Tiffany winced. Buford’s words had reminded her of the Bufords’ little family reunion: His twin sons normally stayed with their unwed mother, who had retained sole custody; but they had gotten to stay with their father for Take-Your-Sons-to-Work Day. Dad had taken advantage of the opportunity to show them a good time.
Buford and Sons had been waiting for Tiffany when she had gotten back to the barn with her bucket of slops. Junior and Junior obviously weren’t going anywhere, so Tiffany had disrobed and knelt at the feet of the Unholy Trinity. She had assumed her usual position, on her knees and facing away from them with her ass high in the air, and had placed her hands on her rear cheeks, awaiting the command “Open sesame!” Upon hearing the boys recite the magic words, Tiffany had parted her cheeks to reveal her hidden rear entrance.
Buford had left her in that position while he explained the coming procedure. Tiffany remembered hearing him say that no more than an inch or so of exposed rubber hose was needed to attach the funnel, so it simply made sense to stow the unneeded length of hose in Tiffany’s backside in order to get it out of the way. Buford had droned on and on until he saw her relax and let her guard down. This was the moment he had been waiting for: Like a shot, he had nailed the bull’s-eye at the center of the target Tiffany had set up for him, causing her to gasp and rock forward as the hard rubber forced its way into her secret entrance.
The Peanut Gallery, when it saw and heard the explosive effects of Buford’s direct hit on his exposed target, had burst into cheers. Better than jeers, thought Tiffany. She realized that, by waiting until he could catch her off her guard, Buford had actually eased the entry of the rude Buttinsky into her back passage; for neither she nor her bottom hole was still tensed up when he had driven his vulcanized point home.
Tiffany had looked incredibly cute with both her front and her rear entrances forming a perfect circle, like the two sides of a holed coin. The opening in her backside, aided by her Godfather wielding his rubber magic wand, was a good deal larger than the one in the front though; since Buford’s conjuring had made the pucker disappear from her tight bunghole and magically reappear on her lips: “Oh!” Given the choice of Heads or Tails, the twins had chosen to record both on their cell phones, as they found both her face and her backside great fun to watch.
As Buford relentlessly plied her backside with more and more hard rubber, Tiffany had found herself sorely wishing she could release her cheeks so she could rub her belly; but she had to continue holding her cheeks open like a book, waiting until she was released from her duty by hearing her taskmasters chortle the command “Shut sesame!” She had therefore tried to keep her moans and groans as soft and low as she could to make sure she could hear the arcane, mystic words. Hypnotism really does work, thought Tiffany.
The stiff hose had burrowed deeper and deeper, eliciting delighted cries of “Wow!” and “Yeah!” and “Awesome!” from the boys, and cries of “Oh!” and “Ah!” from Tiffany as well. Finally, after watching their father stow almost the entire length of unwieldy hose away, the boys had agreed that stowing it away was definitely “a good idea!”