By: Anprod
It started on Thursday night.
I should say she started on Thursday night. I had gone to bed while Elizabeth was reading – a novel she’d been immersed in, every spare moment, for two days. When I walked into her room to say Goodnight, I glimpsed that she had her hand inside her bathrobe. I knew she was touching herself. She quickly pulled her hand out, but, as I leaned down to kiss her mouth, she touched just beside my mouth, and I caught the faint, sweet smell of sex on her fingers.
Her mouth opened unexpectedly when I kissed her, and the tip of her tongue slithered under my upper lip and across my teeth. Ever-so-quickly she sucked my lip into hers and bit it gently, then kissed the bite.
“I’ll see you in a little while.” She looked me straight in the eye for a moment, before putting her lips back against mine in a much more modest goodnight kiss, of the sort that passes between married people most nights.
If I hadn’t been so tired from a long day in my workshop, I might have detected the message implied in her words: she would come to my bed tonight. But I missed it, paying attention only to the mild taste of tawny port she had left under my lip.
Elizabeth liked her port – especially, I was discovering, when she had sexy thoughts or one of her special intentions in mind.
I sleep naked. Elizabeth, on the other hand, sleeps in socks and sweatpants and a t- shirt or sweatshirt, depending on the weather. Tonight, though, when I felt her pressing into my back some time later, what awakened me was the feel of her pubic hair nestling into the crack of my bottom and her small breasts moving against my back. It felt very naked in my bed. And, somehow, her brown-blond bush – full, thick, lightly trimmed – only added to the nakedness of her … that and the orange & pink striped socks she still wore as she nestled her body, breasts & belly & thighs, along the length of me.
Her hand, her long fingers, came around to find my face. She lightly stroked under my nose, slipping the tip of her finger just inside the nostril and moving it in and out. That action brought me fully out of my sleepy haze and stirred my groin. She withdrew her hand, and as I waited — almost holding my breath – I was aware that she was touching herself, masturbating herself. I shuddered with the realization of it. And then her finger – fingers, now – came back to my lips and nostrils, slippery wet.
She was aroused, bold. I trembled in anticipation. She explored ears, my nostrils and my mouth, and then returned to churn up more moisture between her legs. In the near- silence of my room, I could hear the juiciness of her pussy. When she brought her fingers back to my face, her other hand came to hold my forehead … firmly holding my head against hers. I felt her leg cross over my right thigh and with her athlete’s body easily pulled her hairy pudendum forcefully into my butt-crack. Her now-pungent fingers played across my face, my closed eyes and back into my nostrils before insisting on entering my mouth.
I acceded. My mouth took in Elizabeth’s long fingers, two of them, and I alternately sucked and licked them as they squirmed all around and probed back towards my throat. I fought the gag reflex and relaxed through it, giving her deep access for a few seconds, but she withdrew and went again to her pussy to finger herself and gather more secretions. In the quiet of my room, I could hear her wetness as she stirred and collected her juices. Then she brought her slippery fingers back to my face, smearing the smell of her arousal all around my mouth and into my nose. Another audible insertion into her pussy brought out fingers that opened my jaw again and filled my mouth with the taste I knew to be her unkempt desire. I drank more of this aphrodisiac and spiraled past all resistances. I was hers now. She understood this. *
She whispered into my ear:
“Touch yourself, Robert.”
I did not like to do this in front of her. She pulled her fingers out of my mouth and covered my eyes with her hand.
“Play with yourself, Baby.”
And then her other hand, the one that had controlled my head moments ago, joined the first and darkened me like a blindfold. Since I could not now see her watching me do it, I brought my hand to my penis. I held it loosely … I felt the weight and near-hardness of it … I spread the thinly viscous fluid oozing out, covering the deep-pink, spongy head of it. I played with myself for her.
I felt her kisses on my shoulder and her breath there. And I blushed hot when I felt her eyes on the movement of my hand and the further erection of my penis. As she wanted, she was seeing me masturbate. But I did not stop.
“Give me saliva, Sweet Man.” She touched my lips again and gained entry. I held my mouth open for her to touch it all through: along my gums, to slide far down into my throat and stimulate the saliva glands under my tongue and gather what she needed. “I’m gonna to put my finger inside you, Baby.”
I needed no more than the few seconds she allowed me to imagine her doing that, and I felt my anus tighten and then, I believe I willed it to open just slightly, so that when she pulled apart my cheeks and her wet finger found me exactly, I easily gave way to her penetration. She moved slowly, slowly in, still blinding me with her other hand … slowly in, in, not stopping until her index finger was completely in my rectum. My need squeezed her there. She felt wonderfully big.
“Jesus. Just doing this to you is going to give me an orgasm, Sweetie.” She moved in harder against my back. I felt her gently humping my tailbone. Breathing, breathing, breathing. Then the dear, familiar little cries in her chest … the brief, swift period of a fraction of a minute, when she rubs her pussy frantically against my bottom … and then is quiet.
Breathing, breathing, breathing. Elizabeth. Her fallen-open mouth kissed vaguely my shoulder and left me wet there. And … and now, at last, she moved her finger, began to pull it out and push it in, in, into my completely willing ass. I pushed back. I heard grunting … mine and hers, our foul, beautiful speech.
*
She talks to me, plainly:
“Tell me, Robert ….
“Yes … yes, Honey Man, tell me.” She is lovingly assaulting me.
“Tell me, Baby.”
There is the sweet pain now. Her finger pushes into the dark pain way inside me. My hips, in turn, push my penis into a delicious pain against my roughened hand. I am close, and she can tell.
“I know, Baby, I know. I know what you want to tell me. I know what it is.”
She is vibrating her finger inside me. I am not in control of my hips
“Yes, I know. I just need to hear you say it. Tell me what you want, Sweetheart. Tell me what I can do with you now. Tell me about tomorrow night … whisper it to me, Robert.”
Now the pain becomes such a pleasure that it can’t be stood. It reaches too far and suddenly begins its dissolve into that intense tickle that spreads across the thighs and electrifies a belly, that itches my breasts and makes my pussy squeeze and convulse around her thrusting finger
Rocking, crying, I do whisper it: “I want to … be … want you to … fuck me … fuck me tomorrow night. I want … want it … I want to be your … girl tomorrow … for you to do … things … make me … make me your … Baby.”
Then you reached over my hip and took my hand away from my twitching penis and held it against my hip. I was desperate. You hunched into my bottom, fiercely, your bush wet in the gash, pushing me over onto my stomach.
“Let it come out on the bed, my Love … let it all just shoot out onto the bed … while I tell you about tomorrow.”
I poured.
Robert tried desperately to hold onto my finger as I pulled it slowly from his bottom. And, oh, I wanted to keep it buried deep in the heat of his rectum, so delightfully finger- fuckable is he, my Robert, so responsive and daring. But if I have learned anything about sex in my 43 years, it is that, sometimes, less really is more … sometimes, the far sexier thing is to stop just short of satiation, to leave my Baby (and myself!) craving more.
Besides, as a practical matter, I needed my finger back just then. I needed my right hand to pull his hand away from his hard, twiching penis, which he had cradled to this now-unstoppable climax. So, despite his groan of protest, I let my finger slip out through his anus, and I quickly reached across his hip to grab his wrist and prevent him from touching himself further. He strained in my grip, as I held his arm firmly along his side. He was helpless to stroke himself. I pressed into his bottom with my hairy pubic mound as he started to ejaculate his miraculous semen.
“Oh, so good, sweet Robert … such a bad, horny man you are.” He groaned.
“Yes, Baby, just let it come out on the sheet. It’s okay, see?” (I had, before I waked him, spread our rubber sheet across as much of the bed as possible, mostly in front of him.) As he became aware of the rubber sheet, it seemed to stimulate him more and extend his orgasm. He rolled his face into the wonderful smell and feel of the rubber (which we both found extremely erotic). His body turned into it, and again his hips jerked, signifying more rising, spurting semen.
I loved on him from behind, almost lying on his back now. I kissed his perspiring shoulder and sucked lightly on his neck. And I continued to hold his wrist, to keep him away from his penis. It was obvious from his quivering hip-thrusts that he was still in the final, soft, elongated shudders of orgasm, so I just rode it with him, which started another ascending spiral of arousal between my legs and began to make me wet again. Finally, he was done.
“Be still.” I held my not-completely-clean finger up for him to see, and the smell of his shit, while not unpleasant, created an instant knowing between us of the total intimacy of all this, of what we would uncover and allow of each order in order to satisfy this dark sexual necessity of ours. “I’ll be right back … don’t move. I’ll clean this.” I kissed the hollow of his ear. “I love you.”
At the bathroom sink, I rinsed my finger and then thoroughly lathered and scrubbed my hands. I squeezed out a warm, wet washcloth and located the other things I needed at moment: a jar of glycerin suppositories, a Tampax, a tube of K-Y jelly and two latex gloves. I returned to the bed, climbing in on the side Robert had been facing during his climax. Pooled there now was a copious amount of his semen, pale, pale gray and white against the blue rubber sheet. It was separating, as semen does, into two kinds of fluid: the thick, cloudy stuff, and the clearer, slightly less viscous stuff.
I sat beside his head, and he looked up, just inches below my smallish breast. Instinctively, I leaned to him and guided my puffy nipple into his mouth. He sucked me eagerly, so expertly that it closed my eyes for a moment, lost in the thought of nursing him. I remembered having my milk, fifteen years earlier, and many times asking him to empty me of the extra, when our infant son would leave me part-full and aching for relief. He never declined to drink my breast milk back them, and we both got off on it. Now, as then, I rocked gently on the bed, increasingly turned on by the sensuous feel of my naked buttocks on the rubber sheet and the huge quantity of cum spilled there in front of Robert’s softened penis .
I gazed at him, all love. His eyes both smiled and burned back up at me. Everything about him said Yes to whatever was in my mind to do with him.
Suddenly, not wanting to think about it very much, I pulled away and lowered my opening mouth to the large pool of semen and slurped in as much as I could. Raising my head, I looked straight at him and swallowed it. I went down to the sheet again, sucking and licking what remained there, swallowing the sweetsalty viscous like a fresh oyster, savoring his not-distinctive taste, remembering other men. I kissed him full on the mouth, smiling at his sudden hunger for me, and hoping, curiously, that he could taste the boys and men I had sucked before him.
Then I told him a story – a play, really, one that he already knew, because we had acted it three times before. I spoke to him softly, but definitively, about where we were going in the hours ahead of us, about what I needed from him and what he should expect from me. It was a huge turn-on for me to hear myself saying these things, to use these words to describe what I was going to do to him to make him be my girl.
I reminded him that he would have to be given a large enema in the morning, two enemas, actually, to get all inside-clean for me. I would shave his chest, his legs and … well, everything but his beautiful, thick, wide bush, where I loved to go and smell him in the dark of it. I wanted him smooth-skinned everywhere else on his beautiful body, so that he would slip easily into the new woman-things I had bought for him to wear.
As I say, Robert understood (and liked) the play I require: Several times a year, I need to have one day and a night, in which I am the male of Us and he’s the female … for sex. I need to use -- or wear in a strap-on harness belt -- a realistic penis dildo about his size of him. I need to dress him in a few things – plain, but silky to get him ‘in touch with his feminine side’ I need to watch him take my ‘penis’ deep in his mouth and suck it until I get an orgasm just from watching him do it. And I need to fuck him in his ass like a guy fucks a woman in her pussy. Simple as that. I want to cum doing it, and to make him cum under me. Under me, like my girl.
He had drowsed off towards sleep, it seemed. Quietly I went around to the other side of the bed. Gloves. K-Y jelly. I spread him and pushed my finger in deep, turning it and lubricating his hole. Then, I slipped a large suppository in, and a second, lingering inside when he shifted and lifted his bottom to me in obvious invitation. I stayed, for his need and my fascination. Finding his prostate, I stroked him sweetly for a time, in the night, with tiny motions. Then, withdrawing, I pulled off the gloves. I wiped his bottom with the washcloth. He looked so vulnerable that my throat caught in a kind of sympathy … I knew that I would have to hurt him some.
In my reverie, I remembered the Tampax. I tore the familiar paper wrapper, like I’ve torn a thousand others, and took out the white cardboard applicator. I squeezed KY on the cotton tampon, opened his cheeks and exposed what was even now becoming the ‘pussy’ of a girl-friend I was soon going to fuck. The tube slipped easily through his anus and into him. I pushed the inner cardboard tube, which pushed the tampon forward and seated it deep inside my dear Robert’s ass. I wiped away the little excess of jelly. Seeing the three inches of white string sticking through his puckered opening and lying in the dark hairs there, which were more profuse towards his scrotum, I was overcome by feelings of tenderness and fierce, terrible desire. I kissed that string and touched his balls
Covering his nakedness, I whispered, “In a while, my Sweetheart, in a while. You sleep now.”
“You, too, my Love,” he whispered back.
That he was awake all these past minutes, while I was inside him, while I was putting the suppositories and the tampon into him … that he quietly let me do that, excited me very much. I felt like masturbating right there beside him.
As he rolled towards me onto his back, I saw that his penis was lying erect against his belly. I touched it through the sheet. How could I not?
In the morning, I awoke with a painfully hard penis and a very uncomfortable fullness in my rectum. My bladder signaled an urgent need to pee. Before I even opened my eyes, the feel of bright sunshine on my face told me that I had overslept. My mind raced ahead: “What day is this?” (Friday) “What’s on my schedule?” (that I’ve probably already missed!)
Not a good beginning to the day. And then I remembered about this day. I remembered the night before: I belonged to Elizabeth for this day.
I eased my eyes open. As if I had conjured her by my previous thought, there stood my dear Elizabeth, right beside my bed. She had the faintest smile on her beautiful, fresh face, which swooned me … in the split second before I noticed her haircut. She had obviously just come from getting her hair cut … and short! It had that just-washed-and- toweled-not-combed look, kind of spiky and squeaky clean. She had on no makeup or lipstick, only a light sprinkle of freckles across her nose. She was dressed in faded jeans and a white t-shirt. Her nipples showed, invitingly. (I loved her B-cup breasts!)
In one fluid motion, she flipped the covers completely off me and sat down on the bed next to my all nakedness. The same brilliant sun splashed across my belly … and her arm, as she slowly traced her fingertips around/across my nipples and down to my penis. I felt her short nails, as she trailed them down my average length.
“Well, good, good timing, I’d say, Mr. ___________.” Squeezing me firmly, she looked mischievous and flirty and commanding, all at once. I was smitten, for the 10,000 time.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” I said, reaching to pull her head down to mine, bringing my mouth to her closing eyes, tracing her face with my lips. Elizabeth was wholly beautiful to me. I kissed her eagerly. Soon, though, she was the even more eager one, holding my jaw open and tonguing me deeply, reminding me of the previous night, of her finger entering me and of the intention she had for me today. I warmed under her and drank from her familiar mouth.
“I don’t know about ‘beautiful,’ but I am going to be fucking you, sweet boy.” I lifted my pubis hard into her hand. “Now roll over. I need to relieve you of that Tampax in your ass.” (I had forgotten it!) She pushed against my hip and turned me facing away from her. I heard the sound of several Kleenex being pulled from the box beside the bed. She spread my butt-cheeks open and tugged on the string; I felt the expanded size of the tampon, resisting.
“Wait a minute … stay put.” She reached into the bedside drawer and got out the Liquid K-Y. “I want this to slide right out, my Love, with no string breaking off.” She separated me and deftly inserted the slender tip into my opening, around the tampon, squeezing the lubricant in. She used her finger to loosen me slightly, and then she slowly, smoothly pulled the swollen Tampax out of my rectum.
It was an immensely pleasurable passage, both physically and psychologically. I wanted to luxuriate in the relief and open sexiness of it, but I suddenly needed to be on the toilet! I told her so. “Good,” she said. “I need to go, too. Come over to my room, when you’re done.”
“I will.” And I hurried into my bathroom, feeling the effects of the mild suppositories she had put in me the previous night. For the next ten minutes, I endured the delicious discomfort of emptying my colon of what felt like an enormous load of toxic waste. My penis was still quite stiff, so I had to hold it down inside the toilet seat with my hand, in order to empty my full bladder into the bowl, instead of onto the floor. The simultaneous releases were heavenly! Looking down between my legs, I saw only my pubic hair – my penis was pushed out of view – and I gave myself over to imagining what Elizabeth would do to me to effect our imminent little "gender flip." I knew it would again involve securing my penis and my balls back between my legs, where any arousal would be a very mixed blessing for me.
After finishing on the toilet, I did an abbreviated version of my usual morning ritual: brushing my teeth, a quick shower (not thorough, knowing what was soon to come in Elizabeth’s room). I pulled on some clean jeans.
I had just finished shaving, when she reappeared, watching me wipe the soap from my face. I kissed her, softly and thoroughly, and she returned my awakening passion with matching interest. Then, without a word, she turned on the hot water and picked up my shaving brush. She stirred up a froth of lather in the soap mug and brushed it into the modest amount of hair on my chest and around my nipples; she raised my arms and spread the lather into my armpits, as well. And with practiced dexterity from years of shaving her own legs and underarms, she shaved me smooth in less than a minute.
Kissing my nipples, then biting them sharply, she promised me, “I’ll take care of your legs and your bottom back in my bathroom.” She lowered her head to lick and bite my nipples again, tugging them with her teeth. “Oh, I do love you all smooth, Robert.” She met my eyes with blazing sexuality and spoke to me silently, with nothing but audible breath passing between us. She was starting to drive me crazy!
I pulled her back to my chest and, with my other hand, pushed my now-hairless nipple into her wide-open mouth. She knew this meant that I wanted her to be rough now and start to make me notice my “breasts.” She filled her mouth with me, capturing my flesh in her teeth and tugging it painfully out from my chest. We both groaned, as she moved her head around, like a puppy refusing to give up a retrieved stick. When she broke the suction and released me, it looked and felt like my adolescent aureole, red and wet. She stared straight into my eyes and pinched my other nipple between her strong finger and thumb, until a pain-tear formed under the rim of my eye. Then she sucked on that breast in, too, and made it like the first: red and wet. After a while, she moved back to the other one and worked it over again, all but eating and swallowing me. '”Yes, yes, yes, oh, oh yes" ... I ground into her face ... "Make me sore, Baby." And she did, both of them.
"Let's go to my room now, Sweetheart."
I shuddered. I knew what we were close to: the enema that I both dreaded and craved. Elizabeth hooked her finger in the belt-loop of my jeans and led the way, out through my bedroom and across the hall, then through her bedroom into her spacious bathroom. What I saw there caught my breath in a crush of total excitement. The wide, wooden dressing bench (originally, a sturdy yard-sale coffee table, for which she had made a futon cushion) was now covered with the blue rubber sheet, reminding me of the incredibly sexy way she had slurped my semen from it at the beginning of this sex play. The clear three-quart enema bag hung from a hook on the wall, full and heavy with slightly cloudy/soapy water, ready to course through the five-foot length of white tubing and the over-sized feminine douche nozzle. My insides anticipated the onslaught.
"Take your pants down." It was a gentle command.
"And I want you to be quiet for a while. Don't talk or make any noise. I want to play my music for this. Do you understand?" Knowing it would be impossible, nevertheless I nodded my consent.
I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and slipped them off my feet. I had put on no underwear. I was half-erect. She touched it. "Tuck all this back between your legs and then let me see you." I did as she said and presented myself to her, very turned on by the feel of my swollen penis and balls throbbing between my tightly closed thighs. She touched again, moving her fingertips in my bush, combing, pulling. She bent to my left nipple, then my right, sucking, pulling. I held my arms behind my back and let her do it. It was exquisite torture. I let myself be lost in the dark, sexy transformation that Elizabeth was taking me through.
Then there was music – lazy summer jazz, with lots of alto sax – and electric clippers began to hum. "Spread your legs, Baby." Knowing this routine, I slid my feet apart. The cool surface of the clippers touched the front of my thigh, and my shaving began. In very quick order, all the hair on my legs was reduced to a fine, short stubble, which, I knew, would be soon removed with a razor. "Turn around and bend over now." She finished my legs. "I need you to kneel on the bench for me," she said, and I assumed the familiar ass-in-the-air position. I heard the water running again, and soon I felt the shaving brush covering my left thigh with soap, followed by the sure strokes of a disposable razor. With amazing quickness, my legs and bottom were shaved smooth. "On your back now. And hold your knees apart, back against your chest." Again, the clippers took care of Step 1, followed by the soapy brush. Elizabeth held my genitals while she expertly shaved my perineum and scrotum; she left me totally smooth and hairless, except for my dark brown bush, which she only lightly trimmed.
Her final touch was to rub some light after-shave cream into every inch of my just- shaved skin, leaving me tingling and hot. My penis stirred, imagining the feel of nylon encasing my smooth legs and slick panties tight across my bottom!
But, first, there was the matter of the enema I had to take.
Elizabeth looked down on me lying there. She took off her shoes & socks and removed her jeans, which left her in white bikini panties and the t-shirt. I loved her long legs and her small, excitable breasts, which showed her clear arousal now. Under her gaze, I felt my hips starting to move across the delight of the rubber sheet.
"Roll over on your side, Sweetie."
I rolled, facing away from her. Before I knew what was happening, she reached between my legs and took my genitals in her hand and pulled them roughly back, pushing them into the crack of my bottom. Turning me quickly back over onto my back, she straddled my closed legs at the knees and looked down on me. Again, she ran her fingers through my pubic hair, smiling with approval. I let my own gaze go to her mound, where her parted thighs caused small openings along the elastic of her panty legs, giving me a glimpse of her abundant bush. The wetness of her vulva was clearly evident.
She leaned forward. Her hand turned my head to the side, and her open mouth came to my ear, where she flicked her tongue between whispers: "How do you want to take this, my Darling? ... it's quite a lot of water, very warm water ... do you want to stay on your back or do you want me to turn you over?"
I shivered in anticipation and confusion.
"Hmmmm, should I take that as a Yes for turning you over, Baby? ... and a Yes for a spanking, too? ... I think so ... oh, yes,” she teased. “I think you're asking for your spanking now, too, aren't you?"
With that, she came off me and rolled me leftward onto my belly. I immediately felt (and smelled) baby oil being poured across my butt and my genitals, which were still bunched in the back. Then Elizabeth's hands were spreading the slippery oil all over my bottom and the back of my thighs, kneading, massaging and ... without warning, spanking me! ... hard, loud slaps with the flat of her hand, all over my butt cheeks and down my thighs. She spanked me in earnest, stinging blows, taking no care to avoid hitting my balls or my penis and sending sharp arrows of pain throughout my whole pelvis. I pushed my hips into the rubber sheet, hunching and squirming, as she spanked.
Then, involuntarily, I lifted my hips, coming up onto my knees and elbows, which afforded some protection for my aching balls, but brought no relief from the rain of her blows. I felt a pink erotic heat rising all across my bottom. I was close to the dark, true need I had hidden there in my ass, that only Elizabeth fully knew, as she continued the perfectly placed slaps.
Suddenly, having taken me to the verge of tears, the spanking ended.
Then there were cool kisses all over the heat. And more oil, spread by her perfect fingers, which also began to circle around my anus and gently probe the opening. I felt the tip of the squeeze bottle there and a small spurt of oil going inside, followed immediately by Elizabeth's finger, deeply inserted and then withdrawn, only to be replaced, slowly, with two oily fingers. As she slowly finger-fucked my bottom, she rested her head on the small of my back and whispered darkly:
"Thank you, Robert, for letting me do that. I don't know why, really, but I need to spank you before I ... you know ... sodomize you." The word – sodomize -- startled and thrilled me! “I hope I didn't hurt you too much, Baby." But I was too immersed in the juicy sounds of her long fingers moving in and out of my bottom to make any response.
Very smoothly then, her fingers withdrew and were immediately replaced by the large douche nozzle. The familiar (and so erotic!) 'click' released a sudden, strong fountain of very warm water against the walls of my rectum, producing a flood of pleasure that I had loved since my childhood. It was an absolutely unique and unmatched sensation. She moved the fat, spraying nozzle in and out, in three-to-four-inch strokes, making me groan in the spreading warmth of the enema. The water pushed on past my rectum, coursing through the sigmoid flexure and flooding my empty colon.
Dear God, it felt good! I had taken this three-quart bag once before, but only with great difficulty and with many stops and starts. There would be no stopping today, and I knew I would soon be in severe discomfort. But I could stop this. I could say, "enough!" at any time, and the unbearable pressure and cramping pain, the ever-present threat of humiliating embarrassment would come to an end.
I did not stop it, though. And the hot flow continued to fill me towards the limit, a capacity I knew I would willingly disregard for the sake of this intense sexual feeling. I could not stop it. I was out of control. I was sweating profusely and beginning to feel slightly sick. I knew to pant ... short, shallow breaths. I was thirsty beyond description. My head was light, and I played games with the dizziness that threatened to collapse me one minute and fly me the next. All the while, waves of hard cramps pained and pleased me right to the center of myself, my body and my brain.
I became aware of Elizabeth again, holding the nozzle all the way in, stroking my spine, circling my back, crooning into my tailbone, "almost there, Baby, almost there." Her free hand now came under, to my belly, which she rubbed … to my stiffening penis and tender balls in their smooth sack, which she rubbed … and up to my “breasts,” which she rubbed, and then squeezed and then pinched, hard, my nipples, all bitten and raw, until my mind left behind the searing chaos in my gut and found the words at last – the grunted, helpless words: "fuck me ... fuck me so ... let me ... ohhhhhhh, let it, let it, let me, please ...."
Words that trailed off into
She pulled me up and was on her knees in front of me. She knelt upright on the dressing bench, eye to eye, mouth in mouth, perspiring with me now. Her left arm was around my neck, the hand clutching my sweat-wet hair. Her right hand worked between our groins, sliding up and down my now-fully-erect penis, grinding her knuckles into my balls. I strained to hold the still-warm quarts of water and all that was about to evacuate my heaving colon, carried in that flood. I strained to let go my orgasm in Elizabeth's strong, soft hand and give her the ejaculation now quivering my hips uncontrolably.
"Give it to me, Baby." She was insistent and seductive: "yes. yes. yes. yes. yes ..." -- in exact time with her cradling, squeezing hand between my legs -- "give. me. your. cum. now ..." -- I met her every oil-greasy reach with a fierce thrust into her fingers -- "do it in my hand, Honey ... yes. oh, yes. it's here now. let it come out, Baby, let it come out for me."
Her left hand departed the back of my head and trailed quickly down my spine, until it reached the enema nozzle & hose, protruding out of my anus. Her face came against my smooth-shaven chest. I dropped my chin and took a mouthful of the brushy, short hair on her head, freshly shampooed, but wet from these exertions; I held on tight with my teeth.
With a slow, wormy motion, she withdrew the thick nozzle from me, just as I felt the first dribble of hot water escape through my anus and run down the inside of my thigh. With the smallest push against me, she let me know that I should just sit back onto the full- sized, old-fashioned, white enamel bedpan that she had somehow positioned underneath my bottom. I settled against the cool metal in blessed relief, and my opening let gush a torrent of enema unlike any I had ever known. I roiled and grunted like an animal in rut, looking Elizabeth straight into her gray-green eyes. She was biting her lower lip, her nostrils flared with power
In simultaneous release, my penis jerked in her grasping hand and ejaculated wildly ... one ... two ... three great spurts that splashed against her palm ... that fell across the visible veins in her slender, pale wrist … that tangled wetly in her long fingers, covering much of the opal ring her mother had bequeathed her in a last, sorrowful Spring.
There were no words then.
Only the working of her mouth, collecting my semen from her hand and her wrist, her fingers. She pulled off the opal ring, dripping semen, and put it to my mouth. I opened and took it in. I sucked it clean against my teeth, while Elizabeth savored her fingers one at a time.
There were no words.
None to cover the continued forceful, growl and spray of the enema leaving my body. Nor any focused thoughts at all ... only breathing, only my eyes closing in exhausted bliss and recovery, only my eyes opening to this woman who was making ready to fuck me in the afternoon.
This Elizabeth of my wonder and my need. I was utterly surrendered to her.
After a moment, she reached across my shoulder to a shelf, from which she took a lipstick and a bottle of perfume. Very matter-of-factly and with a wry almost-curiosity, she opened the perfume and touched the fragrance of it to several places on my hot, flushed face. She opened the lipstick and quickly put some on my mouth, taking not much care to be precise. I recognized the perfume as the one she wore on our fourth date, twenty years ago, the night we both knew -- but did not say -- that we would go to bed together for the first time. The lipstick was the only one she ever wore -- and that, rarely – a modest red, the fancy of a young woman.
She pulled her t-shirt, now soaked through, over her head and off, tossing it on the floor. Her naked breasts, her hardened nipples, started, even then, to stir another arousal in my groin. With a shy, lusty smile she took my face in her hands and came to my crudely painted mouth, all wet and greedy and intent on satisfying herself, at last.
It can only be said that she ate the kisses from my lips (and I, from hers) … that she nearly fainted me with her slither-salty tongue … that we smeared the red around our mouths and licked each other’s faces until we were left pink and wrecked-looking. All the while -- the whole of less than two minutes -- she pushed her thick, musky bush into my darker hair and spread her wet labia over my emerging penis and hunched her clitoris against anything of me that pushed back and gave her the pressure she needed to reach her climax.
Soon her throat began to make the soft familiar whimper and grunts of orgasm coming up through her body. And when she found my bruised lips again, she was humping me almost too furiously for our mouths to stay connected ... until suddenly she stopped, lifted, quivered … and flew, and flew, and flew, so high that she lost all control and pissed out the smallest thimbleful of warm urine into the spongy tangle of our pubic hair.
“Oh, me!” She cried, two short sobs, and tears. “Oh, me.”
I smiled. “Oh, yes … oh, yes …you.” She let me adore her.
We laughed and kissed, gently rocking there in the seminal swamp.
