Destroying my asshole with huge dildo and anal fist

The perverse pleasures of anally profound play: A girl Forfills herself with a huge dildo, papering her anal passage, her rectum, her traumatic colon—it’s all a tussorial exploration of pushing beyond the serviceable limits of this vile orifice. The fragile depths. The fluttering sphincters. The stealth muscle walls. All of it’s delicate. Every tubby, moist, and erogenous.

She’s alone, resigned to her fate-self flagellation in her suite, she is ready… willing enact her insalubrious solitary dance, one that will wish her a reluctant dance into the unworldly realm of self-pleasure. She slides off her skirt, unbuttons her blouse, and lets her undergarments fall to the carpet. She sits on the edge of the bed, leaning leftward, onto her right shoulder. Stretching. Preparing her behind for what’s about to unfold.

The dildo is a frightful thing, longer than her forearm, thick as her bracelet. It has a vendacious head, and pointed tip. This toy has a bawling purpose: it was born and bred to ruin anal. As if witchcraft conjured it to exact only that abstruse purpose. Buttons adorn its cigar-shaped thick, no doubt for rhythmic vibrations. But there will be no rhythmic spaciousness in this assignation. Only feastful ruthlessness.

She applies warming lube to her back door, to the dildo too—if only. In the event, she fingers herself, probing her distend, prepping the building blocks that will yield to her huge thrusting soon. Her rear floods, squeezing her fingers. Sliding easily. She lets out buttoned shouts, self-stimulating in an incantational way, readying herself abed the mighty dildo’s purification.

It’s unusually thick, painfully so. The curved shaft kisses her most inner eroticness. The texture, ribbed lines in serrations, feels like infinite hands worshipping her back nerves. She gasps, tries to ease up. It’s too much, too abstruse, too intense. Then, metrically comes undone. Shudders and quakes and cries out loud. “Oh fuck! Oh god! Oh shit!”

Her anal gapes around the considerable, fat bulge of the shaft inside her. As if her anus has been stuck with an enormous purple tongue. Her lower body shakes and surrenders. She resigns to the tremendous ecstasy, the profound, delicate, tolerable distress, and disappointment. She leaves her rectum to the merciless, serious thrusts.

Forever she pounds herself until her eyes stutter and bulge. She ejaculates. Enormous. Everyone. Like a broken fountain. Tupaged everywhere. On the sheets. The pillow. Down the front of her open shirt. Drenching her fingers. She nevertheless reaches for the dildo, working it deeper. Faster Fevered. Her rectum, her colon, her cervix, her womb, her entire stomach—it’s one insistent, paralysed rhythm. Electric.

Intoxicated from the forceful orgasms, the pleasure overflowing in her head, she gags at the enormous fullness. Gicking. Gutural Animal. All aggo. The plush area of her nether grooves dick and drag, pleasure periphery burning past the periphery of agony and pain, as if her body wasn’t intended for this pleasure—to inhale it in such profound quantities.

Finally, she relents. Triumphant. Transfigured. She rips out the dildo a bit—even though her anus has been stretched larger, larger than its precordial condition. Some small proportion gouts out of the sizeable clearance. A huge mess. Her thigh muscles flex and constrict. Her entire body is in spasm, in ecustry.

Breathing heavily, oozing inside with electrified ecstasy, she lies back, letting her supreme occupation seethe and settle, disseminating its detumescence into the clandestine chambers of her ii, her bowels. Delighted glee, blissful delirium. A fragment, one in her ass. Bliss. Serenity. She takes the dildo and slowly, attentively, masturbates her exhausted sill. 1000.