Member Article:Another mistake Post Your Comment

rm_tazmania694u 50 M
32  Articles
Don't like So so Good Very Good Excellent

What do you think?

 

Another mistake

10/19/2005

Not until I arrived at "The Institute" did I
learn that it deals
with more than smoking. In speaking with the woman at the
front desk,
it became clear that they offered help with just about every
aspect of
life; people who wanted to become ex-smokers accounted
for only a
small portion of their clientele. I filed this away with
the idea that
if they helped with my smoking I might find at some later
date that
they would be able to help me with other things too. In a hurry,
I
completed both sides of the application and returned it
to the lady.
It was really quite brief and asked for only the basic details
about
myself, you know - name, address, date of birth, and so on.
When it
came to the part where I was to indicate what service I desired,
I
found that there were several columns of choices and I needed
only to
locate the one that said "Stop Smoking" and
enter the key letters into
the box provided.
I was in such a hurry to finish the form that I read the key
letters from the wrong column and entered them in the box
by mistake.
An hour or two later, when it was obvious that there
had been a
serious misunderstanding, I was in no position or mood
to object.
Presenting the completed form to the receptionist, I was
puzzled by
her reaction as she checked each piece of information.
Finished, she
looked up and indicated that the service I requested was
quite
expensive.
"I'll pay whatever it costs, " I assured
her, but found myself a
little self-conscious. She was obviously appraising
my body! Although
I have no reason to be ashamed of my appearance (I have been
told that
I'm very attractive), I could feel the blood rising
in my cheeks. She
explained that I was one of the few `normal looking'
people to request
this particular service, and I felt relieved at least to
know why she
was looking at me that way. I could not understand what might
be
`normal' or otherwise for a person with a smoking problem,
but elected
not to pursue the issue.
I was shocked when she told me that the fee would be a thousand
dollars, but determined to go for it -- I could always press
for a
refund if I failed to quit. Besides, when she explained
that the
service consisted of four-hour sessions on Mondays,
Wednesdays, and
Thursdays for six weeks it seemed as if I would be
getting quite a lot
of attention for my money. I paid for the service with my
Visa card
and the lady asked my to please have a seat in the waiting
room ...
that I could begin my therapy shortly since it was a Monday.
While in the waiting room I fetched a cigarette from my purse
and
lit it out of habit before realizing what I had done. Quickly
snuffing
it out in the ash tray, I looked around sheepishly to see
if any of
the other people in the room had seen what I did and immediately
felt
stupid since they could have no idea why I was here.
After a few minutes a very pretty blonde haired girl appeared
and
called my name.
"Miss French, would you come with me please?"
I could manage only a nod as I stood, looking at the others
apologetically for being called before them but they didn't
seem at
all upset. I followed silently behind the girl as she led
me through a
doorway into a long gleaming corridor.
When the door to the waiting room had closed behind us she
turned
to me and explained that on this first visit a physical examination
and preparation was needed before my session could begin.
I told her
that I understood and stepped through the first door on
the right as
she held it open for me.
The nondescript office held a large shiny desk with a chair
behind
it and another comfortable looking chair in front for the
visitor.
Except for a few small paintings on the walls the room was
bare. I
walked to the chair and sat down as the girl seated herself
behind the
desk. I noticed a manila file folder on the desk before her
and
managed to read my own name on the tab along the edge.
"Miss French, my name is Carol McGee, " she
began while opening the
folder. She welcomed me to "The Institute"
and thanked me for placing
my trust in them. She sounded as though she had repeated
the same
words countless, but she looked so young that she could
not have been
with the company for very long. Her eyes were directed downward
to my
file and I was glad for the chance to stare at her unobserved.
Very
pretty and neatly dressed, she looked no more than eighteen.
When she
looked up she smiled warmly, putting me quite at ease.
Opening a drawer at her left, she brought out a small glass
bottle
and a plastic cup sealed in clear cellophane. Unwrapping
the cup, she
explained that the bottle contained a medication that
would facilitate
the efforts of my therapists. Twisting the cap, she poured
the
contents into the cup and set it on the desk in front of me.
Picking
it up, I gave in to the urge to sniff. We all have memories
of being
forced to swallow foul tasting medicine, but I was pleasantly
surprised to find that it smelled like Hawaiian Punch even
though it
was totally colorless. My eyes on hers, I took a small sip.
Her smile
and nod reassured me. I tasted, found it delicious and quickly
drank
it all. Retrieving the empty cup from my hand, she dropped
it and the
bottle quietly into a small waste receptacle next to the
desk.
She explained that my session would begin in a few minutes
and we
spent the time chatting about the weather and the price
of clothes. I
felt myself relaxing as we took turns speaking. I was more
at ease
with her than I'd ever been with a new acquaintance,
and was a little
disappointed when the door opened. I'd have to go with
someone else
now, and I'd been enjoying my visit with Carol.
Feeling sad, I accepted Carol's outstretched hand
as we exchanged
smiles, but was unable to voice my fears. Oh, I could speak
well
enough -- I thanked her and told her how much I had enjoyed
our
visit -- but I found that I could not say anything negative.
I turned
and smiled at the new face in the doorway, walking eagerly
to meet my
guide even though I really didn't want to leave Carol
McGee.
Two doors down the hall was a small room where I was
invited to
have a seat. Suddenly alone, I was a little puzzled with
being
shuffled about like this. Except for the door I had just
come through,
there was only one other small door here, unmarked. Next
to the door
was a window with a flat counter under it but I could see no
one in
the other room. I was tempted to go to the window and look
into the
area beyond but something held me back. I began to feel uncomfortable
as I sat there - my discomfort stemming from the fact that
I had to go
to the bathroom. The sense of urgency was growing rapidly
and my
bowels were churning. There were no cramps or pain but I
knew that I
must find a bathroom quickly! Standing up, I walked to the
window and
looked through but was disappointed to find the small room
on the
other side empty. In my desperation I decided to check the
door next
to the window.
As I opened the door I heard the sound of bells jingling beyond
the
window but was in too great a panic by then to pay them any
notice. I
was never so happy to see a simple white toilet! Quickly
stepping
inside and pushing the door shut, I barely managed to throw
the back
of my skirt up, tear my panties down, and plop onto the seat
before
losing control. I broke out in a cold sweat as my bowels erupted
into
the bowl with such force that the water splashed up onto
my buttocks.
I lowered my forehead onto my knees because I felt faint
as my insides
burst forth and a seemingly endless stream cascaded into
the water
under me. Although I was concerned that I had suddenly taken
sick, I
was more upset by the fact that anyone outside could surely
hear the
commotion! You can imagine the disgusting sound that an
event like
that causes.
Almost as suddenly as it started, the terrible need died
and I was
able to sit up straight and take some deep breaths. My face
and neck
were damp with sweat and I felt a little light-headed but
was relieved
that what ever kind of attack I'd suffered seemed to
have vanished.
Using large handsful of toilet tissue dampened in the sink
I washed my
buttocks and the backs of my thighs where the filthy water
had
splashed up onto me. I had to flush the toilet several times
before
all traces were removed from the bowl. I was grateful for
the exhaust
fan in the ceiling which seemed to have pulled the smell
away. Finally
at the sink I used my cupped hands to apply cool water to my
face to
freshen myself. By the time I had dried myself I was feeling
fine
again.
I was dismayed as I opened the waiting room door to find two
faces
watching me! A dark haired woman at the window asked if I
were feeling
better now (to which I could only manage a small nod - I was
so
embarrassed) and the woman who escorted me here a few minutes
earlier
had returned. The woman behind the window smiled and told
me not to be
embarrassed by what had happened. She explained that it
was the drink
Miss McGee had given me, and that it had done what it was intended
to
do. I was about to ask her why such a thing should be necessary
when
she said that the escort would take me back to Miss McGee's
office
where my questions would be answered.
So I turned silently to the other woman and followed her
back to
Carol's office. When I entered, Carol motioned with
her hand for me to
be seated. I had an urge to tell Miss McGee just how upset
I was about
what had been done, but when my eyes met hers I found that
I could
not. Without a word, this young woman had stifled my anger!
In fact,
the whole incident began to seem too trivial to mention
and I sat down
in the big soft chair.
I listened quietly as she began speaking, her eyes holding
my own.
She explained that the laxative was necessary because
one of the
primary taboos (that of anal intercourse) could only be
dealt with
properly if the rectum and large intestine were empty.
You could have
knocked me over with a feather! I don't know if my shock
was apparent
but I was unable to find the words I needed to tell her that
a mistake
had been made. She directed my attention to the single sheet
of paper
before her on the desk and turned it toward me as I looked
down. The
large letters "S-T" at the top and the words
"Sexual Taboos" below
them seemed to jump off the paper at me. Those were the key
letters I
had used on the application form! Scanning the list of topics
on the
paper, some of them struck me with almost physical force.
Masturbation
techniques, solitary and mutual... masochism... bondage...
fellatio...
cunnilingus... lesbianism... anal intercourse! The
list was long and I
looked back up as she continued to speak.
She explained that to ensure my co-operation the laxative
was
supplemented with a harmless but powerful mind-control
drug that would
help me overcome my inhibitions. At the outset, she continued,
the
drug would manifest itself in the form of an inability to
resist the
instructions of the therapists or to voice any objections.
After
several sessions however, I would find that I no longer
would have any
serious objections or reservations and that the therapy
would progress
smoothly for all concerned. I cannot begin to describe
my feeling of
helplessness as the terrible truth was revealed. I assured
Miss McGee
that I understood the need for such a measure and that I was
quite
anxious to begin. It was my own voice, but those were not
the words I
wanted to say! Nor did my expression of eager excitement
reflect my
true feelings at the time!
As I listened to Carol McGee's brief run-down of the
therapy I had
signed up for I found myself beginning to admire her poise
and self-
confidence. Although she was obviously younger than I,
she projected
the experience of a much older person. As if sensing my thoughts
(a
skill I was later to learn that was shared by all the therapists
I
would meet), she explained that she too had been in my position
only a
few years earlier. It seems that she had been a star pupil
and had
been offered a position on the permanent staff at the institute.
She
thoroughly enjoyed her job now because, in addition to
her present
capacity, she also served as a therapist. We would definitely
meet
again under much different circumstances.
At that moment I made the first positive step toward coming
to
grips with my situation. I believed what Carol had told
me about the
effects of the drug because I did want to object, to explain
that a
terrible mistake had been made, but could not! I determined
to make
the best of it, though, and the knowledge that I would see
her later
under what could only be some physically intimate conditions
sent a
ripple of excitement through me. Again, I felt that she
was aware of
my thoughts because she smiled warmly and assured me that
I would not
regret my decision. Her hand disappeared beneath the desk
top and I
heard a buzzing sound somewhere in the distance. Carol
explained that
it would be necessary for me to have a physical examination,
and that
my escort would return to take me to the lab. She said that
all
applicants are thoroughly examined as a means of controlling
the
possible spread of disease. The entire staff was also examined
weekly.
<br>
Before I continue I should explain a few things about myself.
I am
twenty-three years old and quite good looking.
Not out of conceit or
any kind of delusions do I make that statement, but because
it has
been told to me so many times. I am tall (5-11) with long blonde
hair
and green eyes. I have dimples in my cheeks that show when
I smile and
make some people think I'm cute, although I must admit
that I hated
them for a long time. My breasts are a little larger than
average and,
as for the rest of my body, I have just enough fat in all the
right
places. Because of the attributes I've just described,
I have had my
fair share of attention and consider myself lucky. Uncounted
men and
boys (and even a few girls) have made passes at me and I'll
admit that
I've taken advantage of a few of them. I don't want
to give you the
impression that I've been easy or promiscuous, but
I've had what I
guess to be a normal sex life. Because of my upbringing,
I've had
trying moments - there are some things that I feel are dirty
or
degrading and I've had to "draw the line"
on many occasions when I
felt that I didn't want to do something that I would
be ashamed of.
Much of this passed through my mind in the minute or two
that I
waited for my escort to arrive, and I felt more than a little
apprehensive. It was clear that I would be introduced to
a number of
activities that I had always refused; and a few that I'd
never even
contemplated!
<br>
I was taken several doors down the hall to a large room full
of
white porcelain and stainless steel. The clinical appearance
put me on
the defensive right away even though I eagerly followed
where I was
led. Actually, I was terrified! Two women in nurse's
uniforms assured
me that there was nothing to fear. Their friendly approach
made me
feel better and by the time the introductions were over
my butterflies
were all but gone. I learned that their names were Shelly
and Alicia,
both of whom had been employed there for about a year. They
were both
quite attractive and had such friendly and easy-going
manners that I
didn't hesitate when they suggested that I "get
out of those clothes
so we can get started." As I took my blouse and skirt
off, Shelly hung
them neatly on a hanger and Alicia folded my panties and
bra and set
them on a small shelf above the clothes rod.
Shelly and Alicia led me to a large round white bathtub and
helped
me over the edge into the wonderfully warm water. The tub
was deep and
the water came up to my neck. Alicia turned a valve and the
water
began swirling. I was almost floating and had to hold onto
the edge to
maintain my position. They explained that the water had
bath oil in it
to clean and soften my skin. I told them that it felt heavenly
and
that I could understand why hot tubs and spas were becoming
so
popular. Although I didn't mention it to them, I was
thankful for the
hot scented water; I still felt dirty after my incident
in the
bathroom. After a few minutes Shelly turned the whirlpool
off. Alicia
told me they knew I'd like to stay lot longer, but they
needed to
begin my examination. They helped me over the edge and dried
me with
large soft towels. Alicia commented that I was a "natural
blonde" as
she gently patted me dry and playfully fingered the kinky
hair of my
bush. I know I was blushing, but since I couldn't think
of anything to
say, I remained silent as they led me to a low vinyl covered
cot and
helped me to lie down.
After a little maneuvering, they positioned me as they
wanted me.
The cot had pelvic exam stirrups at one end and they moved
me toward
them until my buttocks rested on the very end of the cot.
Shelly set
my heels in the stirrups and told me to relax and let my knees
fall
naturally out to the sides. She sat on a low stool and scooted
up
close between my thighs. I wanted to at least appear relaxed,
so I lay
my head back and closed my eyes -- yet I felt so utterly vulnerable
in
my "wide open" position that my imagination
began working overtime;
the butterflies returned in force. Shelly and Alicia were
talking back
and forth, not exactly whispering, but so softly that I
could not make
out what they were saying. I heard an occasional word or
two:
"Nice.... I'll get it.... mmmm-hmmm...."
The sound of an aerosol spray and a cool wetness in my crotch
brought my "relaxed" act to a quick end. I lifted
my head to see what
was happening. Shelly was spraying something onto my pubic
hair and
using her free hand to gently massage it in. Alicia came
to my side to
explain: my pubic hair would have to be removed because
it had a
tendency to "get in the way" sometimes. Naturally,
I nodded in
agreement and told her that I understood, even though I
did not
understand at all. But Shelly's fingers felt good
as she rubbed the
liquid into my skin. She paid particular attention to the
delicate
outer lips of my cunt and the small patch between my vagina
and anus.
When she swirled her fingers around the rim of my anus and
added
another quick burst from the spray can, it was all I could
do to
remain still.
Shelly rose from her stool and went to the sink to wash her
hands.
Still at my side, Alicia explained that they would "let
it work" for a
few minutes and told me to just relax again. I let my head
sink back
onto the cot and tried to sort out my thoughts. Some women
did shave
themselves down there but it seemed so kinky that I had never
considered it. I wondered what she meant about it getting
in the way
and whether I'd look funny with no hair there.....
After a short time, I heard Shelly say something about "that
should
be long enough" and opened my eyes as see sat back down
on the little
stool. She had several small white towels and placed all
but one on my
stomach. Her face moved closer to my pubic area now as she
caught a
few strands of hair near the upper edge of my bush and pulled
gently.
I watched a little patch of my skin pull upward with the hair
and felt
a slight twinge as the roots suddenly let go. She held them
up for me
to see and smiled.
"Simple, " she said lightly, and wiped them
onto the towel in her
other hand.
The hair came out more and more easily as she worked back
and forth
across the blonde triangle, systematically pulling them
out in little
patches. I felt absolutely no pain, just a gentle tugging.
When the
large patch above my vulva was bare, she began on the finer
hairs
covering the outer lips and the area around my anus. After
fifteen
minutes or so, she sat up and folded the towel neatly around
the pile
of hair, and dropped the package into a small waste can.
Alicia had
prepared a small pan of warm soapy water and held it while
Shelly
dipped a the clean towel into it. Shelly washed my lower
body and
inner thighs and finally used the last towel to pat me dry.
After a
close inspection of her handiwork, and apparently satisfied,
Shelly
sat up slowly and spoke a single word.
"Beautiful, " she said with a smile, and Alicia
nodded in agreement.
As they helped me to sit up and finally to stand I was conscious
of
a cool sensation down there. It'd take some time to
get used to the
absence of hair on my pubic mound, but it was kind of refreshing
and
certainly different.
Alicia led me to a scale and asked me to step up on it. It a
standard doctor's-office model with the gadget that
slides up and down
to measure your height while the balance arm shows your
weight. She
read off the numbers and Shelly wrote the information onto
a form.
During the next few minutes Alicia measured various parts
of my
body while Shelly silently took it all down. Oh, she measured
all of
the normal things -- bust, waist, hips, neck, arm length,
etc. But
also some that I found a little strange: the distance around
my upper
thighs, knees, calves, upper arms, elbows and wrists;
the length of
each finger; the distance from my crotch to my knees, from
collar bone
to nipples, from nipples to navel, and the diameter of my
areolae.
Then Alicia set me down at the table across from Shelly and
explained that they needed to check my gag reflex. From
a drawer on
her side of the table, Shelly fetched a long cylindrical
object a foot
long and a little fatter than my thumb. Fine circumferential
lines
graduated the length in inches and fractions.
I leaned toward Shelly and made an "O" with my
mouth as she placed
the end of the cylinder between my lips. Alicia watched
closely from
my right side as Shelly slowly slid the tube into my mouth.
She told
me to open my throat as well as I could, and I tried as the end
of the
tube touched the back of my throat. I was somewhat surprised
at my own
feeling of calm at this point and it was not until the tube
had passed
what felt like an inch or so into my throat that my body revolted.
My
stomach muscles clenched up tightly and I heard the wretched
sound of
myself gagging on the tube.
"Five and a quarter, " said Alicia.
Shelly withdrew the tube, handed
me a tissue to wipe my mouth and entered the figures on the
form.
"early done, now, " she said and led me to the
examination table
for the final measurements. An ordinary looking table,
waist high and
covered with softly padded vinyl. A small stool made it
easy for me to
climb up as Alicia held my arm to help me. They hadn't
specified
whether I should be prone or supine, so I chose to lie face-up.
Shelly
came to the table still holding the graduated tube and slid
a hand
under my leg just above the knee. She lifted as Alicia did
the same on
the other side and I cooperated, drawing my knees up toward
my chest.
Drawing a tube of K-Y jelly from the pocket of her lab coat
(I
could see the label clearly) Shelly explained that she
would now
measure the depth of my vagina. She squeezed a generous
blob into the
palm of her hand and thoroughly coated the tube.
"Now relax, dear." Shelly gently spread the
outer lips of my cunt
and inserted the rounded end of the tube. It was pleasantly
warm, and
my eyes closed as I mentally followed it progress. There
was a sharp
intake of breath (mine?) when it reached my cervix. Withdrawing
the
probe, she told me to lower my legs.
"Six and three-quarters, "
she said, and I turned my head to watch
Alicia enter the numbers on the form. It came as no surprise
when
Shelly asked me to "please roll over." I complied
with a strange
excitement, anxious to learn what the next measurement
would be! I
turned my face to the side, resting my cheek on the soft vinyl
as I
felt Shelly's hand on my right buttock. The end of the
tube pressed
gently at the center of my anus. It slipped smoothly in and
I realized
that I was holding my breath. It moved deeper into my rectum
and I
forced myself to exhale, listening carefully as Shelly
began to speak.
"The last section of your large intestine is relatively
straight, "
she said, "but several inches from the anus it makes
an abrupt turn to
one side or the other. We need to record the distance to that
first
"corner, " and which way it turns."
The blunt end of the tube began to push against the obstruction
and
I found my voice long enough to say that she had reached the
corner. I
heard her say "five inches even, "
but was a little confused when I
felt the tube being withdrawn. Shelly explained that to
learn the
direction, she would need to carefully push beyond the
corner and that
the tube would "straighten it out, " allowing
deeper penetration. She
could sometimes sense the direction by the feel of the tube
but that I
would be able to tell her for certain. She also pointed out
that she
would inject more lubricant into my rectum just to be on
the safe
side. I felt the coolness of the threaded end of the K-Y tube
as she
slipped it a fraction of an inch into me. It seemed as though
she
squeezed the entire contents of the tube into my rectum
and it was
strangely pleasant. I heard the empty container drop into
the waste
can and a moment later felt the familiar presence of the
"measuring
tube" as she re-inserted it. When the end reached
the "corner, " I
could feel her guiding it experimentally from side to side
while
exerting just a little pressure on it. I could tell immediately
that
the turn was a left turn and told her so. My voice sounded
husky and
strange to my ears.
What happened next is difficult to explain -- I can only
say that,
as Shelly guided the tube to the left while pushing gently,
I felt my
bowel shift as the end of the tube did exactly what she'd
said it
would do. It straightened the corner and I felt the tube
begin to move
deeper into me. It was beyond doubt the most bizarre thing
I had ever
experienced. The end of the tube felt nearly even with my
belly button
when Shelly said "eleven plus" and slowly withdrew
the tube. It made a
quiet sucking sound as the end slipped out and I heard the
tube drop
into the waste can. Shelly began kneading the soft flesh
of my
buttocks with both hands and it was only then that I became
aware that
my entire lower body had been trembling.
"That's the end of the exam, Monica." Alicia
had stood by me
throughout the final measurement. "Thanks for being
so cooperative, "
she said, as though I'd had a choice in the matter.
They helped me roll over, swinging my legs over the edge
of the
table as I sat up, and eased me down on the floor. I wondered
why they
treated me as though I were helpless. But when my feet touched
the
floor I was glad they were holding me. My legs felt like rubber!
Shelly laughed lightly and said that my reaction was completely
normal
-- the rectal probe has that effect on nearly everyone.
They helped me
across the room to a toilet. It seemed strange to have a toilet
right
out in this big open room and I hadn't noticed it before.
Alicia
tactfully explained that I might want to "get rid
of all that K-Y, "
and I realized that I did indeed have the urge. Bearing down
firmly I
was able to expel most of the gooey mess, only a little embarrassed
with them watching me. Before handing me some tissue to
wipe with
though, Alicia asked that I stand up so she could check in
the bowl. I
did so and was told that everything "looked fine".
I carefully wiped
myself and dropped the tissues into the bowl. Alicia flushed
it.
We went to the side of the room where my clothes were hanging
and I
dressed. It felt really strange when the gusset of my panties
touched
the bare skin of my pubic mound. It's surprising how
much a thin
covering of hair diminishes your sense of feeling.
The escort had appeared by the time I finished dressing,
and I told
Shelly and Alicia that I hoped to see them again. They smiled
and
Alicia assured me that I would indeed meet them again in
future
sessions. I was escorted to the lobby and the receptionist
gave me an
appointment card listing my next session on Wednesday.
There would be
no need for a reminder; I was anxious to return!
<br>
<br>
Monica - Part II
<br>
<br>
When I arrived at The Institute on Wednesday I was about
a half
hour early. I presented my appointment card to the receptionist
and
she smiled as an expression of recognition registered
on her face. She
placed my card in a small file box and asked me to have a seat
in the
waiting room. Unlike Monday, the room was empty. Scarcely
had my rump
settled in one of the over-stuffed chairs when the receptionist
appeared in the doorway.
"Miss French, " she whispered as if about to
share a secret with me.
"Would you please come back to the desk for a moment?"
I stood and was walking toward her when she turned and hurried
off.
In the lobby she apologized for having to call me back, explaining
that she hadn't noticed the message attached to my
file. The note
instructed her to administer my medication when I arrived.
When she fetched the bottle and cup from her file cabinet,
I saw
that the drawer contained a large number of bottles, although
I
couldn't tell if they were all the same. Opening the
bottle, she
poured the contents into the cup and slid it across the counter
toward
me. She watched me drink it all and held out her hand for the
empty.
"Thank you so much, " she said. "Now you
can go back in and make
yourself comfortable until your escort calls for you."
I had taken only a few steps when I heard her exaggerated
whisper.
"Oh, Miss French, " she said. "The door
on the far side of the waiting
area leads to the rest room in case you should need to...."
Her voice
trailed off as she searched for the right words. She looked
grateful
when I smiled and thanked her for telling me.
I really did appreciate the information and chose a seat
close to
the door she had mentioned. I found it strange that the waiting
area
had no magazines or anything for people to pass the time
with. The
only entertainment was soft "elevator music"
coming from I don't know
where. I was trying to guess what might be in store for me
but I
hadn't a clue. Scenes from Monday replayed in my mind.
The strange
intimacies still excited me. With closed eyes I felt Shelly's
soft
hands on my buttocks and recalled with vivid clarity what
she had done
with the long tube. The fact that she and Alicia had acted
with more
than professional competence in carrying out their tasks
did nothing
to diminish the experience.
The back of my mind was waiting for the onset of the cramps
that I
knew would be coming, and there wasn't long to wait.
Whatever that
stuff was, it worked fast! Rather than wait for the panic
stage, I
rose and walked casually to the door. I was pleasantly surprised
to
find a large and well equipped bathroom. Besides the bare
necessities,
this room had a large counter under a mirror that covered
a full wall.
The sink was located in the center of the counter instead
of simply
hung on the wall. Next to the commode was a device I had read
about
but never actually seen. I recognized it immediately as
a bidet!
Hiking my skirt, I pulled my panties down and sat on the toilet
just as the first honest-to-goodness cramp arrived. I
let it run it's
course and allowed it to force a small amount of foul smelling
matter
into the bowl. It wasn't violent like the other time;
there was very
little splashing and I was grateful. For the next ten minutes
or so I
allowed my body to be guided by the chemical I had drunk and
after
passing an equal mix of runny stool and gas I gradually returned
to
normal.
Using a few tissues, I quickly wiped my bottom and flushed
the
toilet. With a feeling of excitement, I moved onto the bidet
and
looked around for the handle or knob or whatever you turn
it on with.
I found a large lever on the left side, down by the floor,
that looked
as though it should be operated with the foot. Pushing down
slowly
with my heel I was rewarded by a fountain of warm water erupting
under
me. It felt marvelous! I used both hands between my thighs
to help
splash the water where it would do the most good. I was like
a little
girl with a new toy as the water gently washed away the remnants
of my
bowel movement.
When I was completely clean down there I withdrew my hands
and
brought my thighs together tightly in an attempt to seal
off the
opening. There is no separate seat on a bidet; you sit directly
on the
porcelain. Confident that I had closed the opening, I pushed
down
harder with my heel and received the full cascading force
of the warm
geyser. I felt as if I could stay there all day.
But a part of me yearned to see what new things I'd do
today, and
from the shelf next to the bidet I took a small white towel
and dried
my crotch and buttocks. Dropping the towel into a basket
below the
shelf, I stood up and used another to dry my thighs before
pulling my
panties back up. When I walked back out into the waiting
room I felt
wonderful and completely refreshed!
I had no just sat down and gotten comfortable when a woman
I
remembered as my escort on Monday walked into the room.
"Miss French, " she said softly. "We're
ready for you now. If you'd
like to come with me?"
I returned her smile and told her that I was ready.
As we walked out into the hall I looked at my watch and saw
that it
was still a few minutes before my actual appointment was
scheduled. It
seemed strange that even though I'd arrived early
I did not have to
sit and wait. I reasoned that they would normally have a
delay built
into the schedule to give the laxative time to take effect.
What I was
unaware of then, and indeed did not learn until several
sessions
later, was that as soon as I had walked through the door,
early or
not, all of the necessary people knew I was there and began
preparing
for my session. In fact, my activities were being recorded
on video
tape by means of hidden cameras! Well, more about that later.
This time we walked all the way to the end of the long hallway
and
swung into another. My escort led me to a door some distance
down the
hall and knocked softly a few times. When the door opened,
I was
greeted by a very pretty young woman.
"Good morning, Monica, " she said softly.
"Won't you come in?"
At the sound of her voice I knew who she was, though she had
looked
only vaguely familiar at first glance. It was Carol McGee!
My escort
left and I stepped inside the room as Carol moved aside for
me.
Instead of the uniform she had worn on Monday, Carol was
dressed in
a full-length gown. It was actually a kimono, the kind of
thing you
see Japanese women wearing in movies, and it was lavishly
embroidered
with scenes of trees and dragons.
Carol closed the door, turned and extended her hand with
a friendly
smile. I took the hand and marveled at the softness of her
skin. It
was really more than just a friendly handshake.... she
drew me close
to her and, before I knew it, we embraced. Carol acted so
naturally
that I felt no un ease. Actually, I was relieved to be with
someone I
knew because I had been a little nervous. We stepped apart
and stood
looking at each other. Her smile was genuine and my hesitation
melted.
She told me that she had prepared a warm bath and suggested
that it
might help me relax. I told her that it sounded great and
followed her
into the living room of a gracious apartment. It was beautifully
furnished, decorated in such a way that I could believe
it a model
from Better Homes & Gardens! We entered a short hallway
with a room on
either side. I caught a glimpse of the bedroom as we turned
the
opposite way. The few details I was able to see were as impressive
as
the living room had been.
The bathroom was huge! The focus was a red enamelled tub
in the
center, large enough for a party! Looking around the room,
I noted
that everything that would normally be white porcelain
was the same
deep red. Carol was watching my face and laughed a little
as she asked
me how I liked it. All I could manage was "Wow."
We giggled a little
over my reaction and Carol pointed out the dressing area.
"You can hang your clothes over there, Monica."
She leaned against
the rim of the tub and watched me undress.
She was watching me, but not in a way that made me nervous.
I found
that I didn't mind at all as I unbuttoned my blouse and
shrugged it
off. Pulling my skirt down, I stepped out of it and was attaching
it
to the clips on a hanger when Carol complimented me.
"You have very nice legs, " she said in a way
that would have
sounded more natural coming from a man but which made me
feel good
none-the-less.
"Thanks." I reached back with both hands to
unhook my bra. Her eyes
were glued to my chest. When I slipped the straps from my
shoulders
and tossed it onto the counter, Carol drew a deep breath.
When she
said that my breasts were beautiful I felt an immediate
flush in my
cheeks as I thanked her again. I pushed my shoes off and slid
them
against the wall under the clothes rack. Thumbs under the
waistband, I
bent over to slide my panties down. I was still not feeling
self-
conscious, much to my surprise, but was aware of her gaze
as she
watched me turn to toss the panties next to my bra.
"How are you coping with the loss of your hair, Monica?"
she asked
as I walked toward her, her eyes directed now to that part
of my body.
I told her that I'd decided that I kind of liked it; it
made me feel
cleaner. Tretching out her hand, she helped me over the
edge of the
tub into the warm scented water. She continued to hold my
hand gently
as I sank slowly down and sat on the small ledge under the
water's
surface.
"Shall I join you in the tub?" Although she framed
it as a
question, I'm certain she expected the answer I gave.
"Please, Carol. I'd like that very much."
She smiled warmly and
stood up, her eyes on mine. I pulled my gaze away from her
face and
watched her untie the wide sash around her waist. In slow
motion she
opened the front of the gown and presented her nakedness
to me.
Again the only word I could manage was "Wow"
and I spoke it as the
gown slipped from her shoulders to the floor. I had never
seen such
exquisite beauty in person before. Carol McGee could have
stepped out
of a Penthouse center-fold! She thanked me for the compliment
and
gracefully swung her leg up and over the edge of the tub to
climb in.
I watched speechless as her lower body disappeared under
the water and
she sat directly across from me. I had noticed that she too
was
without pubic hair and thought she looked perfectly natural
that way.
We sat there motionless in the water for a few moments just
looking
into each other's eyes before Carol spoke again. "I
love to just sit
in here and soak, " she said dreamily. She reached
over the edge of the
tub and turned a valve. The water began to swirl. Next came
two large
soft sponges. Leaning forward in the water, she floated
toward me and
handed one to me.
"The soap is in the tray right next to you, Monica, "
she said as
she turned and sat next to me on the ledge. "If you'll
hand it to me
I'll do your back." I readily accepted with a
smile and handed her the
bar of Ivory.
My mind was whirling! I had hoped that I would get the chance
to
feel her hands on my body but was too timid to make the first
move. I
think she knew that, and her offer to "do my back"
was one that
sounded reasonable. I let myself imagine where this might
be leading
and the possibilities excited me.
Carol began stroking gently with the sponge, and the warm
water
felt nice. She washed my back for several minutes before
rinsing it.
"Would you like to do me now?"
"Oh, yes."
Carol turned her back to me and I began soaping my sponge.
To keep
from sliding around on the slick shelf, I put my free hand
on her
shoulder to steady myself. Her skin was smooth and soft.
I was sort of
moving my hand around on her shoulder while making big soapy
circles
on her back with the sponge when I felt her hand on mine.
"Here, try it this way, " she said and pulled
my hand down from her
shoulder and under her arm. She guided my arm around her
side and
cupped my hand firmly on her breast.
"Thanks, " I said. "That's much
better." I squeezed gently and
marveled at her firmness as I circled her nipple with my
index finger.
She sighed softly and rolled her head back when I kissed
the junction
of her neck and shoulder.
Things started happening quite fast then. Oh, I don't
mean that we
moved around in the tub real fast. But it all seemed so natural
and
spontaneous that we began exploring each other's
body under pretense
of "washing." Let me just say this ... when we
finally stepped out of
the tub some time later, we were both squeaky clean! Some
areas of our
bodies had been washed and rinsed multiple times, our ministrations
bringing various giggles and sighs from the other. Our
mutual
helpfulness naturally continued through the process
of drying off as
we rubbed and patted each other with large fluffy towels.
Carol said she was feeling a little chilly, and I would have
mentioned it too but I was not able to put words to any negative
thoughts.
"I know it's warmer in the bedroom, Monica, "
she said as she pulled
the towel around her tightly and hurried toward the door.
I followed
right behind, clutching my towel as my chin jittered up
and down from
the chill.... it had felt so heavenly in the tub. She waited
for me to
enter the bedroom with her before closing the door tightly
and I
immediately started to feel warmer.
The bedroom was beautiful! It actually had a fireplace
set into the
wall on our right, flames licking up and around the glowing
logs.
Carol explained that it wasn't a real fireplace, just
a very authentic
looking unit powered by natural gas. The logs weren't
real either, but
the effect was great. A white plush rug separated the dark
green
velvet sofa from the heart, and smaller versions covered
the floor on
either side of the huge four-poster bed. Carol
pointed out that the
king-sized water bed had many individual cells so that
it didn't slosh
back and forth when you pushed on it. The bed was dark mahogany,
with
shelves and compartments in the headboard for things that
you might
want while in bed. The large dressing table had a nice big
mirror and
a wide bench seat, all of the same dark mahogany and highly
polished.
"Let's sit by the fire for a while and warm up."
I didn't need to be coaxed. Instead of sitting on the
sofa, as I
was about to do, Carol sat down on the big white rug and leaned
back
against the sofa. Catching my hand, she patted a spot on
the rug next
to her and pulled me down next to her. So we sat side by side
staring
into the fire for a while. Our knees were drawn up close in
front of
us and I could feel the warmth from the fireplace on my shins
and the
backs of my thighs. We were very close together; I felt a
bit awkward
because she wasn't saying anything or even doing anything.
Our
shoulders, hips, and upper thighs were actually touching
and I found
myself thinking about a small spot on my shoulder where
it met hers,
and how it was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I didn't
want to move
away, even an inch, but it seemed that we would be more comfortable
if
one of us would put her arm around the other. I turned my head
slowly
and examined the side of her pretty face as she continued
to stare
into the fire. I knew that she knew (does that sound right?)
I was
looking at her and after a few moments she looked at me and
smiled.
She lifted her right arm and brought it around my shoulders,
pulling
me closer to her. I gratefully returned her smile as I felt
the soft
side-swell of her breast against my own.
She asked if I were comfortable now, and I told her, with
no
influence from the drug, that I was "very comfortable."
She smiled
again and looked back toward the fire. I couldn't take
my eyes from
her, she was so pretty, and when she spoke I watched her lips
move. I
know this sounds terribly stupid, but the mood was intimate
and I felt
very close to her.
Carol told me about herself and her job at The Institute.
She had
been there for three years, the last in her present
capacity, and
enjoyed it very much. In what seemed a bold move, I reached
up to my
right shoulder and covered her hand with my own. She paused
to look at
me and smiled again.
Her primary job was to screen applicants on their first
visit, as
she had with me. She qualified that, adding that only applicants
for
one of the sexually related services required screening.
In most
cases, that single meeting was the only contact she'd
have with the
client; but her duties were flexible enough to allow more
direct
participation in the therapy if she wished. She seldom
did, however,
for most applicants fell into a category she described
simply as
"undesirable."
She turned toward me and her eyes peered into my soul. Once
in a
great while, she said, she saw someone across her desk that
she felt
compelled to become involved with. I didn't notice
her other hand
moving because I was deep in her eyes, but the soft touch
on my cheek
made me lean toward her. When I kissed her mouth, time seemed
to stand
still -- but my mind did not! I was kissing another woman
on the mouth
and my breast burned where it pressed against hers. I wondered
fleetingly if I were a lesbian, and realized that I didn't
care! I
only wanted to be with Carol McGee. I remember clearly her
hand moving
down to my breast, her tongue slipping between my lips,
the taste of
her sweetness. But I remember only vaguely her saying something
about
the bed, and it seemed so natural that we should go there.
We stood and she held my hand gently as she led me across the
short
distance to the bed. Carol turned me around and eased me
back onto the
bed, following me there as I scooted into the center. She
fit so
nicely between my thighs as I felt her weight bear down on
me. Her
mouth covered my own once again and our breasts nestled
comfortably
together. She pressed her soft mound against my crotch;
I lifted my
knees and rested my calves across her hips as if she were
a man.
Then I opened my eyes for a moment and saw us in the giant mirror
on the ceiling! The scene was so erotic that I cannot describe
my
feelings. There was Carol's beautiful back. My arms
wrapped tightly
around her and my legs clutched at her hips; I closed my eyes
once
again in an attempt to record the image in my memory.
Carol lifted her lips from mine and moved downward slowly,
the
light perspiration on our skin allowing her to slide without
rising.
Drawing my left nipple into her mouth she began sucking
rhythmically
and biting ever so softly, finally letting it go to trace
a path of
tiny kisses and nibbles across to the other. When she began
moving
down again, her hot lips seemed to burn their way down to
my navel
where her tongue probed and licked. I followed her progress
in the
mirror. My hands were in her hair now and I opened my thighs
farther
for her as I felt lips and tongue on my pubic mound. Another
series of
kisses and bites that were not at all painful.
Only once before had I experienced what Carol McGee was
about to
give me. A guy I kind of liked claimed he wanted to, but I think
it
was only because I had sucked his cock and he felt obligated.
It was a
great novelty, but he might just as well have saved his time.
I didn't
enjoy it very much. He was rough and in a hurry -- and he complained
about the hair in his mouth. I told him it felt wonderful
but that he
didn't need to do it. He didn't argue, and I'm
sure he didn't enjoy it
either. The only similarity between what he did and what
Carol did was
the basic mechanics. He licked my cunt.
What Carol did defies description. She made love to me with
her
mouth and brought me to the first of several climaxes before
she even
got to my cunt! She devoted a lot of attention to the soft
mound
covering my pubic bone and I was floating away! When she
finally moved
down into my crotch, I think she intentionally bypassed
my clitoris,
maybe choosing to leave the best for last. I couldn't
control my hips
and began involuntarily to rock my pelvis against her mouth.
When her
thumbs pulled my outer lips apart and the tip of her tongue
actually
entered the mouth of my vagina I thought I had died and gone
to
heaven! It was obvious that she really wanted to give me
pleasure, and
that really set me off. That, and the softly muffled sounds
as she
gently sucked and kissed and nibbled every part of my cunt
before
moving down and actually kissing the small ring of my anus.
I became
aware of tears on my cheeks and I wanted so badly to be able
to return
the pleasure for her.
Carol saved the best for last and when her tongue reached
the small
throbbing bud I nearly passed out from anticipation realized.
I looked
up at my reflection and watched my belly moving in and out
with my
rapid breathing. Had I not known personally what I was feeling,
I'd
have thought the expression in the mirror showed panic
or fear rather
than the intense pleasure that filled me. She was gentle
and patient,
never pushing me over the threshold into pain. I sensed
my clitoris
growing and rising between her lips, something that I had
only heard
about. I floated on a heavenly cloud and my entire existence
seemed
centered on that small organ; wave after wave of unspeakable
pleasure
emanated from it and rippled throughout my body.
I don't know how much time had passed, but suddenly
Carol's face
was close to mine and she was smiling. I could smell myself
on her
face and her lips and chin glistened with the moisture they
held. I
held her face and kissed her mouth tenderly and I told her
that I
loved her. Inside, I knew that what I meant was that I loved
what she
had done and I'm sure she knew understood. Yet when
I said that I
wanted to make love to her, I feared that she might not let
me.
With no other words I held her shoulders and slowly pushed
her over
onto her back. She moved with me and I found that I felt really
strange looking down at the face of this woman. I tried to
act as
though I were in control, but I was only repeating what I
remembered
her doing. It didn't make the experience any less important,
but I
wished I could do something original, something that she
hadn't
already done. The indecision soon vanished when I looked
into her eyes
and kissed her lips. I was doing what I wanted to do. Did I
bring her
as much pleasure as I hoped? Or at least as much as I had received?
I
don't know -- but her body was exciting.
Everything was new to me: her nipples between my lips; the
way they
hardened when I sucked them; her stomach moving up and down
as I
kissed it and ran my tongue around her belly button. There
was one
awkward moment when I wondered where to put my arms and hands,
but I
found that by encircling her thighs with my arms and caressing
her
stomach with my hands I was quite comfortable. I kissed
and nibbled at
her mound and the soft skin of her inner thighs.
I learned what a woman tastes and smells like and I hoped,
above
all, that I was bringing Carol pleasure! At some point,
her hips began
moving rhythmically and I could hear her rapid and shallow
breathing.
Her hands clutched the back of my head, urging my tongue
deeper as I
probed between her lips and felt the rippling waves emanating
from
deep within her. Her vagina seemed to squeeze rhythmically
at the tip
of my tongue as I strained to push it into her. The slight
salty taste
of the area around her anus was not at all unpleasant, and
I was
reassured and encouraged by the sound of her moaning softly
as I ran
the flat surface of my tongue over it again and again.
I found her clitoris to be hot as I sucked gently on it, and
I felt
it grow out of it's small sheath as she ground her pelvis
against my
face. Her thighs, where they touched my cheeks, were trembling
and her
stomach rose and fell under my hands, just as I had seen my
own to do.
It seemed that I was indeed making her feel good.
When Carol reached down and grasped my shoulders, pulling
me up to
her, I was gratified to see that her face was flushed and
that she was
smiling warmly. We spent some time then just lying there
and looking
at each other. There seemed no need for talk. I finally broke
the
silence by saying something corny. I told her that I was
glad she had
seen fit to "get involved" with my therapy.
She apparently didn't find
it corny though, because she smiled and touched my cheek.
"So am I."
A knock on the door brought us out of our reverie, and I watched
Carol rise and put on her robe. I couldn't hear what
was said in the
living room, but she was carrying my clothes when she returned.
"I'm sorry, Monica, " she said. "I
wish we could stay together
longer but your escort has come to fetch you." She
sat on the edge of
the bed and watched me dress. I think she sensed my mood.
"We'll be seeing more of each other." Those
were the words I wanted
to hear, and although the frenzy we had shared a few minutes
earlier
was gone now, she came to me when I had finished dressing
and kissed
me on the lips. We hugged each other as if I were leaving on
a long
trip and I couldn't help the tears when I left with the
escort.
I stopped at the reception counter on the way out and the
lady gave
me a card for my next appointment on Friday. I could think
of nothing
else as I drove home.
<br>
<br>
Monica - Part III
<br>
<br>
Even before the alarm went off I was up and wide awake, luxuriating
in a steaming tub. The fragrance of bath oil filled my nostrils
as I
sank deep into the water. I wanted to look and smell nice,
hoping that
I'd be with Carol again. What had happened on Wednesday
was more than
it seemed on the surface. Nearly every waking moment since
was filled
with memories of our lovemaking. It was like my first crush
in junior
high; nothing mattered except being with that special
person.
<br>
Wednesday evening I'd gone to the mall. Passing a "Frederick's
of
Hollywood, " I decided to browse a little. A sales
girl descended on me
to ask if she could help me. I told her that I was looking for
something special in panties and bra.
She first showed me a wide array of crotchless panties.
"Not that special, " I told her. "But
something fancy and of high
quality; I want to pamper myself for a change."
The clerk suggested real silk as the ultimate in quality,
but added
that it's difficult to get a good fit. You have to have
just the right
figure because they don't make silk panties in large
or "queen" sizes.
She stepped back to look at me.
"But you have lovely hips. I'm sure we can find
something perfect."
She selected several pair and ushered me to the dressing
booth.
After trying them all, I chose a white one with beautiful
lace trim
around the waist and leg openings. They were really the
only ones that
fit me. (Silk has hardly any stretch so they had to be just
the right
size or they'd not fit properly.) Besides, they felt
so heavenly
against my skin that I simply had to have them!
The brassiere was a little easier because I'm an exact
38-C and
didn't have to worry about it being a little too big
or a little too
small. The lace trim was exactly the same as that on the panties
...
it was perfect. Of course, it was not the kind of bra you would
wear
if you expected any support (and I'm quite thankful
that I don't
really require any). The thin lace straps looked delicate
but seemed
strong enough, and the front closure was easy to manage.
I told the
girl I'd take them and tried not to flinch when she rang
up the sale.
Fifty-eight something including tax.
<br>
Anyway, on Friday morning I arrived for my appointment
early again,
about a half hour or so. The receptionist saw me coming and
was
opening the file drawer when I walked up to the window. She
took my
card with a friendly smile and slid the bottle and cup across
to me.
Given the opportunity, I tried to read the label while twisting
the
cap off and, not wanting to be too obvious, could only read
the large
printing. "Dynalax, " it said across the top
and, in smaller letters
"with supplement-a (see precautions)." While
pouring it into the cup I
wished I were bold enough to really study the small print
and find out
what it said about precautions. But something prevented
me from doing
so. I drank it all and returned the empties to the receptionist.
"Someone will be with you shortly, Miss French, "
she said. I
thanked her and walked through to the waiting area, taking
a seat near
the bathroom as before.
I was a little bit startled when the bathroom door opened
and a man
walked out. He looked to be a year or so older than me, maybe
late
twenties, and our eyes met for a moment as he nodded silently
in my
direction and walked to the other side of the room to sit.
His face
was flushed and he appeared to be sweating as he wiped his
trembling
hand across his forehead. "Another victim, "
I thought and I tried to
watch him without actually staring. I didn't get much
of a chance.
Only a moment later Carol McGee came around the corner and
spoke to
him. As he stood up Carol looked over at me and smiled. She
waved,
sort of, with her arm behind her as she turned and walked
away with
the man. With her wave and conspiratorial smile she got
the idea
across that she was happy to see me but that she wasn't
supposed to
acknowledge me personally. I surmised that the staff was
expected to
keep everything on a purely professional level. The possibility
that I
might meet her again that day suddenly seemed unbearably
remote.
It wasn't long before I had to take my turn in the bathroom.
It
was uneventful but I did enjoy using the bidet again. I was
especially
careful not to soil my new panties even though the person
for whom I'd
worn them probably wouldn't get to see them. My mood
was somber as I
reclaimed my seat in the waiting room and I found myself
just staring
at the corner around which Carol had disappeared.
When my escort appeared (yes, the same one as always), I
stood and
accepted her hand and even returned her smile. The last
thing I felt
like doing was smiling at some stranger, but I've explained
all that.
I couldn't help smiling and acting eager to get on with
my session!
When we passed Carol's office door I tried to listen
for any sounds or
voices but could only hear my own footsteps and those of
my escort. We
walked several doors farther and stopped while she knocked
softly.
The knock was answered promptly and a pretty red-headed
woman swung
the door wide, greeted me by name and waved me in.
"Hello Monica, " she said with a smile. "We've
been waiting for
you." As the door closed I reached out to take her proffered
hand and
she told me that her name was Jill. In what appeared to be
the only
normal looking piece of furniture in the room, a stuffed
chair, sat
the other half of the "we" Jill had mentioned.
I stared at her and
then back at Jill as the realization struck me that they
were twins!
"I'm Jill's sister, Jodie, " the
girl in the chair said with an
identical smile as she stood up and reached for my other
hand. They
laughed at my expression as I managed to find my voice.
"You're twins, aren't you, " I said,
and felt really stupid for
saying it. All I could do was blush and giggle like a fool.
They were absolutely gorgeous! Shoulder length hair that
sort of
flipped up at the sides and back and seemed to glisten. Dark,
smiling
eyes so intense it was hard not to stare at them. Slightly
upturned
noses and exaggerated dimples that were especially prominent
when they
smiled. Gleaming teeth that could have come from a toothpaste
ad.
They were dressed in knit work-out suits (Jill in light
blue and
Jodie in pink) with scooped fronts showing an ample amount
of
cleavage. The legs were cut high at the sides, almost to
the waist,
and their legs and feet appeared to be bare. Their bodies
were what I
would have to describe simply as beautiful: narrow waists
and wide,
full hips that blended into long slender legs; large, firm
breasts and
flat tummies. Aside from the different colored suits,
there was one
other means of telling them apart. The thin material at
the front of
Jodie's suit showed clearly the outline of her alert
nipples and I
found myself staring at them.
Following my eyes, Jodie rubbed a finger back and forth
across her
right nipple and explained with a grin that they almost
always stood
out like that. She seemed so bold! But when she brought her
hand up to
squeeze my breast I just smiled and giggled a little, wishing
the hand
were Carol's. Closing my eyes, I could easily believe
that I it was
Carol cupping me there, squeezing gently.
They began to.... I don't know.... sort of inspect
me? Like they
were checking out a new car, and they did everything but
kick my
tires! I think it was Jill's hands on by buttocks, feeling
me through
the fabric of my skirt. When she began to work the garment
upward I
reached down and helped her to pull the hem up around my waist.
She
slipped her fingers down inside the back of my panties at
the same
time as Jodie began stroking the front and I felt suddenly
weak.
Jill gripped my buttocks and pulled me tight against her
pelvis,
sandwiching Jodie's hand between us. Someone nibbled
the side of my
neck as Jill, her hands still down the back of my panties,
spread my
buttocks and slipped her fingers downward between them.
A finger
pressed firmly against my anus.
It was then that Jodie slipped away, leaving Jill and me
to
ourselves. Jill's body was terribly exciting because
she was so firm
in the places where she should have been soft -- more like
a man. Oh,
she looked very soft and feminine, pleasing to the eye and
all, but
her buttocks and thighs felt muscular and hard where Carol's
were so
caress-able (if that's a word). Her breasts were quite
firm too, and I
found my hands roaming back and forth between her butt and
chest while
she seemed to be mostly interested in squeezing my ass,
occasionally
slipping her fingers down between my cheeks. Her tongue
slid in and
out of my mouth. I was nearly mesmerized by what she was doing
when I
heard Jodie speak our names.
Coming up for air, so-to-speak, I turned to look in her direction.
The pink workout suit was gone, but I couldn't tell
exactly what had
replaced it. She faced slightly away from us and appeared
to be naked
but for a shiny black leather waistband with a narrower
strap that
passed down between her buttocks and disappeared between
her legs.
Jill guided me across the room to her sister, her impish
expression
drawing me on.
Jodie stood in front of a small stainless steel cabinet
and turned
to lean against it as we drew near. Her hands had been cupping
her
breasts. Now they slid down her sides and over her hips.
The fingers
seemed to glide across her skin and came to rest on either
side of her
pubic mound.
Two straps attached to the waistband in front,
about six inches
apart and centered on her belly. They descended to a triangular
piece
of black leather that covered her mound. The lower point
disappeared
between her thighs, presumably to meet the single strap
I'd seen in
the rear. In the center of the black triangle was a small
roun

Post Your Comment | Mark As Favorite

Member Responses Post Your Comment

Members can vote on this response!

you did not finish part 3.what happened?

10/26/2005