Connie, thirty-three, that’s me. Continuously searching. Constantly needing satisfaction, however brief. First orgasm at seventeen opened my mind to wild desires.

Frequent iron-hard cock is essential. Foreskin or not. No matter. Fingers wrapped around such solidity is rapture. While tracing the large under-vein, viewing the shining purple, sometimes cherry, head, with its tiny slit, I’m deciding where I want it.

Occasionally, it’s two together, but it’s been two separately tonight. Now comes the third. Tall, handsome, confident that his huge cock knows instinctively which orifice to fill.

He’s written lucratively about all my couplings since I married him.