a certain age, a divorcee who worked in the City and right this minute was single and fancy free. Eventually, she said huskily, 'Look beside the sofa, there's a glass dish there, I want you to hold it up and catch my poo.' Pushing herself up, Sarah reached behind and stuck a manicured finger deep into the turd and smeared it with some of her shit. She shrieked with another orgasm that left her whole body trembling and I gave one last tug of my cock, I wanted more, but my arousal had to be released, I pulled away from her beautiful anus, stood up and ejaculated, my sperm shooting directly onto her asshole.
Hell I still didn't even know her name and I had fucked her ass, pussy and mouth, peed all over her body, drank her piss, fingered her ass and pissed inside her body and even ate her asshole. I told her I am rock hard, ready to fuck your brains out and drink your piss all night long. She told me to stop being such a pussy and let her fucking cum. When she finished cumming she took the top off my drink, slid the cup underneath her pussy and pissed inside my drink. I will probably finger fuck myself tonight about 10 times just thinking of pissing on the way here and cumming at Burger King.
Every time I looked at a girl, my mind would run wild with sick thoughts. I look over at the fat girl in the table across from me, and all I could think about was bending her over that table right in front of her ugly friends, and plowing her ass so hard that her shit hole would permanently gape. I looked down at the beautiful site of my meat completely tearing away at her ass, and was not surprised to see it covered in spots of brown ooze. "Ok, thanks for letting me know Simon!" She said as she walked back towards class, and I did the same.
With Barnaby at the rugby club and Anne at church, Adam had the house to himself for the first time since arriving the previous Friday evening. Although Adam wasn't a bedwetter he was glad to know that Anne clearly had a relaxed attitude to such things and he wondered whether Barnaby's bed was similarly protected – particularly in view of his interests. "Anne if you need the bathroom I'd better go," he stammered, standing up and trying to put his throbbing, swollen cock back in his briefs at the same time. In fact I knew that if Aunt Anne didn't go to the toilet soon she'd shit herself and I think she realised that too as she headed straight for the bathroom.
In need of a poo all morning, she'd actually begun farting twenty minutes earlier whilst still at Wendy's, and Wendy had asked her if she'd like to use the facilities ahead of hitting the open road. Out in the open air it would have been more manageable but the car was a confined space and even after forty years experience of her own farts, some of which had been quite ripe in their day, Anne didn't believe she could smell quite so bad. After what seemed like hours but was really no more than another fifteen minutes, Anne passed the familiar welcome signs to her home town of Attleton Market and drove as quickly as she could to the smart Seventies cul-de-sac where the home she and Brian shared was to be found.
She formed the fingers of her right hand into the shape of a duck's beak, positioned her fingertips at the opening of her cunt hole and slowly pushed them into herself until her whole hand, up to her wrist, was inside her. Master picked up the other half, stood beside her, his cock a couple of inches from her face, and held her turd to her mouth. Master retreated and sat on the toilet to watch her; one turd moving in and out of her cunt, powered by her formidable cunt muscles, the other slipping in and out of her mouth, adding to the creamy chocolate lipstick accumulating on her lips.