And hop to it!" You know, a hotdog just doesn't hit the spot without the right condiments." Shut the fuck up and spread your legs."The hotdog was begi...ning to hit his spot as she adjusted her aim. His rear entrance dilated and stretched wide as the dildo pushed into him. Now she was pressing past the rings of muscle guarding the entrance to his guts -- his innermost self. All his defenses were down and she was pounding into his tunnel.Her metal-harnessed thighs jingled as they whacked against. They flung the door open, stripped off their clothes, and ran to the bedroom, feeling their jaws drop at the sight before them.Isaac's project was on the floor at the foot of the bed, about the size of a beer keg. It had an aluminum skeleton frame made from bicycles with top lined with the seat cushions of a junked car. Inside was the motor from the broken power sander, turning a gear with a riveted arm attached. The arm had a secondary joint, turning the rotational movement of the arm into a. "I'm so very sorry."SG's eyes fluttered open, and her lips moved. Estelle put her ear next to SG's mouth."It was wonderful," SG whispered. "It was so fucking wonderful."SG wanted to go back to the attic the next evening, but Estelle refused. It was too dangerous. Eventually, someone was going to see them go into the closet. Or hear SG's cries and moans. Besides, this was getting sick.SG felt hurt and disappointed. But she couldn't make the machine work by herself.Well, Estelle wasn't the only. She did not first dip in ink. "Is that a magic pen?" Magic?" Faoril asked."You did not dip it in ink." Oh, no," she answered. "The journal is enchanted with fire magic. When I press with the quill on it, the page is scorched and leaves behind black markings. It's not as clear as ink, but in the field one has to make do. Besides, I do not have to wait for the ink to dry." Oh," I nodded."Now, let us examine your cock." Faoril moved closer and set her journal on the bed beside me. Then she stroked.