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Huge pussy insertion sex stories

Huge pussy insertion sex stories

No re-use allowed without permission. I suppose the whole thing was my fault really. I normally get home at about 2. That gives me about 2 hours to myself before my son gets home from school. I call it my DT, or Dildo Time. Today was no exception.

The house was quiet; Robert, bless him, had washed up and put away the breakfast things. I hurried upstairs to my bedroom, where I carelessly stripped off my clothes. I reached under the bed and got out the holdall wherein I keep my toys. I had been feeling horny all day — not an unusual occurrence — and only the largest one would do.

It was black, veined and shaped in a life-like manner, but at least twice as large as any living cock had ever been. The head was as big as an orange and the shaft as thick as my upper arm. It was about fifteen inches long, but length is not so much of a factor with me. Width is what counts. Hurriedly I slathered it with lube and lay on the bed. I spread my thighs and placed the head of the dildo against my labia, feeling them swelling with excitement. I grabbed the base of the dildo with both hands, took a deep breath and pushed, hard.

It felt as though my insides were being invaded by some alien monster. The head slid right up into my cavity and pressed against my cervix. My pelvic floor muscles quivered around the shaft.

I shuffled my hips to the right angle, adjusted my grip on the base of the dildo and started to pump — slowly and gently at first, gradually increasing as the passion took me until I was plunging most of the length of the thing in and out of me with a driving rhythm.

Loud squishing noises were mixed with my own grunts and wails. The fat head of the thing was rubbing across my G-spot, faster and faster. I could feel the orgasm building, like a slow explosion.

With an agonised cry I climaxed, squeezing the hard shaft painfully. I felt a jet of hot fluid squirt out of my urethra, onto my hands. I tried a reasonably large dildo in the dark months after my husband walked out, and found the aching fullness comforted me strangely.

I got to using it every day, and gradually my body got used to it and started demanding something more, well, challenging. So I went online and bought a larger one, and found it good. That was 5 years ago. Now I can only get satisfaction from the very largest bruisers that I can find. When my vagina clamps down on the unyielding mass filling my tunnel, I experience such overwhelming pleasure that I know I could never do without it.

Rather like a drug addict, I suppose. When the orgasm had run its course I pulled the dildo out and lay there panting, feeling the cool air flowing into my wide-open vagina. I rubbed my hand over my soaking wet crotch, enjoying the feel of my swollen, slippery labia between my fingers. The first session had been so fast and intense that I had not even had time to build a good fantasy.

In any case, what could I fantasise about except being fucked by ever bigger dildos? Gradually my breathing and heart-rate slowed to normal. I was still horny, and my gaping hole demanded further attention. I rubbed the head of the dildo across my clit and down over my lips.

It wanted very much to get inside again, and I let it have its way. This time I took it slower, massaging my vaginal walls with the huge lump, stirring it around inside me, pulling the fattest bit through my tightest part again and again, building another massive climax in infinitesimal steps … It was bigger, longer and more draining than before.

I squirted again, hotly, almost painfully, and afterwards lay dozing while the juices ran out of me onto the sheets. First of all, though, I have a shower to wash away the grime of work, the sweat of my sexual exertions and the juices that cover my loins. I usually masturbate again in the shower to help my vagina close up.

By the time Robert comes in and gives me a kiss on the cheek I could pass for a respectable mother. If only he knew … Of course, school holidays are a problem. Fortunately Robert is often out with friends, playing football, even, occasionally, going out with girls, and then I can take advantage of his absence to console myself with an impromptu DT.

Recently two events happened on the same day — one good, one disturbing. The good thing was the arrival, by post, of a new dildo. I had pushed the boat out and ordered, from a US website, the largest device I could find — a blunt, cone-shaped mass of latex that flared out to a eye-popping diameter before ending in a sucker which could be attached to a tiled floor or wall.

Just looking at the picture had made my vagina tingle and start to leak. I collected it from the post office in town, a rectangular cardboard package which could have been anything. Walking through the busy high street carrying it gave me a thrill. What would people say if they could see inside? If they knew that my panties were soaked in anticipation? Once in the house, it was a toss-up whether I first ripped off my clothes or ripped open the package.

The object was revealed, swathed in tissue paper, heavy, black, shiny, huge. I could only just stretch my hands around its base. I wondered, belatedly, whether it would fit.

Well, only one way to find out. I peeled off my clothes and my sopping wet knickers in the bathroom, stuck the dildo to the floor, covered it in lube and knelt over it. I could feel my labia engorging and my tunnel dilating. A deep breath, and I had sat onto the tip of the thing. I realised I was making little crying sounds. I lifted off and looked at the dildo. The smearing of the lube showed that I had got about two-thirds of it inside me. I sat back onto it and bounced up and down a little, gently, getting my vagina used to the idea.

It did get used to it, rather quickly. I bounced harder, stretching myself a little more each time, panting like a weight-lifter, relishing the almost-pain. With a final lunge my buttocks touched the cool tiles. I realised proudly that I had taken the whole dildo inside me! My orifice felt as if it was going to split; my thighs were cramping and my head span. I leaned back — fortunately I was close to the wall — and slid my fingers across my juice-slick mound and onto my clitoris.

I shook and howled as the climax pumped through me, almost losing consciousness. When eventually it got too much I let myself fall sideways and the dildo popped out of me.

There was a puddle on the bathroom floor where I had squirted. My vagina felt as if it was on fire. It was a while before I could pick myself up and fetch a hand-mirror to check for injury. My lips were like clam shells, my vagina a great dark pink chasm.

But no damage seemed to have been done; however, I decided to wait until the next day before using the monster again. Next time, I would fasten it to the wall and reverse onto it, rocking my body back and forth as it fucked me doggy-fashion … Despite a shower and application of soothing cream, I could not bear panties.

But knowing he was out, I went in to find that he had left his computer on some radio station. I moved the mouse and the screen came to life. I found the one for the radio and closed it. There on the screen was a girl — well, woman — lying on a sofa and plunging a huge pink dildo between her wide-open thighs.

I was shocked, not so much at the image itself, for I knew that Robert, like every teenage boy, looked at porn, but by the exact match with what I was doing almost every day. My professional eye examined the dildo. Yes, I had one like it. It was a little on the long side for my body, but satisfyingly thick.

She looked like she was genuinely enjoying it. The other thing that shocked — well, surprised — me was that she was not young. I would have said , maybe a well-preserved Not that much younger than me. I had assumed that teenage boys lusted after teenage girls … I sat down at his desk, intrigued despite myself. I clicked back through the pages he had viewed — shot after shot of women, some young but most in their 30s, using dildos of a size and length that sometimes made my eyes water and my pussy grow moist.

There were video clips too, proving that the pictures were not doctored to make the dildos bigger. Woman after woman plunging massive shafts into their holes, holding them deep inside, stretching their labia impossibly, sucking the juices off the latex … I examined his History and Favourites.

So many websites, all on the same themes:

Video by theme:

GETTING CAUGHT DURING "THE ACT"



Huge pussy insertion sex stories

No re-use allowed without permission. I suppose the whole thing was my fault really. I normally get home at about 2. That gives me about 2 hours to myself before my son gets home from school. I call it my DT, or Dildo Time. Today was no exception. The house was quiet; Robert, bless him, had washed up and put away the breakfast things. I hurried upstairs to my bedroom, where I carelessly stripped off my clothes.

I reached under the bed and got out the holdall wherein I keep my toys. I had been feeling horny all day — not an unusual occurrence — and only the largest one would do. It was black, veined and shaped in a life-like manner, but at least twice as large as any living cock had ever been. The head was as big as an orange and the shaft as thick as my upper arm. It was about fifteen inches long, but length is not so much of a factor with me.

Width is what counts. Hurriedly I slathered it with lube and lay on the bed. I spread my thighs and placed the head of the dildo against my labia, feeling them swelling with excitement. I grabbed the base of the dildo with both hands, took a deep breath and pushed, hard. It felt as though my insides were being invaded by some alien monster. The head slid right up into my cavity and pressed against my cervix.

My pelvic floor muscles quivered around the shaft. I shuffled my hips to the right angle, adjusted my grip on the base of the dildo and started to pump — slowly and gently at first, gradually increasing as the passion took me until I was plunging most of the length of the thing in and out of me with a driving rhythm.

Loud squishing noises were mixed with my own grunts and wails. The fat head of the thing was rubbing across my G-spot, faster and faster.

I could feel the orgasm building, like a slow explosion. With an agonised cry I climaxed, squeezing the hard shaft painfully. I felt a jet of hot fluid squirt out of my urethra, onto my hands. I tried a reasonably large dildo in the dark months after my husband walked out, and found the aching fullness comforted me strangely.

I got to using it every day, and gradually my body got used to it and started demanding something more, well, challenging. So I went online and bought a larger one, and found it good.

That was 5 years ago. Now I can only get satisfaction from the very largest bruisers that I can find. When my vagina clamps down on the unyielding mass filling my tunnel, I experience such overwhelming pleasure that I know I could never do without it.

Rather like a drug addict, I suppose. When the orgasm had run its course I pulled the dildo out and lay there panting, feeling the cool air flowing into my wide-open vagina. I rubbed my hand over my soaking wet crotch, enjoying the feel of my swollen, slippery labia between my fingers. The first session had been so fast and intense that I had not even had time to build a good fantasy. In any case, what could I fantasise about except being fucked by ever bigger dildos?

Gradually my breathing and heart-rate slowed to normal. I was still horny, and my gaping hole demanded further attention. I rubbed the head of the dildo across my clit and down over my lips. It wanted very much to get inside again, and I let it have its way. This time I took it slower, massaging my vaginal walls with the huge lump, stirring it around inside me, pulling the fattest bit through my tightest part again and again, building another massive climax in infinitesimal steps … It was bigger, longer and more draining than before.

I squirted again, hotly, almost painfully, and afterwards lay dozing while the juices ran out of me onto the sheets. First of all, though, I have a shower to wash away the grime of work, the sweat of my sexual exertions and the juices that cover my loins.

I usually masturbate again in the shower to help my vagina close up. By the time Robert comes in and gives me a kiss on the cheek I could pass for a respectable mother. If only he knew … Of course, school holidays are a problem.

Fortunately Robert is often out with friends, playing football, even, occasionally, going out with girls, and then I can take advantage of his absence to console myself with an impromptu DT. Recently two events happened on the same day — one good, one disturbing. The good thing was the arrival, by post, of a new dildo.

I had pushed the boat out and ordered, from a US website, the largest device I could find — a blunt, cone-shaped mass of latex that flared out to a eye-popping diameter before ending in a sucker which could be attached to a tiled floor or wall. Just looking at the picture had made my vagina tingle and start to leak. I collected it from the post office in town, a rectangular cardboard package which could have been anything. Walking through the busy high street carrying it gave me a thrill.

What would people say if they could see inside? If they knew that my panties were soaked in anticipation? Once in the house, it was a toss-up whether I first ripped off my clothes or ripped open the package.

The object was revealed, swathed in tissue paper, heavy, black, shiny, huge. I could only just stretch my hands around its base. I wondered, belatedly, whether it would fit. Well, only one way to find out. I peeled off my clothes and my sopping wet knickers in the bathroom, stuck the dildo to the floor, covered it in lube and knelt over it.

I could feel my labia engorging and my tunnel dilating. A deep breath, and I had sat onto the tip of the thing. I realised I was making little crying sounds. I lifted off and looked at the dildo. The smearing of the lube showed that I had got about two-thirds of it inside me. I sat back onto it and bounced up and down a little, gently, getting my vagina used to the idea. It did get used to it, rather quickly. I bounced harder, stretching myself a little more each time, panting like a weight-lifter, relishing the almost-pain.

With a final lunge my buttocks touched the cool tiles. I realised proudly that I had taken the whole dildo inside me!

My orifice felt as if it was going to split; my thighs were cramping and my head span. I leaned back — fortunately I was close to the wall — and slid my fingers across my juice-slick mound and onto my clitoris.

I shook and howled as the climax pumped through me, almost losing consciousness. When eventually it got too much I let myself fall sideways and the dildo popped out of me. There was a puddle on the bathroom floor where I had squirted. My vagina felt as if it was on fire. It was a while before I could pick myself up and fetch a hand-mirror to check for injury.

My lips were like clam shells, my vagina a great dark pink chasm. But no damage seemed to have been done; however, I decided to wait until the next day before using the monster again. Next time, I would fasten it to the wall and reverse onto it, rocking my body back and forth as it fucked me doggy-fashion … Despite a shower and application of soothing cream, I could not bear panties.

But knowing he was out, I went in to find that he had left his computer on some radio station. I moved the mouse and the screen came to life. I found the one for the radio and closed it. There on the screen was a girl — well, woman — lying on a sofa and plunging a huge pink dildo between her wide-open thighs. I was shocked, not so much at the image itself, for I knew that Robert, like every teenage boy, looked at porn, but by the exact match with what I was doing almost every day.

My professional eye examined the dildo. Yes, I had one like it. It was a little on the long side for my body, but satisfyingly thick. She looked like she was genuinely enjoying it. The other thing that shocked — well, surprised — me was that she was not young. I would have said , maybe a well-preserved Not that much younger than me. I had assumed that teenage boys lusted after teenage girls … I sat down at his desk, intrigued despite myself.

I clicked back through the pages he had viewed — shot after shot of women, some young but most in their 30s, using dildos of a size and length that sometimes made my eyes water and my pussy grow moist. There were video clips too, proving that the pictures were not doctored to make the dildos bigger. Woman after woman plunging massive shafts into their holes, holding them deep inside, stretching their labia impossibly, sucking the juices off the latex … I examined his History and Favourites.

So many websites, all on the same themes:

Huge pussy insertion sex stories

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2 Comments

  1. I was one hundred percent sure I had not done it. Well, only one way to find out. Dia moaned louder as three fingers were forced into her cunthole while her shitter was full of cock.

  2. It was to be held at Joey's mom's house while she was out of town on business, and Dia let us pick the objects.

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