Female relieves stress using a vibrator


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Come dinnertime, a babble of voices took over my living room. Polite and not-so-polite conversations flowed here and there. About a dozen intimate friends littered the nook and cranny. On the center table was a colorful spread of medium-rare racks of lamb and bottles of Merlot. Slow sultry jazz sizzled the ambience. It was the perfect meetup.

But not perfect for my present state: between my legs a hellish ache started to demand respite. An abrupt sting of need had begun its slow assault along the moistening lips of my pussy.

“Gloria, the next sleepover should be at your place,” my guests had all said the week before. “It’s gonna be so much fun.” 

Yeah, right. In my naiveté, I had agreed to their plans.

Now, here I was—the only single friend—amidst a brood of shameless couples. I tried to play it cool, dousing the awkwardness with a plastic grin. Then minutes into the night, my façade cracked. This hellish longing between my thighs surged without a sliver of warning. Perhaps it was the wine; perhaps it was George’s sweet body under that tight shirt. 

I became restless. “My dildo,” I almost screamed, almost faltering on my feet. Thankfully, my needful throes were buried by the party noise. My eight-inch dildo, my wellspring of goodness and the only cure for my current misery, waited on my bed stool.

When it was time for the toast, I tried every trick in the book, doing slow dances on the lounge to stem this inevitable tide. My left hand covertly snaked down my crotch, lifted the hem of my skirt, and tapped the bulge of my panties. It didn’t work: I needed my glorious faux cock. 

Maybe if I tighten my opening, I thought, perhaps the friction would burn out my hungry flames. But even as I cross my legs to fight the tingling, the brute pressure kept waging war on my lady folds and seeping warm wetness into my underwear. It took all my willpower, but I managed to peel my eyes off George’s crotch. Wasn’t he Ana’s fiancé? 

My body eased a bit, but it was all a cruel trick. “Tonight of all nights,” I muttered under my breath. Now I could barely respond to questions thrown my way. A sick electric wave was coursing through my soul. My eight-inch stick of joy calling for me. I couldn’t hold it anymore. I tiptoed from the gathering, then dashed up a flight of stairs. The babble of voices lowered as I ascended; however, echoes of my name filtered from worried voices. 

My dildo. Panting and puffing like the winds of a bad storm, I barged into my bedroom and swept the door shut. 

Silence.

Alone time didn’t help cool my dirty thoughts. I entered my dim-lit bedroom, which was washed with a soft orange glow. I found my dildo drenched in a blinding blue halo on my bed stool. Grand as usual. I gasped upon setting my eyes on it. Eight-inch of thick and filling delight. Smooth, pink, veined and lifelike—man’s greatest tool without the baggage of men.

I picked the dildo up and smiled. A blue light of understanding flickered in my eyes. Swirling the phallus around my upper lip in a luscious semicircle, the toy slipped into the moist cave of my mouth; it made a wet plop sound when I pulled it out. 

“Lubrication,” I hissed. No need. Teary-eyed, I let my finger hook and toy with the elastic of my thong. My womanhood untouched but leaking. I reached between my legs and pressed my fingers against my clitoris, which was already peeking from its shriveled hood. My flames beckoned.

Shedding my moist thong and parting my thighs, I acquainted the dildo with the warm waft of my lady juice, which was flaring my nose. This moistness was my elixir—long concocted since the first time I used the faux cock. Peeping through the moist lips of my womanhood, the cockhead spotted a concentrated appeal. Now, by just tapping, I was watering myself down into jitteriness.  

I whimpered a little. A different kind of dull ache had overtaken me. I settled on my cozy bed, tuning out the music downstairs and splaying my legs the more. Waist-deep in the shores of no return, my young pussy looked pitiful but ready. 

My pussy ached to be filled, my little pearl swollen and desperate. It was now or never. I took in a deep breath as the dildo sought to calm my storms. As I flicked my little bud with the toy, my heart started to beat a little faster, my breathing getting a little shallower, but the warm release I so craved never came. 


My fingertips trailed the outside of my soft folds as I maneuvered the rubbery girth of the toy—letting it run along the outside of my firm labia. I arched my back until the tip of the dildo was nestling in my moistened entrance. 


Savoring the moment, I paused.


I raised a defiant head to the ceiling. Needless to say, my belly started to flood with a tingling heat, spreading fast down my slippery walls in a fiery sugariness. As I slowly dipped the faux cock around the lips of my sex, my body squirmed. Teasing my bulge with the head of the faux cock, my cheeks came ablaze. The dildo collected my juices as I slapped it against my delicate hood.

With my legs now slightly apart, I sank two inches more of the eight-inch wonder deeper down my wet feminine secret. I became uncultured now. Inhaling deeply, my pert nipples strained against the confines of my décolletage as I took in the sweet girth of the dildo.

“Gloria? Gloria, where is she?” a gruff voice broke into my ears.

Then I was motionless, thrumming with an inner current. Seconds later, I unfroze, and without a care in the world, I dug another inch of the sweet meat down my tired defenses. My senses screamed as I twisted and burrowed the toy like a hunting serpent. 

Footsteps came pattering down my hallway; I held my breath until the coast was clear. Probably someone who was looking for the bathroom.

Fired up more than ever, I guided the shaft and twisted. Unable to help myself, I let out a soft groan and broke down on the mattress. Now I had flattened my hand against the rigid shaft—a skill that didn’t come easy—to maneuver the girth up and down in a gentle rhythm.

“Oh, yes, baby,” I mewled, unsheathing the dildo and staring at it with utter astonishment. Along the underside of the dildo, I ran my fingers and mapped the thick veins beneath. Perfect.

Still burning with energy, I melted the cock-head against my essence, and soft moans purred from my lips. I felt an odd clenching in my abdominal muscles as I plunged. 

My unusual dampness caused a riot, as I was flushing and lavishing the faux cock with moist attention. I paused, hoping for the wave to pass. A wonderful heat drizzled from my core, urging me to resume the indulgence. Yes. Firming up my grip on the girth, I pumped hard and fast, working toward the most heavenly moment. My hand became a blur. My lips a prattling entity, spittle collecting in the corner of my lips. I bit my lips and my eyes fluttered closed as I lifted a string of sticky ooze from my pussy lips. 

“Oh, yes,” I muttered, lost in such unforgivable relish.  

As the shaft parted my silky slit, I reveled in the slickness of my outer labia; the enormous toy flowed back and forth. Taken by some wild entity, my eyes became slits, as I played myself like an instrument. Biting back a moan, I squirmed at every touchdown of the rubbery delight.  

“Fuck…” I slipped the dildo out of my pussy and probed it around the tight hole of my anus. “Oh my…” My heart rose hot in my throat as the faux cock nudged my waiting entrance, yielding to a foolish pleasure. My body had to stretch to accommodate the heat and fullness of the toy. With shallow teases of my rosebud, I reduced myself into a silly whimper.

Just then, more legs tapped on the stairs. Almost in tears, I crawled on my fours to the door and peered through the keyhole, with the dildo, of course, still stuck in my moist hole.

I tried to stand, to see if anyone was lurking. Bad idea. The bulbous head of the toy snaked deeper into my ass. I wailed. The exquisite torture was delicious but straining. I tottered on my feet, collapsed on the chair of my vanity, and dug out the meat from my anus. “Gloria, you have had enough,” I told myself. “Just go down and act normal and forget about this.”

That was never going to be the case.

My hands worked on their own and returned the glistening eight-inch into my secret wells. For extra lubrication, I traced tiny, luscious circles around my stiff bundle of nerve. Next came the sticky, squelching noises of the unhurried penetration of the pink delight. I stuck out my tongue in foolish pleasure. My legs thrashing… I didn't wish this to end.

Soon I was going a little faster; erratic strokes that caused me meet every morsel of the faux cock with my thrusting hips. I was on the brink of an unholy ecstasy as I reveled around my velvety interiors. The late winter air became humid, wafting with the smell of my juices in the bedroom. My breasts bounced forward, popping out of my bra. My exposed nipples, stiffened by the cold winter air, were telltale signs of pervasion.

Knuckles rapped on the bedroom’s door. “Gloria, are you okay?” Ana asked. “We are about to start the movie.”

Sweat popped on my forehead. “I’ll be-be-be down in a mi-mi-minute,” I stuttered like machine-gun.

Satisfied with the response, she left. 

Without giving it a second thought, I set the pink dildo upright on the floor and mounted it, holding it in place with my left hand. I clenched my muscles and clamped myself around the shaft.

I began to pound high and low with delicious relish. I rode closer and closer to climax and my engorged bud begged for deliverance. The sweet knot of pleasure caused whispers of blasphemies under my breath. Burning white-hot from within, my essence felt alive with energy. 

Biting my lip to stop myself from crying, I kept a steady rhythm upon the erect toy. With my ruddy ass shot up the air, I was ramming down with precision even in the low light. With each back and forth movement, I clenched my thighs in a death grip, savoring the moment. Dirty thoughts elevated my mind. Urgent groans escaped my lips. Stretched to my absolute limit by the fat dildo, my floodgate groaned for relief. To no avail, I tried to contort my body in a way that would suppress this wicked torment. No way.

Spreading my hands up in the air in blatant gratitude, I drew near the torrent. Breathlessly, I gripped the foot of the bed for balance with my free hand. Then my misery grew a staggering notch. 

The frothy slush in my pussy gave way to a burning pungent smell of prolonged agony. My Waterloo came as bright spots of color flamed in my cheeks. The flesh on my back broke out in hard ridges of gooseflesh. This was my end. 

“Georgie!” I cried. The name came from the depth of my need. I had finally found a good name for my sweet eight-inch dildo. And with almost seven inches buried inside of me, I knew I had been forever possessed. Addicted. My face had become a plate of mottled colors. My mouth let out a silent scream and my clitoris bulged under its hoody flap of flesh. I rolled my eyeballs to the gunpowder blowing up my brain.

Finally.

The Rosebud

My legs had become jelly when I stood up. But my anus still begged for a taste of Georgie. Kneeling, I stabbed my rosebud. “Too much!” I boomed. My buttocks met the bulbous head with feeble resistance. My sheer tightness stole the crown with enflamed lust. But it wouldn’t do. I needed it go “Deeper!”

I was wheezing now, feeling my throat closing up to a pinhole as this faux shaft broke the fence of my anus. The assault made tear-soaked makeup run down my face in muddy tracks. 

Frustrated, I continued to twist and whine. I had become a puppet to the depravedness. A tool for its whim—a wet tight cave for the faux cock. I wanted more, so my hips came alive by reflex, slamming backward to enjoy the sweet friction.

Slowly, a primal arousal in my soul erupted like a volcano. Breathing hard, I moaned to the sweet relief of each alternating stroke between my rosebud and my pussy.

My bosom rose and fell and my hips gyrated in circles. I was so doomed with carnal pleasure, the pink shaft shimmered with the moist evidence of my lust. Biting my bottom lips and fluttering my mascaraed eyes, over and over again I drove myself to a point of no return. My face became an ugly, scrunched-up mess.

My vibrant eyes were now stupid slits. Soon my throes of pleasure were transformed into a dumb shout. Even in my unattended pussy, juice still gushed… Plunging the awe-inspiring length deeper inside me, I went mad. An impending apocalypse was on the horizon. Soon a wave of sweetness would be crashing down my resistance and anger. “So good!” I cried my approval, as saliva frothed down the corner of my mouth. 


Just then—when space and time seem to stand still—my back arched as an overwhelming spasm cascaded over me. Vivid visions of galaxies in rainbow colors awakened made my mouth jabber. 

Oh, this fleshy contraption. My hip and spine, having lost control of both, were bucking in mania. Soon I was forcing myself to inhale, but it was if someone had sucked the air out the room. I was inside another dimension, afflicted by the boiling eight-inch delight tearing through the virgin walls of my anus. 

In the end, I was like a faucet. The flow set a devastating pace and didn’t stop. My senses were drifting; there was no use fighting it. There was only a sweet surrender to the wetness. 

When my stream began to ebb, I shuddered back into control. 

The Vibration

Georgie vibrated—of course, it had to be multipurpose. Kneeling, I allowed the dildo vibrate inside the slick of walls my womanhood, then I peeled off my bra and tugged at my pale strawberry nipples. The mishmash of sensation sent shockwaves around the hollow of my shoulders and up the nape of my neck. 

Flushed and full of life, I enjoyed the resultant vibration on my clitoris. “Oh yes, yes!” I hissed, taking up the tingling of this faux cock—curved and veiny in its grandeur. My breathing grew shallower and I lost count of time and meaning. 

My release was a terrible thunderclap. Clinging on to thin air for my dear life, my whole body shuddered to the bittersweet of the eight-inch dildo. Feeling every inch tearing down the bare secrets of my womanhood, my body threatened to explode

My abdomen strained and scorched. I released a jet of juice and it ran in large rivulets, soaking my inner thighs. “Oh, God!” I exclaimed, my heart ricocheting around my chest.  

The bedroom door flung open at that moment. Beams of hallway illumination exposed my onanistic deed. Gazing at the silhouetted figure of the intruder, I opened and closed my mouth, lost for words. Except for the hum of the pink eight-inch dildo, the air was dead silent.



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