Function Check

Back in the States, Bridget was raising and lowering her hips to drive Mac's cock deep into her ass while she furiously plunged the chrome phallus into her sex. Her bed springs squeaked loudly as her pale body quickly rose up and down; her mouth open in a long, rapid hyperventilation. "Oh God! Oh fuck! Oh! Oh! Oh!' she cried as her walls tightened around the third and final pressure plate; Mac's cum now highly pressurized and slightly hot from the thermal forces of hydraulics.

Mac's veiny member bulged and twitched as he forcefully buried his cock all the way inside of her with each thrust. As a courier, he was accustomed to being used by bored housewives and even the slightly unsettling tendency for older women to repeatedly order trinkets to be delivered so they could use him; this was by far the best delivery he had ever been on.

Bridget used both hands to drive the chrome phallus as fast and deeply as she could; her teeth locked in blissful agony. "Hhhhhnnnnnnnn!" she grunted before her breathing became deep and throaty. She tossed her hands to the sides and braced herself on the bed as Mac hammered her ass from below. Her walls clenched violently; triggering the pressure plate to erupt in a stream of hot, thick cum. Mac saw her body quake with the power of her orgasm and felt her asshole clench tightly around his wild, thrusting member. He held her hips and watched her pussy grip and spasm around the phallus.

She slapped the mattress, looking for his hand. When she found it, she pulled it up to her neck. "**** me! **** me!" she whimpered. The veins on Mac's neck popped as he drove his cock in as fast and hard as he could; his hand tightening around her long, lovely neck. Bridget gasped as her entire body went stiff. Her sex contracted so hard that it pushed the phallus out to land on the bed between her legs as one of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever experienced tore through her quivering body.

Mac grunted like a triumphant primate and buried his cumming cock deep inside of her as he tightly squeezed her throat, her ass clenching around his pulsing, squirting member until his testicles clenched again and flooded her bowels with his seed; even as the hot cum from the phallus seeped into her body.

Bridget collapsed onto him, his cock still deep inside of her. He kissed her breast and nipple as spasms rocked his body; each contraction sending more and more cum inside of her. She lay there on top of him, gasping for breath and smiling as his grip tightened. Her well-fucked, oxygen deprived mind drifted as if in a daydream. "Am I the first woman to have a single man cum in both my holes?" she thought, amused at the idea. She felt his grip loosen as he stopped convulsing.

Bridget gently slid off of him and lay on her stomach as she was sure her ass was full of cum and didn't want to have to laundry tomorrow. She lay there with her chin resting on her hands as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Thank you. That was nice." Bridget said with a slight smile on her face. Mac scoffed.

"Nice? That was a fuckin' miracle!" He said, fixing his hair and wiping his sweaty brow. "War or not, I"m movin' to Ireland!" he said. Bridget blushed and laughed as she slowly slid to the edge of the bed. When she was standing, she tightly squeezed her anus causing his seed to run down her smooth pussy lips and down her lovely thighs. She then contracted her vagina to add the still quite warm semen from the phallus to the running channels of seed.

"They should paint that image on the side of plane..." Mac thought aloud. Bridget chuckled again as she walked to the bathroom to clean up. She was quite pleased as she ran the bathwater. Her design was a complete success, and she'd just had one of the best use sessions of her life. There was so much cum that she just added it to the lather she used to shave her legs. It was supposedly very good for the skin, according some Dame magazine article she'd read once. She knew she'd be tired for her shift tomorrow, but she couldn't help but smile at taking some time to enjoy herself.

........................................................................................

Peter and Moira O'Dell climbed into the back of a Deuce and a Half with a bullet-torn canopy. They looked back the factory that had provided them with a modest, but comfortable life and realized that they had what little money in the bank and little else. She was sure Peter would be able to find work with his skill-set, but where that would be she had no idea.

"They are going to invade. That's the only explanation." Peter said, his Lee Enfield propped between his legs. They were two of twenty battered, shell-shocked factory workers. Six more trucks were similarly occupied. Moira looked out and up into the sky.

"You can't leave." one of the men said. Moira looked at Tom Kirkpatrick. He had a bandage over his left eye, a deep red spot in stark contrast to the white cotton dressing. "They'll move ya' to a new factory; until that one gets bombed too. It's the story of Ireland."

Peter looked upon his frightened wife. He sat his jaw and nodded once decisively. "I've got a daughter in America. Think the wife an' I'll go for a visit."