In her pussy, she has a large fire egg, carved from rough coral, that’s been coated in butter and well-refrigerated.
Why call it a fire egg, if it was refrigerated? Well, the cold butter is in layers, and it’s melting now. The outer layer was just butter, but that’s all gone. She’s just discovering that the next layer, just starting to melt out of the pores of the surprisingly rough coral, is a spicy Jalapeño butter. What she doesn’t know yet is that jammed into the deepest pores of the coral is a nasty habanero butter, about fifty times hotter…
Meanwhile, for contrast, in her bottom she’s got a well-carved plug of ginger. So she wants the key. She wants it bad.
Stuffed like that, every twitch just guarantees the next, the wetness trickling down her thighs scents the air, and every time he so much as grins at her predicament her body rewards/punishes/betrays itself with a new wave of desperation washing over her.
Wow, we really did it! We got married and you are still my little chaste-boi. And now that it is official, I wanna tell you something about our wedding rings: Mine is made of silver and gold. Yours is made of the key to your chastity cage.
I really liked the thought that the sign of our marriage is at the same time the reason why I posses a husband that is always horny and obedient. I’m sure you are okay with that, right? So then let’s begin with our wedding night. I want at least three orgasms!