Delia was ready.  The housework was done, the shopping was done.  Her husband would not be home for hours.  This was Delia's me-time.  This morning she had been shopping for more than groceries.

Henry stood on the bedside table, alongside the lubricant dispenser.  Henry was a dildo, but not just any dildo.  A ten inches in length, eight inches insertable, one point nine inch girth real-feel dildo with suction cup and realistic balls.  In flesh pink.  This was to be his initiation.  He was probably the biggest she had ever had, although admittedly she had not measured the cocks of every man who had fucked her.

She was wearing new underwear, also purchased that day.  A lacy balconette bra, and a matching suspender belt supporting seamed, deep welt stockings.  No knickers.  Not necessary for what she was planning, they would just get in the way.  On her feet were her highest stilletto-heeled ‘fuck me’ shoes.  She was ready alright.  And very wet.

She took Henry in both hands and kissed the tip.

“Hello Henry, you're in for a treat today.  You're going up my cunt as far as I can get you and then you're going to fuck me until I come.  You will stay deep inside me until I can breathe normally, then I will take you out and suck you clean, suck all that girl-spunk from your big knob, your shaft and your balls.  Then I am going to grease you up, both of us, so that you can slide right up my arse, right up to your big balls.  With you filling me, I will rub my clit until I come again.”

She opened her mouth and sucked Henry between her lips, stretching her jaw, pushing him inside until she gagged.

“Real feel my arse,” she thought.  “a real one wouldn't be cold, a real one wouldhave a foreskin.  How could any parent deny their newborn son the pleasure of a foreskin?  The joy of it being drawn back by fingers, his or any partner, or better still, lips, revealing the moist bulging head, it's eye weeping.  A real one would have that salty teardrop for a partner to kiss away.  And a real one wouldn't taste like tupperware.”

Still a cock in the hand is worth two away at work, and Henry was in hand.  When Delia was very aroused, if she spread her legs, her cunt gaped.  She was certainly aroused, and her legs were spread wide, her cunt wet and gaping.  She rubbed Henry's bulbous tip between her wet lower lips and then positioned him at her entrance, groaning as the head slipped easily inside.  As she slowly pushed further, that delicious stretching sensation swept her.  In and in he went, until at last his plastic balls were against her.  She had taken the lot.

She felt truly stuffed, almost painfully stuffed.  But that was part of the pleasure.  She held him still, relishing the contractions of her cunt on his thick shaft, but impatient for the thrusting.  She started slowly, gradually accelerating until he was sliding all the way out and back again hard, fucking herself.  She knew that she wouldn't come this way.  Using her right hand to ram him in and out, she used the fingers of her left to rub her clitoris.  That did It.  Convulsions of pleasure racked her body.

When the aftershocks had faded and her breathing returned to normal, she slowly and reluctantly withdrew him.  True to her word, she licked and sucked Henry clean.  Delia liked her own taste, she liked to suck her fingers after masturbating, but best of all, she liked to suck her husband's cock clean after he had fucked her and filled her cunt with his spunk, the taste of their juices combined, the finest cocktail.

Then she slathered Henry with lubricant and did the same to her tight little backdoor, unable to resist pushing a finger inside.  Henry had been a tight fit up her cunt, her arsehole was tighter.  Her rosebud resisted, she persisted.  Eventually Henry's head popped inside.  Not exactly painfully, but uncomfortably.  But it was the same when her husband's cock first enters that forbidden hole, that took, was part of the pleasure.

She pushed firmly but gently and gradually Henry gained ground.  Delia was thankfull that they lived in a detached house, her screams would have any neighbours dialing 999.  He was in, up to the root.  Eyes closed, she began to work him, easier and deeper with every smooth stroke.

The voice came from nowhere,

“So this is how you spend your time while I'm away earning a crust.”

Her eyes snapped open and swam into focus.  Her husband.  Caught in the act, Henry was by now deeply embedded.  Dela had no choice but to brazen it out.

“Hello darling, you're home early.”

“Total failure of the IT system.  They sent us home.  Who's your friend.”

“Oh, this is Henry.  He can't shake hands just at the moment, he's busy.”

Her husband was already undressing.

“Does Henry like a threesome.”

She carefully withdrew Henry and stood him on the bedside cabinet.

“Not today, I've drained him dry, but if you don't mind sloppy seconds…”

“On one condition.  Get those tits out.”

She scooped each one from it's lacy nest and allowed them to rest on the folded under cups, offered for his enjoyment, nipples as hard as his now exposed cock.

 He straddled her chest and presented it.

“Suck.”

He said harshly, almost a command. He hadn't showered, his cock tasted sweaty, pissy, but it was real.  There was the heat, there was the salty tear.  Real.  Very real.

As mentioned previously in her introduction of Henry,

“Real-feel dildo my arse.”