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She begs unintelligibly trying to nod her head, the strain on that pretty neck must be enormous, it’s a good job I warmed her up first isn’t it, not that she’s grateful.I stop her lateral movement. She is now (not that she can see) positioned over a meter long lubricated steel pole. I was tempted to use a sharp end but opted instead opted for a rounded ribbed phallus. I’m going to split her brown cherry with it. I start her decent, for a moment she looks happy.A brief moment later the pole touches her puckered asshole. If it were possible I think she jumped. In any rate she’s flailing like a fish out of water. Slowly her little chocolate starfish opens up to accept its first lover. She tried hard to resist it but between her whole body weight and the lubricant she’d no hope. I slow her decent as she squirms like a stuck pig.“Now that’s what I call dancing” I smirk. She’s begging me to let her up again. Poor slut. I keep her falling that keeps her screaming. One two three inches… It. But my past, my identity, were missing from my mind. The last thing I remembered was waking up just moments ago. When I told the doctor and nurse, a man standing off by the window made a sobbing sound. I hadn’t noticed him before in all my disoriented confusion and focus on the doctors. When I looked over at him, his hand was over his mouth and tears were forming in his eyes. “Mrs. Marvet, do you recognize that man?” asked the doctor. “No… Should I?” The tears in the man’s eyes began falling down his face, as he turned away and exited the room, undoubtedly to prevent everyone from seeing him break down. I was soon to find out from the nurse that the crying man was my husband. The majority of the past 3 months had been spent recovering from my various wounds, rehabilitating my now underused muscles and undergoing every scan, x-ray and test imaginable to determine what kind of damage had been done to my brain and how, or if, I could get my memories back. According to the doctors,.
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