The Brass Bordello Bed

And then came a prolonged period of unadulterated wonderfulness as the bigsplitting thing slid inside, a long, delicious, ecstatic stretching, a profoundly satisfying re-arranging of her insides as it went slithering deep up her bottom. The sphincter was clamping round the intruder, and stretched so tight she thought she had to be a mere hairsbreadth from splitting. But she remained coolly unafraid because she knew her Force understood precisely what she could take, as well as knowing exactly what she NEEDED.

Then Laura simply exploded from the overload of both openings going at once, bit down hard on John's tongue, her belly and crotch clamped furiously, sucking on John's cock, vacuuming the sperm out of him as he arched up to meet her. And at exactly the same moment, deep in her bowels, she felt another, familiar, set of twitchings and rivulets of liquid warmth. How very nice, indeed!

The whole assemblage hung there, suspended, for what seemed like hours, then slowly settled back down together, eyes still closed. Slowly, they re-arranged themselves: their arms seemed to slip effortlessly from Mr. Bed's loosening curlicues, and silently they lay there, Laura cuddled in John's arms, deeply satisfied in a way she'd never imagined possible.

She thought to herself as she drifted slowly along: "Wow. Double WOW! What a neat dream, or fantasy, or hallucination, or whatever... I wonder what it'll be like when I wake up?"

John's breathing slowed, and she decided he was asleep, or very nearly so. She contemplated, drowsily, her own thoughts about their lovemaking... how intensely realistic and long-lasting a dream it had been... and maybe all this business with Mr. Bed was only a dream, from which she'd finally wake up some day?

Her hand slid down over her hip, and her fingers dipped into her buttocks-cleft. Both of her lower openings still tingled to the touch. Her pussy was dribbling John's sperm slowly and wetly down the front of her thigh... and as her fingers explored, they found something equally slippery and sticky oozing from her bottom, too.

How odd, she thought again, that everything in my dreams can be so fantastic, so real, so strange. And she drifted off to sleep within her own dream.

Dawn came early. Behind her closed eyes, Laura woke with a start. She thought to herself, "Jeez! What a dream that was... or maybe it still is!" She was so warm and comfortable, nestled here in her dream lover John's arms, the very early-morning sunlight playing across them.

She studied the situation, her eyes still closed to preserve the dream. Muzzily she posed a silent question to herself: "Am I awake or not, and how do I know?" She made tiny body movements, and felt the coverlet over them... it seemed perfectly arranged, and she didn't remember them putting it on. She knew her eyes hadn't been open since she'd closed them last night after the adventure, after she had felt both of her openings so nicely and simultaneously invaded. WHAT a DREAM! she thought to herself, again.

Slowly and carefully, she opened one eye a slit... and there in front of her was John's smiling face, his twinkling blue eyes looking straight into hers. She gasped, and he grinned. As she goggled, he silently rolled over on his back, pulling her with him. His cock was once again swollen and ready, lying big and hard against her thigh. Merely noticing that touch made her insides swirl unbearably - she KNEW exactly what she needed.

So, apparently, did he.

This moment was most certainly NO DREAM, she realized, wondering briefly which of her memories were dreams and fantasies, which real. Laura watched as his strong, big hands moved her into position over that instrument, felt him position the tip against her flowing and tingling pussy lips.

With his cock properly positioned, he reached up to cup her head in his hands, looked at her with the most intense, loving expression, and whispered "Ready for a repeat? With our eyes open?"

Not a trace of embarrassment or uncertainty bothered her. Gleefully, she nodded, and drove herself downwards as he lifted to meet her. How incredibly ready and willing her body was, to both receive and give this pleasure. How nice. How extraordinarily, exquisitely, earthshakingly nice nice Nice NICE!!

But something had changed - under her knees, Mr. Bed's mattress held them firmly, lumpily, slightly bumpy, unyielding in its packed horsehair oldness. How odd... and what a nice oddness, this combination of nice and odd!

John's hands were on her hips, helping grind her mound and clit against his beautiful pubic hair... her hands were on his chest, pinching his nipples and making him gasp.

As she stroked herself up and down John's seemingly infinitely long cock, she glanced at the headboard, looked long and hard at the curlicues and wriggles there. They looked used, tarnished, as if -perhaps- they could be useful if one wished to be sexually inventive.

The brass grin was hard to locate... in fact, she couldn't be sure it was there at all. She drove herself hard down on John's cock, and grunted as he moved her insides about, then exhaled a long sigh as she began to climax again and again and again, her eyes fixated on John's wide-open gaze.

And just outside of her focus, Mr. Bed seemed to give a shrug, and settle into waiting mode.

He had plenty of time: it was people who didn't have nearly enough of that!

Laura collapsed down onto John, his cock buried inside her where it really truly belonged: she felt the old mattress beneath them, how it didn't yield or cuddle, and murmured aloud, "How nice!"