In a desperate attempt to climax, she mauled her cunt – bloated, purple with blood, hard. She was ready, like always. During the last few months she had been ready. But like her husband, her orgasms had evaded her.

She worked frantically on her pussy now. Humping. Twisting. Her body was all full of motion. Clawing, rubbing fingers tortured her hard clit.

"Oh, oh, oh," she ranted hungrily. Her back stiffened. Her pussy was on fire, but nothing happened.

Like the brass ring on a merry-go-round, her orgasm eluded her when she tried reaching for it. She heaved in frustration. Her glazed blue eyes settled on the bed-posts, and in her lustsapped brain they looked like cocks. She crawled to them, whimpering urgently.

Arm outstretched, she reached for the wooden post, stroked it with her fingers, caressed it with her eyes. After hauling herself to her feet, she straddled the slim wooden bedpost. With palms flat against the mattress, her weight on stiff arms, she dragged her cunt back and forth over the pointed wooden tip. Her knees buckled at once. The post gouged into her cunt, sinking deep.

Spastic cunt muscles attacked the bedpost. She felt the hard wood probe deep inside her spongy wet pussy. Her hips racked frantically, her body totally impaled. Her thick blonde hair fell over her face as she stared down at the bed.

"Oh Christ, I think I'm going to cum!" She struggled, like before, to reach her orgasm and satisfy her overwhelming lust. It was an agonizing battle.

Moaning incessantly, she ground her pussy down onto the bedpost. Heavy swollen tits felt like dead weights, jiggling beneath her.

Like a bucking pony, she rode the deliciously hard bedpost. She could feel it deep inside her, and it made her more delirious. Hot sudsy juice streamed from the pulsing walls of her overactive cunt. Her gooey cuntlips slid up and down the smooth wood.