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Daughters friend provides needed relief.

But, her lover didn't come. Her nipples grew solid and begged to be tugged, clamped harder in the grip of her silver clamps. She reached down and loosened the screw herself, letting the toy, bite harder into her nipples. Perfect for self stimulation when she couldn't have a womyn's teeth biting into her tits, or tugging painfully at the pink tips. Her fingers circled gently around her ivory breasts, teasing herself as she turned from the window and gazed for something in this sleepy, borrowed flat, anything, to shove into her cunt. So aroused she was past shame, her eyes flickered to the non-existent bed posts, the attached shower head and the expansive size of the pillar candle, before resting on the cream colored wood of the small table chair.

I've always had a thing for inanimate objects, she mused to herself, more as a distraction from the slow throb between her legs, than a self censure, because she already knows, somehow, the chair will end up inside of her. Clenching her pussy lips together, she sat down on the small square stool, rocking a little and wishing for a vibration or a pulse of any source. Her mouth grew dry as she felt the wood pressing into the seam of her still buttoned jeans, nudging one of her lips forcefully against her clitoris. Riding there, she ran scenario after scenario through her head.

She was a goddess worshiped by many talented lovers, lying back as they caressed, appeased and thrust themselves into her. She was a cheap hooker surprised by a gentle but forceful womyn lover dressed as a man, pressing her up, up, hard against the wall. She was herself again, panting and squirming of the video this would make, as a surprise for her lover to watch later.

With that thought in mind, she began to moan as if her lover could see and hear her right now. It was time. Standing up, she unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied out of them, dropping them to the floor, turning her back to the imaginary camera and bending over to finish freeing her feet from the pants. She crooked her finger back at the camera, turned around again, nipple clamps dangling-wishing for a chain and scooped up the light weight wooden stool, carrying it with her into the next room.

Lying down on the bed, she thrust the pillow under her hips, a better view for her love and slowly drew her long fingers across her pussy, darkened with hair and gleaming pink inside. Sliding her fingernails back down through the hair and spreading her lips apart, she thrust into the imaginary tongue, the lens of the camera her lover could be holding. She teased her pussy open with the careful tips of her sharp fingernails, then slowly corkscrewed a clipped thumb deep into the crevasses of her cunt. She could see the sweat starting on the forehead of her lover, feel her reaching for her and mentally swatted her hands away. This was her show. She planned on finishing it. Her own moans as she imagined enveloping the thumb, the dick, the tongue of her lover, made her wetter and wetter.

She reached her left hand out and brought the chair up onto the bed and slipped a condom from the bedside table onto the small square leg of the stool. She slipped another onto the fingers of her left hand and scooped lube out and over the leg of the chair and into her pussy. Then taking both hands, one to hold the chair steady and the other to pull her lips apart, she thrust up, onto the leg of the chair, pushing herself onto the wood.

The square hard edges slipped right in and her pussy pulsed around the un-giving objects.

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