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If you are under 18 or offended by sexually oriented material,
stop right here.  Do not read the rest of this message.

WARNING: Sexually Oriented Material Follows.  Adults only.
--------------------------------------------------------------


Convention Town Girl

Part 4  (MF, toys)

By Ms. Screwloose

Okay, okay, Tommy has been bugging me to tell you about the
"little adventures back in college" that I mentioned.  This
is really kinky.  It was back in my "If it moves, fondle
it" stage back in college.  Remember those days?  Well, it
was actually more like, "If it moves, fuck it."  He knows
only a little about some of those kinky times, so some of
this may come as a shock.  Sorry, baby. I mean, I was
really horny and loose back then, much more than the
suburban mom that you know now.  It was a different time
back then, and I was a different person.  However, I think
that the titillation will far outweigh the shock value.  If
this doesn't make you hard, I'm losing my touch.

Sometime in college, back in the late sixties (boy, am I
showing my age!), my then-boyfriend and I went to a foreign
movie at an "art house" theater in town.  I can't remember
the title of the movie, unfortunately.  (Somebody please
tell me if you can.  This movie contains one of the most
erotic scenes I've ever seen, and I would love to see it
again.  I'm sure my memory and lust over the years have
enhanced the film with details that weren't really there,
but what the hell.)  Some Italian flick, like "La Dolce
Vita" but five or ten years later.  At some party, a bored
girl does a dance on a piano.  You think it's going to be a
striptease, but it's not.  She's very conservatively
dressed in a nice blouse and straight skirt.  Short skirt,
that was the style then.  She sits down on the edge of
piano, removes her shoes then stockings from under her
skirt.  And then her panties.  But she carefully shows
nothing.  She gets up on the piano top and dances around
sort of lazily, slinking as much as dancing, all the while
pulling her skirt higher on her thighs.  You still don't
see anything of her goodies under the skirt, but you can
imagine like crazy.

A man with sunglasses brings a long-necked chianti bottle
to piano, places it in front of her.  (You know the kind of
bottle, a round bottom covered with wicker, and a long
neck, maybe two feet long.  You used to see them in stores
and bars -- and in college dorm rooms -- back then.  Very
dramatic to pour, but the wine was usually pretty sad.)  In
any case, she dances over to it, reaches out with her long
hand and fingernails and touches the top, dances around it,
pulls back from it, looks at it.  She dances up to it and
around it.  Her hands push her skirt up her thighs more so
that the hem is above the neck of the bottle.  Now she
dances up to it, right up to it, and the neck is under her
skirt.  She closes her eyes and dances hypnotically,
shoulders and hips just moving with the music.  The bottle
is now between her legs, and we know she is not wearing any
underwear, we watched her take them off.  Jesus, is she
going to do this?  I thought she was just going to dance
*around* the bottle and maybe fondle it suggestively.  Boy,
was I ever square.  The camera pulls back for a better
look.  Her knees bend and she gets lower, the neck of the
bottle disappears under the skirt.  She bends down a little
further, her hips down toward the bottle, she gasps a
little, she bites her lip for a minute and then bends even
a little lower.  The bottle is now inside her!  Ohmigod!
We see her sink down on it in little jerks, half a foot or
so, then up, then down again slowly.  Then she pumps it
regularly, clearly fucking herself with the object though
the crowd can't really tell, they can't really see.  The
onlookers applaud softly.  But soon they get bored even
with this exotic, erotic scene.  One by one they return to
the conversations they were involved in before.  The movie
continues with a discussion while she fades into the
background, still pumping away at her inert lover.

Absolutely the most erotic thing I had ever seen.  I nearly
slid off my seat in the theater when I saw this.  Holy
honey-pot, was I turned on.  I didn't care if her lover was
inert.  It was unbelievable to watch her take control, take
that thing into her body, into her most intimate pussy
space, and fuck it and fuck it.  Ignoring the crowd.  She
just wanted to fuck herself.  I melted.

My boyfriend was turned on, too.  (And fortunately we were
already intimate.  I can't imagine how embarrassing it
would have been to watch that scene with a casual date.)
When we went back to his room later, this image played a
part in our lovemaking.

We shared a bottle of wine to loosen up, which we often
did, by the light of a couple candles, romantic and sexy.
When he drained it, he made a show of licking off the neck
of the bottle and looking at it lasciviously.  "Would you
dance with the bottle, for me?" he asked.  I was kind of
expecting it.  I took the bottle and put it on the floor.
"Leave the skirt on," he said.  "It's much sexier that way
if I can't actually see it but have to imagine it going
inside."  He was right, that was part of what made it so
sexy.  (And permitted the movie to be shown in art theaters
in college towns rather than in porno theaters in slums.
But never mind that.)

I got up and found some suitable music on the radio.  I
started swaying to the music as I came back over to him.
He was sitting on the floor, back against the couch.  The
bottle was on the floor, too.  I danced up to him, put my
crotch under my (relatively short) skirt right up against
his nose for a moment, then backed away.  I reached up
under my skirt to grab the waist of my pantyhose and pulled
them down a little.  I realized I would have to sit down to
remove them, so I pulled out a chair and faced him, worked
the pantyhose down my thighs and calves as sexily as I
could, giving him whatever peeks under my skirt.  When they
were off, I threw them over to him.  He sniffed them, dirty
boy, and held them in a little ball.  So I reached up under
the skirt again and pulled my panties down, slowly, a bit
at a time, teasing and tempting.  When I threw them to him,
he sniffed them, too, deeper and longer.  I got up and
swayed slowly over to the area of the bottle.  Around it.
Then right over it.

It was just a normal wine bottle.  It was so short, it was
clear I would have to kneel over it rather than squat down
that low.  So I knelt just behind it, from his point of
view, and walked up to it on my knees.  I had to raise my
skirt many inches to get the hem over the neck of the
bottle, just like the girl in the film, but not quite up to
the goodies, so the audience couldn't see anything, just
imagine it.  Just imagine my sopping pussy hovering over
that bottle.  Hard, vertical, smaller than a cock, at least
this bottleneck was.  But quite enough to penetrate me.  I
moved forward a little more and started to sit down on it.
Not quite in the right place.  I moved forward a little
more, then down some more.  Right there, that's the spot.
Holy shit, it's nudging its way between my lips, right up
to my little hole.

I look over at my boyfriend.  His mouth is open, his eyes
are staring wide, he's almost drooling.  He looks up at me
with lust I have never seen before, and with love, too, and
with pleading that I continue this act.  I gently, slowly,
relax my legs and, sure enough, the bottle pushes its way
past the entrance of my vagina, pushing open the muscles
and inside.  It's a little cold, cooler than any cocks or
even fingers have ever been.  I haven't felt this kind of
cold, hard intruder since I was a teenager experimenting
with my hairbrush, my favorite shampoo bottle, my candles.
I relax more, down further onto it, until the shoulder of
the bottle is too large to go inside.  I have the whole
neck up me.  Up my cunt.  I might as well say that, because
that's what it was at the time.  A hot, hungry, drooling
cunt that wanted something hard to fill it.  How depraved,
and how sexy, and how thrilling it felt.

I pulled up a little, and I was wet enough that the bottle
slid out.  So I could pump up and down on it without having
to hold on.  Just like the movie.  So I started fucking the
bottle, up and down, in and out, I was in complete control
of how far it penetrated into my cunt.  With guys, they are
always pumping, too, trying to get farther in.  It's hard
to keep a rhythm with two people wanting to move at
different speeds.  But the bottle was just my slave.  I
push down, he goes in.  I pull up, he comes out.  Slippery,
slippery.  I need to touch my clit so I can come.  I reach
one hand under my skirt and find my button, which is on
fire.  I can feel the hard neck of the bottle right behind
it, going in and out slowly.  I'm fucking myself with the
bottle and with my fingers!  I'm so hot, I don't have to
rub long before I climax.  Shuddering.  I almost lose my
balance.  He holds onto me as I come down.  He wants to
feel the bottle inside me.  I take his hand and pull it
under my skirt up to my pussy and I sit down hard on the
bottle to take as much of it as I can.  He feels around and
plays with my clit and I move up and down until I come
again.  I raise up until the bottle leaves.  I don't want
it to go, but I have to lie down.

He held me until my breathing and nerves relaxed.  Later,
we made love so he could get off, too.  The feeling of a
cock, hard and hot and gorged with blood, is different and
more intimate, for sure.  Still one of the sexiest nights I
can remember.

(You kids who don't think this was very radical, remember
that this was way, way back then, long before the vibrator
became standard equipment in every girl's and boy's
nightstand.)

That one night wasn't the end of it, of course.  "Dancing
with the bottle" -- really, me fucking myself with it --
became a special part of our lovemaking.  Once a week,
maybe.  Then one day, sitting in the corner of his room,
was a bottle of chianti.  A very tall bottle of chianti.
Ohboy, I can guess what this is for.  I wondered if it
would actually work.  So I walked over to it just to check
the, uh, height.  It was just about right, even when I had
flat shoes on, several inches below the, uh, goodies.

Sure enough, he asked me later, after dinner and wine, if I
had noticed the new addition to the décor?  Yes, I had.
Did I think I might want to try it out?  Well, maybe.  He
carried it from the corner to the middle of the room.  I
noticed then how rough the top was, foil and wax and such,
and I commented that this would have to be smoother.  (I
also noticed then how large it was in diameter, bigger than
I had expected, and certainly as big as anything I had ever
used before.)  We decided that, for tonight's performance,
we would put a condom over it.  (Yes, we did have condoms
way back then, though we didn't use them very often.)  I
put on a slinky slip and a dress.  He lit the candles and
opened another bottle of wine.

I danced as slinkily as I could in the dress, and, over a
few minutes, managed to unbutton most of it and then drop
the dress.  All I had left was a lacy, short, blue slip.
And matching bikinis.  While dancing around the bottle, I
managed subtly to get the panties down to the hem of the
slip, and then I suddenly pushed them to the floor and
kicked them over to him.  I danced up to the bottle,
letting the neck of it push on the slip so the material
outlined my crotch for him to see.  See where that's going
to go?  Yes, right in there.  With the condom on it, it
even looks sort of like a cock.  I backed away from it,
picked up the K-Y and squeezed a little onto it.  I made
quite a show of spreading the jelly down onto it as I would
onto a real erection.  He was gaping with lust.

When I finished my wine, I started seriously dancing up to
the bottle.  Bunching the slip at my waist until the hem
rose above the top of the bottle.  I stepped over it and
let the slip slide down a little to cover the top.  My eyes
were closed then, and I didn't see anything.  I just wanted
to feel my way around.  I bent my knees and moved around to
explore the area.  I bobbed down and up a few times to
center myself over the giant cock, then let my hips settle
down onto it until it pushed my lips apart and my hole
rested right on it.  Jesus, did it feel large.  And hard.
I relaxed another inch to push down.  My pussy was wet, but
not open enough to accommodate this large intruder.  I
relaxed a moment and moved down again.  The ring of muscles
of my vaginal hole popped open and it came in.  God, it was
huge, and hard, and a little cold.  But mainly huge.  Now I
settled down more and more to embed it firmly, little ups
and bigger downs to get more and more inside.

I had to arch my back and move my hips back to angle my
pussy straight down over the shaft of it.  Then I could
push down as far as I wanted.  After a dozen or two
strokes, it was in me right to the back of my vagina.  I
couldn't push down anymore.  So this is what the girl felt
in the movie.  Or acted, if she didn't actually do it.  She
got it right.  Her face full of ecstasy.  I'm sure mine
was, too, ecstasy and a little pain.  But don't they always
go together?  I pumped up and down, down and up, down, down
and up, to feel it hard and grinding in me.  Oh, oh, how
wonderful.  And I can control every inch of its movement,
deeper or shallower, hard and fast or slowly just sliding.
I sort of came just pumping it.  I wasn't paying any
attention to my clit particularly, but then I thought that
it would be dangerous to come as hard as I usually do, I
wouldn't want to lose my balance for a second standing over
this post.

I opened my eyes and looked at my boyfriend.  He was in
ecstasy, too.  He was staring at me, flaming lust in his
eyes, his pants and shorts gone and his cock -- only
normal-sized compared to this monster I have in me -- hard
as a rock.  I looked down to see what he was seeing.  My
legs well apart, my knees bent, and this giant post
sticking straight up between them, buried in my cunt.  I
moved up and down again just to see what it looked like,
knees bending more, hips moving down to take inches more of
the giant cock.  Obscene as hell.  I looked right in his
eyes and pulled up until the bottle left me with a little
sucking pop sound.

I went over to him, pushed him down on his back, and
climbed on.  He was smaller but hotter.  More active, more
urgent.  He held me tight to his chest and we moved slowly
until he screamed and squirted.  I lay on top of him until
he shrank and fell out and his juices dribbled back onto
him.  We slept a while like that, then got up and went to
bed for the night.

(A damned shame all this happened long before home video.
I would love to see myself do that.  But I'd die if it got
out, so it's just as well.)

That still wasn't quite the end of it.  I did the big
bottle a few more times.  Not so intense as the first time,
a little more mechanical, but I learned to balance and come
on it, and that was incredible.

Then one night we were, well, in the parlance of the times,
"smoking cigarettes with no name on them."  Wine with
dinner, and we opened another bottle after, and a couple
joints, and I was thoroughly wrecked.  And horny as hell.
And then some friends stopped over with more alcohol and
more alternate intoxicants.  Two guys, frat brothers of my
guy, and one's girlfriend.  I knew them all fairly well.
We socialized a lot.

We all got wrecked some more and, when we were dancing, I
was sandwiched by my boyfriend and the spare guy.  And
everybody was kissing everybody, and hands were taking
liberties, and I had been hot and bothered an hour ago
before the others arrived.  At one point, I was between my
boyfriend, his hands on my thighs *under* my skirt for all
to see, and the other guy clamped behind me with his hands
firmly on both my boobs.  And my guy whispered to me,
Wouldn't I like to do my special dance for him.  And he
started to pull my panties down.  And we swayed there, four
male hands kneading me all over in sensitive areas.  I was
melting.  And he kept whispering dirty things to me and
nibbling on my ear.  And the other guy must have heard and
he started asking me to dance, too.  And I guess I sort of
moaned a yes while one of them was kissing me and the other
was cupping my crotch and slipping his fingers into my
wetness.

They lowered my panties and took them off, showing the
other couple.  Somebody got the giant bottle out to the
middle of the room.  They stood around me, voices
encouraging me to dance, dance, dance, but I knew what that
meant.  It meant fuck.  I was ready to do that, too.  God,
that was so perverted and so private, I can't believe I did
it.  I fucked some *thing* in front of a bunch of people.
But at the time, I wanted to.

As I got close to it, I closed my eyes and did everything
by feel.  I had to take some of my sexy pussy slime and
smear it onto the neck of the bottle, and that caused a few
gasps.   Eventually, I got down on it, and pushed it
inside, and started pumping away.  When I opened my eyes,
all the guys had their cocks out, and the girl was playing
with two of them.  Her boyfriend pulled her skirt up and
her panties down, bent her forward toward me, and got into
her from behind.  The other two guys tried to put her hands
on their cocks, but she needed them for balance, so they
had to play with themselves.  I was off in my little world,
fucking that pipe up into my hot box, just fucking and
pumping.  Both guys quickly came, all over me.  And the
couple screamed and finished.  I rubbed my clit until I
came, louder than all of them.  And I stood up, and we all
embraced, and we flowed down to the floor in a heap, hands
and cocks and tits and lips everywhere.  When I woke up
later, we were all lined up like five cuddling cigars, boy-
girl-boy-girl-boy.  There were sort of embarrassed good
nights mumbled and everyone went home.

I don't know what the others thought of that night or of
me.  If I picked up a reputation as the campus kink-slut, I
never heard about it.  We didn't really talk about it
later, he and I.  I didn't set foot in that frat house
again.  And we broke up when we graduated a couple months
later.  And I never mentioned it to a soul, until now, all
these years later.

So you can see why *I* was a little shocked when Stan
wanted me to take that bottle in the car.  At first I
thought, Ohgod, my secret is out.  How does he know about
it?  Then I realized that it had nothing to do with me, it
was just what he wanted at the time.  And it seemed like a
good idea because I was so hot and juicy.  I must say, it
fit better than the previous bottles.  Its length and girth
are just at the limit that I can possibly take inside
without pain (or lots of practice, probably).  That huge,
hard, glass dildo, and the bumpy ride, and everyone playing
with my clit, I came and came and loved it.  Dirty girl.
Oooh.

Well, that's it.  Tommy, I hope you're not too shocked.
This was all long before we met, and we were different
people then.  And even recently, who pushed whom into sex
play and then sex with others?  This all started because
you wanted a big client to have his fun playing with *my*
T&A.

And, besides, don't you like secretly having a raging hot
babe in your bed?




Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.


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