“God, put that thing away,” she said, as she flipped the sheets over his still rigid cock. He lay there, a tent poking toward the ceiling, while she caught her breath. After about six bouts of flailing arms and legs, and howling into the walls and pillows, she’d had enough. Or, so he thought.
He looped his left arm around her shoulders and hauled her in, cradling her head against his chest. He stroked her hair and kissed her perspiring forehead, listening to the gradual slowing of her breathing. Her left leg draped across him and he could feel her belly against his side, expanding, contracting, easing, relaxing. “I’ll go make some coffee,” he said softly, and eased away from her to walk down the hallway and into the kitchen.
No sooner had he left her side than she reached to the light stand, next to the bed and grabbed the vibrator and dildo. Beneath the cocoon-warm comforter, she shoved the dildo deep into her still-pulsing hole and pumped to the rhythm of his last performance. With the vibrator on her almond-sized clit, she brought herself to yet another orgasm before he could return. Sheepishly, she smiled as he entered the room. He knew what she had been up to, gauging by the flurry of activity under the blankets as she tried to hide the toys. He smiled and settled in beside her, kissing her neck and fondling her greedy nipples.
“Are you a horny girl,” he asked, in a taunting tone. She nodded her head and spread her legs as his hand ran down to sample the juiciness of her crotch. “Hmmmm…..let’s see,” he teased, as his fingers unleashed a barrage of flicks and rubs and runs across her labia and clit. Immediately, her breath was drawn away and her head spun, as the spasms started to build inside of her thighs. As the tension approached the snapping point, he stopped. “Wait! I have an idea!” And he scurried into the bathroom, leaving her buzzing.
When he returned, grinning wickedly, one hand was behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he ordered. “And spread those legs,” he ordered again. She did as she was told. It didn’t take long for her to realize that the sensuously curved object that he slid into her was the handle of her hairbrush. After that, it was the carrot, then the handle to the screwdriver, then the cool bratwurst, then the summer sausage, then the hammer grip. Every new tool, a new sensation. She lurched and bucked in orgasm, over and over, until he ran out of ideas. Then, she had ideas of her own and she started roaming the house, looking for things to insert into her seeping crotch.
He reclined in bed and watched, as fruit and vegetables and tools and utensils competed to finish the job that he, obviously, could not finish. It was, he determined, humanly impossible to satisfy this woman. Finally, after what seemed like hours and dozens of orgasmic feats, he pinned her to the bed. “Stay,” he ordered. “I have one more thing for you.” He left the room and returned a few moments later, with another wicked grin on his face and a hand behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he ordered. She did as he was told. He sat on her chest, his hot balls resting between her breasts.
“When I was a kid,” he started, “we had a kitten that just couldn’t keep out of trouble. The little bastard would claw all of the furniture and rip electric cords out of sockets and tear bags of rice open and, generally, make a big mess. My mom decided to knit some kitten mittens and tie them onto the little kitten’s feet, so it wouldn’t hurt itself and everything else.”
He reached out and placed a thick leather mitten over each of her hands.
“There, now you have your kitten mittens,” he said. Then, he slid his still rigid cock down the length of her belly and impaled her pussy.