Hunter’s sexy snippets

Sometimes on lazy mornings when we are both home all day I will prepare a special breakfast for my husband and myself. The ingredients are commonplace: oats, bananas, frozen fruit, chunks of chocolate, and milk, occasionally a little sugar to taste or spice to add a bit of a sting. The preparation is anything but. Or indeed, anything butt. First I get up early and give myself a good bowel cleanse, pumping my guts as full of clean warm water as I can handle, until my normally flat and slim belly looks pregnant, repeating it until the water runs clear and my ass is clean enough to eat out of. Usually though I do not have to repeat it at all, my ass deep cleaned before anal the night before. Then I head to the kitched, lube up my chocolate hole with edible lube and begin with the insertion. Solids come first, banana and frozen fruit that feels abominably cold inside me and chunks of chocolate. Then I position myself upside down, fat shapely ass up, push a funnel up - or down! - my asshole and add the other stuff. Oatmeal adds a wonderful texture once it is soggy, and besides it is healthy! I pour it in the funnel, add the optional sugar or spice, then pour in the carton of milk. Then I remove the funnel, careful not to spill anything, and replace it with my fattest inflatable plug, well lubed. I give it a couple pumps until it forms an airtight seal in my distended rectum, then one or two, usually two, to make sure. My pussy, tighter than a virgin's from being squished by the toy up my ass, is dripping. I stand back up and head to bed, but do not go to sleep. As my one hand massages the barely palpable bulge of my belly, helping the cramps that mix up our breakfast properly in my bowels, my other hand is stroking my engorged clit. I usually orgasm several times, to make sure the porridge is churned well, hold it in for a good hour. My husband wakes up to my cries of pleasure and immediately goes down on me, licking up my thick, stringy pussy juice with abandon. Sometimes he will fuck me, forcing his large cock into the non-existent space left in my cunny, but never ejaculate. His cum is being saved for later. Finally once I am certain the stuff in my guts is properly mixed, warmed up to body temperature and saturated in my anal juices, I walk to the kitchen to expel it and my husband follows. I get a big salad bowl and squat my fat ass over it, the cramps in my tummy getting slowly unbearable, then deflate the plug and tug it out. A veritable explosion of ass porridge follows, the soggy oatmeal feeling wonderful in my anal canal, the soft lumps of banana and defrosted fruit and warmed chocolate clearly palpable as they pass my rim, propelled rapidly by my poor cramping bowels. I orgasm several times during this delivery, screaming high-pitched and ecstatic for all the few neighbours to hear. They are by now used to it. Meanwhile my husband is watching me and stroking his cock, and when he ejaculates he points his cum into the porridge bowl. I barely notice when I am empty, my guts still spasming with cramps to force out the food despite it being already out. But they soon calm down. I bring the bowl up to the table then seat myself in my husband's lap to eat my breakfast.

'Love,' he compliments, 'I love the taste of your anal juices.'

'Oh,' I reply, 'it really wouldn't be the same without your cum, darling.'