#834) My Crease #1

“Argh! There is so much sand up my crease… I’ll never get it all out…”
I’ve taken to calling it my crease, that seam that runs from my butt crack down, including my anus, across the perineum, and then my vagina’s lips. I like the term “crease” more than “seam” or anything else. If it were my seam, then that’d make me the seamstress, the mistress with the deep crevice splitting her up the middle, and I don’t like the sound of that at all. My newly-minted husband, John, knows what I mean when I refer to my crease. Maybe part of its inception was the fact that John pays equal attention to my anus as he does my pussy; he seems to enjoy sex in both a great deal.
“Help me get it out, dear!” I plead and get on all fours on the beach, my south end facing north. John gets up from his lounge-chair and begins brushing me off. “It’ll take more effort than that…!” I correct, so he begins spanking me. “John! We’ll be seen…!”
“I don’t care. Do you want it out or not?”
“I do, but I also don’t want to advertise that we’re kinky!”
So my man uses a combination of quieter love pats and brushing motions.
“How will we know when we’ve gotten it all out?” he wonders.
“We’ll both know if you don’t, the next time you try to fuck me in either of my holes,” I state. “They make sandpaper out of coarse sand like this. Can you imagine the agony of a few grains of sand up my butt hole when you went to fuck me there?” I involuntarily shudder at the thought.
Apparently hearing his lover talk openly about taking it up her tooter arouses John “Let’s go into the cabana,” he recommends eagerly, taking me by the arm.
“It’s not private-enough,” I rejoin, ever the social prude. “…If we’re going to ‘do it’ we’ll have to go back to our bungalow…”
“Are you saying that we can have anal intercourse?”
“Please let me take a shower first…” I answer, but can’t help but smile at his avid interest in the act. If a honeymoon’s success was judged by how times coitus occurred, then ours was a record-winner; my rosebud was still tender from last night’s after-dinner activities.
John didn’t honor my request. He took a shower with me, and could only hold off long enough for me to get a soapy finger up my bung hole before he was in there himself with a lubricated finger. At least we had been successful in eradicating the sand; the bum fuck was great, as slick and slippery as it was sexy and sinful!
“Oh God, I think I love getting it up the ass more than I love regular sex…!” I exclaim, not sure if words were actually forming and coming out, so incredibly intense were the sensations of his cock going in and coming out.
“You are so tight, so uninhibited…!” John replied.
“It’s like… I’m filled to the brim… with your big cock… it occupies all of me… my mind, my rectum… my whole being…”
“I love you, Hilda! So much!”
“I love you, too… I’m about to cum… cum with me… can you?” I reach back and interlace my fingers with all of his. I felt so joined with him, not just physically. My orgasms, and the convulsions they caused in my rectum trigger his. John bellows and bestows jet after hot jet of ejaculate up my insides. His cock slips out of my grip before he was completely through. White, white-hot cum drips down the length of my crease. I let go of his right hand to massage in into my perineum and pussy. I stand up straight, turn around, and cuddle with John face-to-face. Looking him straight in the eye, I declare, “In our lifetime together, I want to fuck you as many times as there are grains of sand on all the beaches of all the world! Think we can do that?” He almost starts to laugh, but then sees that I am serious. I knew it wasn’t possible, but that didn’t diminish my desire.
“Give me a few minutes for refraction,” John stammers, “and I’ll be ready to go again…”
“I can’t wait,” I return, hunger consuming me completely, and I take the cock that is fresh from my ass and swallow it down my throat. It makes me audibly gag, and I have to extract his tumescence for a second to catch my breath. I suck on his length as I pull him from my mouth, and can tell he’s already getting harder. “You’ll find that I’m not a patient girl,” I smirk before taking him back down my throat. “You can spank me for it, if you want, later…”
My mouth music and tonsil tickling bring him back to tensile strength. I want him just as ardently and achingly as before we first started fucking on our honeymoon, or for the very first time ever, for that matter.
“Where do you want me,” I ask, holding his hefty slipperiness like a trout, “in my vag or back up my butt?”
“Isn’t your bottom sore?”
“Yes, but I want to make it good for you,” I demure.
He puts his hands on mine, helps me guide his rigidity into my receptive pussy. This way we can talk, stare longingly at each other as we fuck. Something occurs to me. Our pace is languid and loving, so I can put it into words with little effort.
You know, you have to wonder… who first got the idea of putting a hard cock up another’s anus… Do you think it was a horny caveman whose mate was menstruating, or a horny caveman attracted to another man?”
“I have no idea! How do you think of these things, Hilda?” John laughs.
“I don’t know,” I reply, “they just occur to me. I don’t want to be sidetracked, so persist, “Think about it, though. Being the first one to put your thing where another person shits! And they weren’t so hygienic back in the past. And then when you did, finding that it wasn’t so pleasurable, rather like trying to dig a hole in clay soil, hard going, so you experiment with woolly mammoth grease and then bear grease and then KY jelly to make it better. Well, my point, and I do have one, is that you and I owe that first butt fucker a huge debt of thanks… It’s amazing, really!”
“Why don’t you shut-up and quit thinking and just fuck?” he chortles.
“Why don’t you make me…?” I taunt with a big grin.
Suddenly he makes good on my previous offer to be spanked. Whether it’s for a lack of patience or too many bizarre thoughts or talking so much, it’s a really good spanking, hard, fast, breathtaking, inspirational. It occurs to me that this is why we’re so fucking good together at fucking; we are two peas in a pod, two kinky fuckers who love doing all sorts of nasty shit together. When my butt is cherry red and we are both cheery as can be, he puts his cock back inside me and we really fuck, no words now, no thoughts possible except to let the feelings come, let our orgasms cum, let our juices co-mingle.
With that single concept in mind, and with all of my considerable concentration, I’m able to say, “When you start to cum, pull out…”
John knows that I’m on the pill, and wonders why, but he just keeps hammering on me like an indefatigable blacksmith, and soon my red-hotness is forged, and we are both sizzling and steaming and sighing, and he holds the newly-birthed cock, fresh from out of my vagina gingerly, as though it’s hot to the touch. I direct his magnificence toward my crease as he spurts.
“Why, Hilda, why?” he’s finally able to articulate.
“I just like it… here… on my crease…” and I rub it into my center seam like it’s a balm for all that ails me. I finger the stickiness into both holes, feeling whole. John’s cum is an elixir for me, healing my sex addiction, quieting my pain needs, soothing my fevered lusts.

2 responses to “#834) My Crease #1”

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