The Strip Club

It was late 1999, and I had just gotten divorced from my first wife. I was bored, so I took in one of the local strip clubs, hoping for a little entertainment on that ice cold night. It was an odd sensation, sitting there, watching the woman gyrating her hips on the stage. Why was it odd? After all, it wasn’t like I had never been to a strip club before.

In fact, I can remember going to clubs in Italy, where there was much more involved than just dancing. Places where the woman would put her foot on your knee, bring her pussy inches from your face, and let you watch while she used a toy on herself.

So, as for odd sensations, why was this time any different? That was easy. This time, I knew the woman on the stage personally. In fact, I knew her husband too. He was someone that I was stationed with, and was actually in my same squadron. That is what made the whole scenario odd. I knew that I could never look at his wife the same way again, not after tonight.

She had always been easy on the eyes, not a knock-out, but pretty just the same. One thing I always liked about her was that she was comfortable in her own skin. She was a little on the heavier side, thick, with large breasts and a big, round ass. But, she was comfortable with herself, and that is what mattered.

My eyes were riveted on her as she swayed across the stage. I’ll be the first to admit, I had often wondered what she looked like under those sweatshirts she always wore. In a flash, the bra that was barely containing her easily 38 or 40 DD breasts, was gone. I never had to wonder again after that, because I had an eye full.

She had me mesmerized, watching them sway back and forth as she danced on the stage. I was transfixed on her large areolas, and thick, erect nipples. So much so, that I almost failed to notice when she removed her thong…almost.

My eyes were drawn to her clean shaven mound, and when she got on her knees… I was done for. There she was, on all fours, giving myself and the other men in the room a view of her puffy lips, framed by her big ass. I knew then that I definitely wouldn’t be able to look at her the same way ever again.

After she had finished dancing, she made a bee line to the back room. A short while later, she reappeared wearing her thong and skimpy bra, and headed straight to my table.

“Hey,” she said, sitting down next to me.

“Hey, yourself,” I replied and laughed little.

“What brings you here?”

“Boredom, and an empty house,” I replied. “I’d ask you the same question, but, the answer is obvious.”

“Yeah, well…” she began. “I thought I would give it try. It was something I always wanted to do, but didn’t have the nerve to do it. Then, I needed to make some fast money and thought why not.”

“What does your husband think of it?” I asked her, knowing how much of an ass he was at work.

“He doesn’t like it,” she admitted. “But, he is away on temporary deployment. So, it wasn’t like he could stop me. Listen, I need you to do me a favor. There are a lot of creeps in here tonight, this was fun and all… but, I don’t see myself doing it again.”

“Sure,” I shrugged my shoulders. “What do you need?”

“Buy me a drink and a lap dance. That will take me to the end of my shift.”

Although, I probably would have bought a lap dance from her without her asking anyway, I certainly couldn’t turn down her request. So, I ponied up the money for a drink and a lap dance. We sat there drinking the drinks, making small talk, and then she pulled me into the private booth.

I assumed that she would just continue talking to me when we got in there. Knowing that she knew me personally, and was using this to keep from dancing with someone else. But, I was wrong, she gave me my money’s worth and it was worth every red cent too.

She gave me what was probably one of the best lap dances I had ever had, rubbing those glorious mounds over my face and grazing my lips with those hard nipples. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for me to get uncomfortable. By uncomfortable, I meant that I seriously needed to adjust myself, after all of her rubbing and grinding.

I was going to do just that too, adjust myself that is. But, she did it for me. I was shocked when she reached down into my pants and grabbed me with her bare hand.

“I’m not supposed to do this,” she admitted, wrapping her cool fingers around me. “But, you looked so uncomfortable, I thought I should lend you a hand.”

She straightened me up, gave me a few strokes for good measure, and then ran her thumb across the tip slowly. The sensation was unbelievable, having her hold me that way, looking into my eyes and rubbing my crown in slow, circular motions.

“Damn, you feel good,” she sighed. “Sometimes it sucks being married. You know?”

“Yep,” I replied. I probably could have said more, but, I was otherwise distracted at the time.

“Fuck,” she muttered, releasing my manhood and removing her hand from my pants.

She went back to her lap dance, but, it was different. After removing her hand from my pants, she set to grinding herself against me with a purpose. By the time she was done, she had me at the brink of cumming several times. At some point, she even placed her bare pussy lips mere inches from my face. I could smell her arousal permeating the room. It took all I had not to cross that line further and bury my face between her legs for a taste.

“Fuck…let me see it,” she said, after getting dressed.

“What?” I asked.

“Let me see it. I want to see what I am missing out on.”

I did as she asked, unzipping my pants and letting them fall to my knees. I think a part of me was still hopeful that she would change her mind, but, I wasn’t going to press it. So, I just stood there, bared and fully erect.

“Fuck,” she said, for the third time that night and then asked me to get dressed.

I saw her again several times after that, but, neither of us brought up that night at the club. Her husband had no idea that I had been there, and that is probably for the best. But, our relationship was never the same afterwards and there was a crackling of sexual tension whenever we were by ourselves. I still believe that if I had pursued her that night, she and I would have sealed the deal. But, I don’t have any regrets about the decision I made. At least I wasn’t at home, bored and in an empty house.

©AC Elliott (written in 2015)


The Psych Project (Short Fiction)

The first thing Sally noticed as she looked over syllabus for her psychology class was that a group project was to be completed. She absolutely hated group projects! What made this one even worse was the fact that it counted towards 25% of her grade. No matter how she felt about the project, there was no way she could afford not to go along with it.

Sally groaned inwardly when the professor began pulling names at random from a hat to assign partners. With her luck, she would end up with some boring, nerdy type. From the looks of things, when he drew her partner Michael, that is exactly what had happened. Glancing over at her new “partner”, he looked to be every bit of the type she was hoping NOT to be paired with. This was definitely not going to be an enjoyable class, or class project!

After the names had been drawn, the partners were able to spend a little time discussing their upcoming project. Sally watched as Michael pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose when he introduced himself to her. He seemed nice enough, so at least the project would be palatable at best. Clearing off a spot at the table, she motioned for him to have a seat, and the discussion began.

As they sat and discussed the various topics they could pursue for their joint project, she quickly became enamored with him. Despite his initial outward appearance, there was something that drew her to him. She didn’t know if it was his deep, soothing voice or the fact that he seemed so in control. Whatever it was, Sally found herself quickly agreeing to a joint project on submission. More importantly, how an independent, strong willed person could end up in a subordinate roll sexually.

That was how it began, and over the next 16 weeks they worked closely together studying the topic of dominance and submission. Over the course of time, he began asking her in his deep soothing voice to do things for him. When she did them right he was pleased, and when she did them wrong he was disappointed. He never used an unkind word, didn’t get angry in any way, but still the disappointment was obvious.

Before long, the soft requests slowly began turning into soft demands upon her. Sally found herself wanting nothing more than to please him. She wanted to make him happy and it was his approval that she desired above all else. It was amazing how much had changed over the last 16 weeks, and exactly what she was willing to do for him.

As Sally lay back on the window ledge, pulling her panties off in a public place, realization struck… she was the subject of their joint project…

©AC Elliott, 2015

The Patient Man (Part 2)

Paul couldn’t help but admire the view as he approached her. The way she was spread open for him was so inviting, and in many ways, quite distracting. It would be easy to just relent, and admit defeat, just to be inside of her. But, he could be just as stubborn as she was intent on being, besides…it wasn’t a part of the plan.

Stay focused, he thought to himself, this is going to be a long, fun night.

As he stepped up to her, he ran his fingers lightly over her exposed ass cheeks. He smiled, tracing the red welts gently with his fingertips, and watched the fire get brighter in her eyes. Their time had started much earlier in the evening, even before they had entered the room at all. In fact, her being in the swing was the second part of the night.

While they were becoming more comfortable being in each other’s presence, up until that evening, there had been no impact play at all. Not that he hadn’t wanted there to be any, they just took their time building up to that moment. Their days had been spent getting to know one another, and take in the local sights, while their nights had been spent getting to know one another on a more intimate level.

Then, what had started as heavy petting during an early evening quickie, escalated to another level entirely when he had smacked her bare ass playfully. That one smack had flipped a switch in them both, igniting their desire for much more. He could still see the look in her eyes after that first smack, and how she arched her back, raising her backside up for more.

He had been more than willing to oblige too, bringing his hand down on the other cheek tentatively testing the water. The look she threw him had said volumes, more than anything she could have said verbally. More, harder, the fiery look read as she wiggled her ass seductively, and that was all he needed to know.

Soon after, Paul was beating a steady tattoo on her round cheeks, watching them turn red as her yelps of pain turned to moans of pleasure. He loved the feel of her flesh beneath the palm of his hand, and the resulting sting from each hard smack. The smell of her arousal permeated the room as moisture began forming on her folds.

Pausing, he slipped his long fingers between her folds, and sheathed them in her velvet embrace with a single thrust. The urge to take her right then had been overwhelming to say the least, especially when he felt her clasp hard around his fingers. However, she must have seen the glint in his eyes when she looked over her shoulder at him.

“The room,” was all she said, and they both knew what that meant.

Now, here she was, bound and spread on the swing she had lovingly caressed just a couple days prior when she was shown the room for the first time. They had discussed this room many times over the past several months as he was getting it setup. Their safe word was long established. It was to be their escape, where reality was put on hold and left at the door, even if only for the time they were immersed in one another.

“Are you ready?” Paul asked her, running his fingers along her inner thigh.

(To be continued)

© AC Elliott, 14-Aug-18

The Patient Man (Part 1)

Paul had been waiting for this moment for quite some time. The moment that seemed to never come, when he would be able to spend some quality time with her. They had talked about it for months on end, even planned it several times, but nothing ever came to fruition. Life kept getting in the way, and the miles between them seemed to stretch into an eternity.

Now, there they were, in the spare room of his old farmhouse. One that he had specially designed for an occasion such as this. It had been sitting empty, waiting for her to arrive. He had everything meticulously in place, ready and waiting.

Truth be told, they hadn’t immediately rushed into the room when she first arrived. Although that would have been interesting and fun, they didn’t make use of the room until the third day of her stay with him. The first couple of days were spent enjoying each other’s company and building up to this moment. After all, there was no reason to rush things.

“There’s a time for everything,” he said to himself, viewing her from across the room.

There she was, sitting in the swing, with her legs spread wide, bared and open to his viewing. He had tied her hands behind her back, leaving her swinging in the middle of the room while he opened a chest kept at the end of the bed. From within the chest, he began pulling a variety of implements and toys, until he found the ones he was looking for.

Satisfied, he crossed back over to where she was bound. There was a defiant look in her eyes, and he liked that. She had said that she wouldn’t beg, and he knew that she meant it. Yet, he wondered, who would break first? Would she relent and beg, or would he give in to his own base desires? Only time would tell, and he was a patient man.

© AC Elliott, 13-Aug-18


It has almost been a year since I started this blog up. At the time, I felt this was going to be the final iteration and persona in my career of blogging. I still do. I was tired of changing things and jumping around. Yet, here I am, sitting in my office, looking at the blank screen before me, and find that I still struggle with my words. It’s almost like I lost something back between November of 2016 and July of 2017. Something that, up until recently, I haven’t been able to recapture. But, I feel that changing. I can feel a change in the air and a welcoming one at that. That being said, I am just going to let it go, write out a stream of consciousness and see what I get in the end…

As most of you are aware, I have been away for the last few weeks. First I was on vacation in sunny Florida, and then I was camping for the past week. The good (and bad) thing about camping in the wilderness…I was pretty much completely unplugged, since signal was absolutely horrible at the time. The bad part is that I couldn’t stay in touch with people, read many posts, or write much. The good thing is that it gave me time to think about things…life in general, and more specifically, my writing.

What I have come to realize is that I am not satisfied with my writing as a whole. Those of you that know me well…you are already well aware of the fact that I have struggled with those feelings for quite some time. So, this is nothing new. I still have a lot of the same feelings that I had when I started this blog back up last July. See “I Don’t Know” and “Thoughts on Writing” for more information.

In short, I just don’t feel like I’m being true to myself. Sometimes I feel as if I am going through the motions, writing just to write, and while I am obviously inspired… in many case, I long for more. The problem is, I can never pinpoint what direction I want to take things in. My first love has always been prose, and up until 2014 that was all I wrote. I wrote stories and/or my thoughts on things. Then, I got back into writing poetry after a 16-year hiatus from it.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I really do love writing poetry. There was a time that I felt I could spin a whole story with just a few verses of poetry. But, now… I feel as if I tend to use it more as a crutch lately than anything else. The reasons I say that I use it as a crutch are quite simple… poetry is quicker to write, it is more concise and well…it is easier (for me) to write.

All of that said, I am looking to make some changes on this blog, adding more stories and perhaps expanding upon thoughts over different topics. Don’t fret, I will still be writing poetry. After all, I love the freedom it gives me, as well as challenge of expressing myself in limited poetic forms. But, I need to get back to the basics too, I have stories that need endings and new stories waiting to come out. Both erotic and non-erotic. At the same time, I also have thoughts that need to get out and they can only be expressed in some sort of prose format.

It has been a year on this blog…so, it is time to clean house and make some changes…it’s time to evolve.

© AC Elliott, 10-Jul-18

A Sticky Situation (Part 11) (Mature 18+)

Spreading her cheeks, I watched as the lubricant rolled over her rosebud of an anus. Slowly, I began massaging the liquid around her asshole, and then gingerly I pressed my index finger into her tight hole. She moaned as my finger slid into the first knuckle. Pulling it back slowly, I applied more lube and began working it around her sphincter.

I slowly stretched her asshole, starting with my index finger and then adding another finger as she relaxed and became accustomed to the invasion. Throughout the entire time, she alternated between moaning in pleasure and begging me to stop. She tried to wiggle away from me once, but a quick smack on her already sore ass brought her back in line quickly.

When I felt she was ready, I stepped behind her, holding the butt plug between my fingers. I eyed her asshole, and then looked at the butt plug. Having another idea, I dropped the butt plug to the floor and squirted lube into my hand. Wrapping my hand around my hard cock, I massaged the oil into my skin, making me slick and ready. Once I was ready, I flipped her over onto her back roughly so that she was laying on top of her bound hands.

“Oh, no, Todd… please, no,” she said as her eyes growing large as saucers when they beheld my shiny, slick cock.

Shoving her a little further onto the bed, I spread her legs and stepped between them. Pinning her legs with my shoulders, I guided my cockhead to her slick asshole and pressed it against her. She was mewling like a cat in heat as I firmly pressed my cockhead against her asshole, and slowly began pushing into her.

“Look at me,” I growled when she tried to look away.

Her head snapped back, locking eyes with mine. I wanted to see her eyes as I continued to push into her rectum. Before it was all said and done, I wanted her to realize exactly who was in charge in this house, and it certainly wasn’t her.

Chelsea’s mouth opened wide as the crown of my cockhead slipped past her sphincter ring. I felt her muscles snap around my shaft and grip me as tight as a vise. Pausing, I let her get accustomed my thick cock being in her rear passage. When I thought she was ready, I began pushing slowly into her, taking my time and pausing as needed in order for her to be ready for more.

Throughout the entire time, she kept her eyes locked on mine. Keeping her legs pinned by with my shoulders, I reached down and grabbed her nipples between the fingers of each hand. Pinching them between my digits, I twisted and pulled on them. Enflamed by the look of pure lust that entered her eyes, I pushed all the way into her, filling her young ass with my hard cock.

“Oh my g-g-g-awd,” she moaned, licking her lips as I continued to assault her nipples with my fingers.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Chelsea,” I told her calmly, hearing a satisfying assent of a moan slip from her mouth.

I began slowly at first, pulling back until I could feel the crown being held by her asshole. When I was almost all the way out, I began pushing back inside of her slowly, pulling on her nipples as I slid deep into rear end. Continuing this way for several strokes, I savored the slow feel of her tight asshole as my cock slid in and out of her.

Satisfied that she used to my thick rod being in her rear passage, I began increasing the pace of my strokes. I ramped it up slowly, enjoying the feeling of bottoming out in her rear end repeatedly. Her moans grew louder and longer with each hard thrust, it was like her moans were urging me to take her harder and faster. I did so with no problem what-so-ever, continuing to thrust into her until I was a blur of movement.

Releasing her nipples, I grabbed her legs and spread them as wide as I could possibly get them. Looking down, I watched as my hard cock slid effortlessly into her asshole repeatedly. Her body bounced with each hard thrust, her breasts waving in small circles as I assaulted her rear end. The closer I got to my pending orgasm, the harder I thrust into, until the sounds emanating from her turned from moans to screams of pleasure.

“Who’s in control?” I growled at her.

“Oh, fuck, you are…” she moaned.

“Who is going to be a good girl?” I asked her breathlessly as I bottomed out in her ass.

“I am, fuck, I will do whatever you say… just don’t stop…” she pleaded.

Releasing her right leg, I reached between us and began rubbing her clit hard. I listened to her screams as they continued to get louder, signaling her impending orgasm. Thrusting deep into her as hard as I could, I held myself there just as she began thrashing her head, her young body wracked with orgasmic bliss. As her asshole tightened around my thick shaft, I exploded, filling her rear end with spurts of my hot seed.

“Oooooh,” she cried out as I dumped load after load into her tight ass.

As my orgasm subsided, I pulled out of her rear end with a satisfying “pop”. Collapsing on the vacant chair, I watched as my young trussed up lover lay panting on the bed. After resting for a few seconds, I stood up, flipped her over onto her stomach and undid the ropes binding her hands.

“Get out of here,” I ordered. “Don’t you ever, ever, think of doing what you did to me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she moaned, her eyes blinking back tears as she slowly made her way to the door.

“Oh, and Chelsea,” I said.


“I expect you to be in my room every morning for the next week. When you come in, I want you to drop your drawers and bend over my knees. Then I will spank you, and if you are a good girl, I might even let you cum. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she mewled, tears running down her cheeks as she left my room.

“Now,” I said aloud to myself. “What to do about the other ladies in the house…”
(To be continued)

A Sticky Situation (Part 10) (Mature 18+)

“Get off,” I mumbled into the pussy that was still firmly against my mouth.

Somehow I managed to maintain a solid grip on her hair with my right hand as she scooted her cute ass off of my face. Struggling slightly, I managed to sit up, yanking her to the foot of the bed. Holding her there, I demanded that she undo the bindings on my feet. Reluctantly, and partly because I was dragging her, she climbed onto the lower portion of the bed and undid the bindings holding my feet.

The first thing I did with my free hand was dislodge the damned butt plug from my rectum. All of the moving was making me more than a little uncomfortable and it just had to go. Grasping it with my fingers, I pushed slightly with my anal muscles and popped it right out. It felt good sliding out of my sphincter, and I couldn’t help but moan slightly when it slipped past my sphincter ring.

The next thing to go was the cock ring. Not that I minded it, but I was ready to cum and it was preventing me from doing so. Pulling Chelsea by the hair, I drug her to the side of the bed, and forced her head down until she was eye level with my throbbing cock. Wrapping my left hand around my shaft, I began pumping myself furiously, keeping my cockhead firmly pressed against the side of her face.

“Open wide, Chelsea,” I growled. “Or else I am just going to cum all over your pretty little face.”

She did as commanded, opening her mouth wide and accepting my cock between her lips. No sooner had my cockhead slipped into her mouth, than I began to cum. It felt so good to unload my heavy balls into her mouth as she struggled to swallow the seemingly never ending stream of cum. Yet somehow she managed to swallow every bit of it.

When I was finished unloading myself into her throat, I pulled my still hard cock out of her mouth and slapped it against her face. Holding her hair tightly with my fingers, I slapped her face with cock several more times. Tiring of that game, I pulled her off the bed and onto her feet. I was angry, and even more so, I was tired of the games she and the other women of her family were playing with me.

“Lean over the bed,” I ordered her, as she lay face first on the bed, “and put your hands behind your back.”

When her hands were at the small of her back, I grabbed her wrists roughly with my left hand. Holding her tightly in place, I finally released my hold on her hair. Grabbing up the rope that had previously bound my feet, I tied her hands tightly behind her back. The knots were so interwoven and tight, there was no way she was going to break free. Unlike her daddy, I really did know how to tie a knot.

“Now,” I stated matter-of-factly, “this is more like it.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Chelsea began to sob.

“Hmmm… what was it you said a little while ago?” I asked sarcastically. “Oh, yes. I remember now. ‘You and I are going to have soooo much fun today.’ Well, at least I am…”

I left her lying on the bed, face down, with her hands tied behind her back and went to search in my dresser drawer. Smiling, I pulled out my old hairbrush. It was just what I needed. With the long wood handle, and wood backing, it made the perfect paddle. Now, it was time to punish her for her little games.

“Oh, Chelsea, Chelsea, Chelsea,” I said soothingly, as her eyes grew large as saucers when she saw the makeshift paddle. “You know what your problem is?”

“What?” she sobbed, as I stepped closer to her caressing the wooden brush.

“You are spoiled,” I replied. “You have never, ever, been properly disciplined.”

“Ohhh, god,” she began to cry, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, little girl,” I soothed, patting her plump rump with my hand. “I will take care of that little problem you have. When I am done, you will be begging for me to let you be my good little girl.”

Helping her to a standing position, I half walked, half drug her to the chair she was previously sitting in. I sat down in the chair, and patted my knees expectantly. I am not sure if she was confused, or trying to be flippant, but instead of lying over my knees she tried to sit on them. As she cuddled up to my neck, batting her once more innocent looking eyes, I once more grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back.

“Bend your pretty ass over my knees, now,” I growled. “Or, it will only be worse for you.”

She yelped as I released her hair, jumping up and quickly coming to stand next to my legs. I helped her bend her upper body over my knee, her abdomen draped over me. I could feel her soft breasts on the side of my leg, and my semi-erect cock was pressed firmly against her side.

I’ll admit, it was a bit awkward at first, but I was determined to make it work. Pulling her tied hand up slightly, to get them out of the way, I surveyed her plump ass. It looked so inviting to me, just begging for me to begin spanking it. Placing the brush on the small of her back, I caressed her ass lightly with my bare hand, feeling her firmness and exploring her soft mound of flesh.

When she was least expecting it, I pulled my hand back and brought it down hard on her exposed cheek hard. Once again she yelped, but this time in pain, as I drew my hand back and smacked her again on the other cheek. I continued on this way for several minutes, smacking her ass with my bare hand and then caressing it. At some point tears actually began flowing from her eyes, as she begged me to please stop.

When my own hand began to sting, I stopped. Her ass had red welts, and raised areas in the shape of my large hand. Throughout the entire time I hadn’t spoken a single word to her. My only focus was on spanking her ass, and feeling myself becoming more turned on by it with each smack on her ass. Her soft side felt so good against my erect, pulsating cock. But, I wasn’t ready to fuck her just yet.

“Tell me,” I said to her, once more caressing her ass. “Tell me, that you have been bad and deserve this.”

“I have been bad,” she sobbed.

“And…” I pressed.

“…and nothing,” she cried out defiantly.

I picked up the brush from the small of her back, hefted it in my hand, getting a good feel for the makeshift paddle. Rubbing it against her exposed cheeks, I gave her one more chance to admit that she deserved the spanking she was receiving. When it didn’t come, I pulled my hand back and brought the paddle down hard against her ass.

The paddle made a soft “whirr” as it flew through the air, followed by a solid “thwack” as the wood struck her ass. I watched as her cheek bounced from the impact, and listened as she cried out in pain. Then I pulled it back and whacked the other cheek just as hard. If I thought she was crying before, she was now crying hysterically, trying to pull away from my legs.

Grabbing her roughly with my left hand, I yanked her back, hard against me. Now she was really fighting it, but I wasn’t going to give her an inch of wiggle room to escape. Still trying to keep her hands out of the way, I brought the paddle down on her ass several times in succession, alternating between both cheeks.

“Say it,” I growled, pausing briefly.

“I am a bad girl, and I deserve to be punished,” she cried out.

“Very good,” I replied soothingly, resting the paddle against her ass and rubbing it in small circles. “Now, tell me thank you for the punishment.”

“Th-th-thank you,” she managed to stutter out.

“Thank you, what?” I prodded, rubbing her ass a little harder with the paddle.

“Th-thank you for punishing me, sir, and I deserved it,” she replied, sucking the tears and snot back into her nose.

“Very good,” I replied again. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Was it?”

I helped her stand up, and then led her back to the bed. Pushing her forward, I had her once again lay face down on the bed. Grabbing up the lubricant, and butt plug, I eyed her red ass thoughtfully. Picking up a discarded t-shirt, I wiped the butt plug clean, and stepped up behind her.

“Now, how did this work again? Oh yeah, I remember now,” I said, as I squirted the lube between her asscheeks.

(To be continued)