[Continued from "Best.  Day.  Ever.  (Part 1)."]

Upon arriving home, the Viking greeted me very nicely.  He seemed happy to see me.  I was happy to see him.  So we fucked.  We fucked a lot.  We fucked good and hard.

We fucked.  Apparently my pussy and ass had already been well-fucked thanks to Jules Verne’s toy collection.  He has a huge duffel bag full of toys of all sorts.  Sex toys, not action figures – at least as far as I know.  Said duffel bag has been carted around quite a bit – he says so he always has things available, I think so his nanny/maid doesn’t find ‘em.

I didn’t know at the time of taking this picture, but these two toys had been in me.  I tend not know what goes in me, only that it feels good.

However, when the Viking was fucking me I knew exactly what was going in me – his cock and his hand.  In my ass and pussy, respectively.  This particular sex act – or combination of sex acts – I find especially dirty and hot.  [It's true, right now just writing about it I feel that familiar and welcome tingling in my pussy.]

It’s very dirty and it’s very hot.  And it makes me come.  And scream.  And come and scream.  I can be as loud as I want during sex; I like that.

Then the Viking got dressed for dinner.  I put on pajamas/comfy clothes.  I was going to take out Isis at least one more time before we left for dinner.  Our plan was to go to dinner and then to Exploratorium AfterDark after we went to dinner, which was after we took a couple of buses to the Marina.

We thought our last Exploratorium AfterDark was in August.  Then some things happened.  Or didn’t happen.  Some bumps in the road.  We thought we would have been out of town by mid-August.  We weren’t .  We aren’t.

So the Viking was dressed, and I was going to take Isis out just before we needed to walk to Mission Street where we’d catch the 49 Mission, then the 30 to he Marina.

Only we were distracted.  The Viking grabbed and puled my pussy lips.  My labia majora.  He grabbed them and pulled them through my pants, which were what I call comfy pants.  I’ve heard them called soft pants.  The kind of pants that really shouldn’t be worn in public, but in which I have no problem taking the dog out to the bathroom.  Oh, and that one time I walked to the bank, but that’s not my usual habit.  Usually I wear real clothes when leaving the house.

It felt damn good, having my pussy lips grabbed and pulled.  We had plenty of time before we had to leave for dinner so the Viking suggested we go upstairs for another round.  Ok!

My favorite part of that particular bout of fucking was the way the Viking held my legs.  I was on my back with my legs spread (obviously) and up in the air.  The Viking positioned himself for easy access to my fun parts.  To keep my legs out of his way, so he could do the hard work of pounding my pussy with his fist, he used his free arm against the backs of my knees.  I was spread open for him with no way to get away.  Not that I wanted to get away.  No, no.  I wanted – and got the Viking’s hand fucking my pussy nice and hard.

More fucking.  More coming.  It was absolutely glorious.

I swear.  True story.

[More to come.  It wasn't evening yet.]

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