My cock no longer needed anymore stimulation. It was going blow in pure defiance of the neglect. She sensed this and pulled her finger back but kept up the patting. The first wave hit. My anal muscle clamped down on the rubber cock and my own cock throbbed violently, causing a jet of cum to shoot all the way to my chin. My wife backed away and watched. A second wave hit causing my cock to throb with more f***e. Shooting another jet of cum far enough to hit my cheek. I fully in the throes of orgasm. The only stimulation was the pressure of the big dildo shoved fully up my anal pipe. Another jet of come. My cocked bobbed violently, hitting my stomach and painting my chest with white sticky fluid. My hips thrashed back and forth, pumping my bobbing cock into the air and spewing jet after jet over the bed below me. All I could do was helplessly grunt and continue pumping at the empty space. After what seemed like a full minute of bobbing and thrashing, the orgasm started to subside.. If she wanted to ... and she didn’t ... she’d need to move away. She could. There was nothing tying her to the town. Except ... she thought of Esme, receptionist at the Health Club. Glad, of the Barge Tearooms. That librarian, what was her name? Dulcie, at the church. People who accepted her as she was, extended the hand of friendship. Would she find the same elsewhere?She showered – again – and dressed with care. Thick tights under a long skirt in a heavy, dense, wool mix. A blouse, but over it a thick, soft jumper. Long winter coat. Sensible shoes.The sound of church bells penetrated her consciousness; not loud, the sound was considerably attenuated by the double glazing. A moment’s panic, thinking that she was late, before checking the clock; twenty minutes, plenty of time to get to the church without rushing.It was too cold to amble, so she walked briskly down to Church Street, finding herself among others, ones, twos and threes making their way to St. Mary’s. As a result, she.
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