Big Box box checker 2.

The next morning I awoke from a dream that I had wild unrestrained sex in a shed at my local big box hardware store. It seemed so real that I was writhing in my bed, my skin already hot to the touch, my hips rocking up and my thighs spreading unconsciously. My pussy was twitchy and aching for satisfaction.

My fingers traced the contours of my torso towards my hips, stopping momentarily and cupping my breasts, suspending them by my nipples, as if measuring their weight. At firm pinch of my nipples, a tug and a twist of my swollen areolae, sparked even greater sensation in my nether region.

Rolling on my back, my hands met at the moistening folds between my legs, being warmly received, I began massaging my pussy lips, squeezing and rubbing my swelling pleasure button between them.

I was so wet. More so than usual. My fingers probed my opening, plunging into myself with unexpected ease. I was overflowing with viscous goo. This was quite a dream that elicited such a physical response. I even felt a little sore.

A quick sniff of the gobs of goo on the tips of my fingers confirmed the tell-tale man scent of cum. My asshole was similarly oozing the distinctive remnants of a deposit (or three). Now fully awake, I remembered my adventure in the shed at the big box hardware store.

Dumbfounded by my horniness despite being used by two young studs in so many way, my pussy was literally aching for more cock.

Glad for the extra lube, I snuggled into my hubby's back, and reached around for his morning wood to announce my intentions. His low breathing signaled that he was still asleep, although not for long.

His erection was like clockwork, every morning his semi-rigid staff awoke before he did.

A few gentle strokes, and a light scratching with my nails from its root to its tip, brought him to full strength. He muttered under his breath as he slowly awakened and rolled on his back, giving me permission to do as I willed.

Replaying yesterday's shed episode in my mind's eye, of my body being volleyed between two thrusting cocks, one reaming my ass while the other tested the depth of my throat, my pussy was burning for another dollop of gooey goodness.

No foreplay necessary, I was ready to ride, so I climbed aboard, guiding his rigid member to my dripping opening, which was agape, no doubt why, given its rough and repeated usage the afternoon before.

My juices mixing with theirs, my tube was greased to receive. Once his head past my gates, I just squatted down and rode his rail to the end of the line, his girth displacing the prior loads, squeezing them out like the end of a toothpaste tube. I joyfully bounced on his lap to the chorus of squishing and slapping sounds as our pelvises slammed together.

Hubby's helmeted cock head dredged my deepest crevices for any interlopers' prior deposits, suctioning any trace from within and expelling them in a frothy mess at my neatly shorn opening with every withdrawal, before plunging back into me, like a diver hunting for pearls.

His pistoning rod reamed me clean. And then prepared itself to replace the seed removed with his own.

Sensing he was nearing orgasm, I slid off him to witness his bulbous head pulsing with his heartbeat and swelling to its limits, its skin taut from the boiling blood within it.

He was close to blowing his wad and I wanted to accept his gift as personally as possible. With a few quick strokes between my encircling hands, I watched his helmet flare like an angry bull's nostrils, before erupting hot jets of gooey ribbons. My mouth capped his blasting well, but not before being striped across the bridge on my nose with a thick line of spunk.

Gagging at the volume at first, until I deep throated him, allowing him pump his load until his convulsions subsided, filling my belly with my morning protein.

His softening rod slid from my throat and came to rest contentedly on his abdomen, pointing like an arrow to his smiling face. I kissed its tip, so grateful for my life with this man. And his reliable cock.

Licking my lips, I used my index fingers to squeegee any errant cum on my face to my hungry mouth. Finally, sucking the last of his tangy glaze from my finger tips.

WTF!!! I didn't get MY orgasm.

Spent for moment, he wasn't entirely useless, he still had a working tongue. My intentions were evident as I began shimmying my pussy toward his face.

He shook his head unapologetically, his tongue was going no where near my pussy in its current state.

In fairness, I was a sloppy mess, a cum dump, with no idea how many loads or whose were injected into my willing orifices.

At first I was upset, being denied the bounty of my marital bed, in my current state of arousal, left me frustrated and desiring more than my trusty vibrator could offer.

A quick glance at the clock told me everything I needed to know for now.

It was time to retrieve my tank top.