Spunkball

Tiger Woods and I are close today.  Real close.
Or at least one of his officially-endorsed golf balls and I are. I have a Nike-branded golf ball in my cunt today.  Better yet, I have a Nike-branded, official Father’s Day golf ball, covered with A’s spunk, in my cunt today.
Last Father’s Day I went to breakfast with W, A & J.  The place was giving away Father’s Day golf balls, and one of the guys had the bright idea that golf balls were just the right size for W’s infamous “stuff steel balls in a girl’s cunt and fuck her” game.  He has these lovely steel balls that he uses (my number is 6, yummm) but I guess they were talking about wanting something just a tad larger…and a golf ball is just about the right size.  It doesn’t have the weight or the lovely slickery rolling around inside me affect that the steel ones do, but A had quite an enjoyable time this morning with it anyway.
I told him that W wanted me to “wear” it to work, so he woke up early and pushed it inside me…then fucked me…pushing it against the walls of my vagina with each thrust. “I’m going to come inside you,” he said, “and you’ll smell like me, all musky, with that golf ball shoved up inside you, all day. That’s my mark on you, that’s my claiming of you.”
I love it that my men want to claim me, want to own me, each their own part and in their own way.  And yes, sitting here in front of the computer, I smell his come in me.  I reach down and slide my fingers beneath the waistband of my panties and between my cunt lips, reaching, reaching…the golf ball is so deep I can’t reach it easily, but with just a little effort I am able to run the tips of my fingers along its pitted curve. I imagine his semen coating it, imagine my insides coated with his sperm, slippery, musky…  I lift my fingers to my mouth and taste him and me, mingled together, and think about W, and love how we are all mingled together.