Edna's Lovely Homecoming Surprise (ADULT EROTICA)

I had been up in Edinburgh in bonnie auld Scotland on a blissfully boozy business trip, and was flying back to my home in London (not flying myself, you should understand - I was just a fucking passenger in a fucking aircraft). As Lady Luck would have it, I was seated next to this absolutely gorgeous hunk of manflesh who I observed happily had a very interesting-looking lump in his pants. Quite a mouthful I thought, salivating at the thought1

We got to chatting and after a few G&Ts or four, the upshot was that he dragged me home with him - not unwillingly, especially after he had shoved his tongue doen my eager gob. I, being a loving wife, phoned my then husband, the ultra-faggy Bert, and told him I was delayed and I knew, just knew, Bert would be off to the nearest toilets looking for some trade).2

I have to say my new bedmate was hung like a horse and he slipped me a couple of satisfactory lengths, one in the puss and one where the sun don’t shine. But that was after I had given him one of my very finest blow jobs and he had practically licked my womb clean.3

Reflecting the huge amounts of booze we had demolished, my airborne pick-up fell into a drunken stupor, and his snores were enough to wake the bleeding dead. So I thought, sod this for a lark, I’m out of here. So having determined,I grabbed my clobber, said I had to go, called myself a cab and back to the airport I went to collect my waiting car and then off home in the early hours.4

Which is where I got (even to me, sophisticated bunny that I am) a slight surprise.5

In the days before fame and riches smiled on me, I lived in a modest suburban house in Acacia Avenue, so the ten-ton truck parked outside stood out a bit; I thought, ‘Bert wouldn’t, would he?’ but he had. Would you fucking believe it.6

I crept into the house, as quietly as a little mouse, and up the stairs I went to the master bedroom (which is what we called the one with full en-suite bathroom so you didn't have to walk down the hall for a mid-night tinkle). Ah, those dear long-gone days of yesteryear.7

The bedside light was on and I peeped shyly round the door and what a wondrous sight was there revealed to my scarce-believing eyes and waiting Canon Sureshot.8

Hubby Bert was trussed up and gagged on our marital bed, whilst a hairy-arsed giant pounded into him from the rear, like a mighty piston working double overtime. I could tell he was a really high-class trucker as he was still wearing his official Eddie Stobart hat, and he had folded his trousers neatly by the bedside (although I noticed a nasty skidmark on the inside of his discarded frilly knickers).9

Now you might think most women would be offended to find their spouse acting thus, for gay sex, gaily up-ended; but I am Edna Sweetlove and am made of sterner stuff. So, fighting back my gag reflex (but only just), I took a few quick snaps for the family photo album, smiled ‘Hello, and don’t let me interrupt you for a moment, dears’.10

And, so having said, took out my ever-waiting bullwhip too give them both the lovely thrashing they so fucking richly deserved. And, would you know it, we ended up having a kinky little threesome. 11