Two weeks later, Tricia left for the APA convention in Chicago; it was also our nine-day fall break and, since I was caught up on academic work for a change, I decided to give Karen a call.

"Hello," her husky, sultry voice set all my nerve ends tingling.

"It's Paul," I answered in a shaky voice. "Tricia's out of town for the APA convention. I just wondered if you'd made any plans for the fall break."

"None that are very firm--I just planned to chill, mostly. Did you want to get together?"

"I'd love to--between me and Tricia working on papers and her preparing for her trip, we only got together once, to look at the final version of her thesis, and we were so beat we fell asleep before sex happened. I haven't had a nozzle up my ass or a pussy around my dick since that wild weekend with the `shrooms and videos."

"I have to pick up some smoke, then I'll be over to get you. Have all your toys packed and I'll see you about four."

"I may need to stop by Tricia's for a few things. Will that slow you down?"

"No. I'll need to pick up a few groceries on the way home, but you can help me with that. Oh, Paul, do something for me, will you?"

"What's that?"

"Give yourself a two-quarter, expel it, then put in your biggest plug, wear the waist belt with the jock attached, a pair of sexy panties, your tightest jeans, and a loose sport shirt."

"Sounds good to me. I'll probably get so horny I'll have to jack off before you get here."

"No way," her tone changed to ice. "Save it for me. I'm feeling greedy."

"Okay--see you at four."

She hung up and I went into my bedroom to strip down. I decided to don the waist belt before giving myself the prescribed preparatory enema--my thought was to prepare myself psychologically for the explosive pressure I anticipated. Once I was dressed for this activity, I lubed my ass with a q-tip, filled my open-top bag with warm water, attached a douche nozzle to the hose, hung the bag on a towel rack over the tub, lay back in the tub, inserted the nozzle, and got in the knee-chest position as I opened the clamp.

The water gurgled into my belly. I rubbed my abdomen as the bag flattened out. When it emptied, I lay there for a few minutes, rubbing my expanded gut vigorously. Finally, a cramp seized me and I removed the nozzle and hopped to the toilet. I held off as long as I could, watching my erection throb from the pressure on my prostate. When the retention cramps got too painful, I relaxed my anal muscles, simultaneously shooting a huge burst of semen which I dabbed off with bathroom tissue. Ten minutes later, after wiping myself, I pulled off the abdominal cinch, took a quick shower, got back into the cinch, lubed my ass carefully with one, two, then three fingers, sat on my big ripple plug, pulled on my black silk panties--all the way up the crack of my ass to anchor the plug--and donned a pair of supertight jeans, cinching them tightly with a leather belt, and put on a baggy polo shirt. I threw all my kinky gear into one side of my big pullman suitcase, along with toiletries and extra clothes, closed the compartment and the suitcase, and relaxed in the living room with a beer and the latest issue of Water and Power .

I was into my second beer when I heard a knock at the door. When I opened it, Karen stood there, dressed in a pastel blue halter top which bared her midriff, and white shorts so tight her soft belly bulged roundly above and below the waist. I wrapped my arms around her and drew her into a deep tongue kiss, my hands traveling down to fondle her ample buttocks. When we came up for air, I remarked, "Sorry if I embarrassed you, but you look so delicious I couldn't help myself."

"You came while you were taking your prescribed cleanout, didn't you?"

"Yes--but I didn't touch myself once."

"If your stuff's ready, let's go."

I grabbed the suitcase and magazine and followed her out to her car, a pale blue 1978 Lincoln Versailles. I put the case in the back seat and climbed into the front passenger's side.

As we buckled our seatbelts, she asked, "Is that the latest issue of Water and Power?"

As I nodded, she directed, "Find a hot story and read it to me on the way to Tricia's house."

The story I chose concerned a man visiting a woman doctor for problems with impotence. After giving him a physical, she massaged his prostate with gloved fingers, then filled a 3.8 quart bag with warm water to which a vitamin E concentrate had been added. The man's writhing on the table and subsequent ejaculation had us both panting by the time Karen pulled up at Tricia's.

Karen went in with me and helped me select and pack undergarments and enema toys. "I'm going to borrow Tricia's bong, too," she announced. "I'll leave a note for her."

Back in her car, we headed to Country Fair for munchies. Before we got out of the Lincoln, Karen rubbed my belly sensuously and announced, "Tricia and I decided you'd look sexier and more feminine if your undergarments fit a little tighter. So, I'm going to start fattening you up during the break. That means ice cream, candy bars, cheese--anything rich and tasty with lots of calories. Every time we finish eating, we'll smoke some bongs to get you hungry for the next binge. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great as long as you don't neglect the colonic therapy. By the way, what's for supper?"

"Baked beans with bacon and jalapeños, and macaroni and cheese. That way, when I start pulling your plug for your first enema, the pressure from the gas will blow it out of you."

"We'd better get the groceries--talking this way is making me way too horny."

We got out of the Lincoln and joined hands to walk into the store.

We started with Hershey big block bars in both milk chocolate and dark chocolate--two dozen of each--then added an equal number of four-packs of Reese's peanut butter cups; these were on a bottom shelf and I felt Karen's hands on my buttocks as I bent over to get them. One hand went to my asscrack to push on the plug. "If you keep that up, I'll cream my jeans," I protested.

"I can't help it--that round ass of yours looks so cute bent over in front of me. I keep fantasizing about how sexy it will be to fill it with my liquid therapy when we're at my house." Her lips brushed past my right ear as I straightened to put the bars in the cart.

The next stop was the dairy case for two-pound bulk packs of cheddar, colby, Monterey jack, muenster, and Swiss cheese, then we went to the freezer case for ice cream. We got a gallon each of strawberry and vanilla, plus half-gallons of cherry cheesecake, maple nut, fudge revel, and pistachio.

Walking our cart up to the counter, she threw an arm around my waist and rubbed my belly affectionately. "We're going to raise a big belly for you. I want you to try my shorts on when we get home, to see if you have a bigger paunch than I do. You'll get to keep them on while I feed you a big dish of strawberry ice cream as the beans are cooking." She flashed me a smile so warm I got weak in the knees as she pulled out her checkbook to pay for the groceries.

Out in the car, she demanded, "Read me another story from Water and Power on the way to my house."

This story was about a woman in a psychiatric hospital undergoing treatment for depression and anxiety. Her main therapy, besides daily morning sessions with her psychiatrist, consisted of antidepressant drugs and two-hour afternoon colonic sessions. She described being placed on a bed with rubber sheets on it, her ass elevated by a system of pulleys which drew her thighs back to touch her shoulders. Under her ass was a large bedpan, and the colon tube which the nurse eased into her ass was connected to one of five one-gallon cans containing a two-percent saline solution. Every twenty minutes, the nurse reconnected the tube to a full can of solution, each one progressively warmer. She stated that she often started such sessions in tears from the cathartic nature of her morning sessions. By the time she was holding five gallons of water in her near- exploding belly, she'd usually orgasmed a dozen times and was so weak the nurses had to physically position her on the bedpan after releasing the straps and pulleys. She also had a chain of orgasms as they pulled the colon tube from her ass. When the sessions were over at four p.m., the nurses tucked her into bed to nap until suppertime.

By this time we were at Karen's apartment--I followed her with my suitcase as she carried the groceries inside. "That story was the best one yet," she remarked, opening the freezer door to deposit all the ice cream except for the strawberry, which sat on the counter. She put the cheese in a crisper drawer, stored the candy on a shelf, and turned to circle me with her arms. As she squeezed my buttocks vigorously, she met my lips and inserted her tongue into my mouth. I groaned inwardly as my dick stirred to life, and I cupped her meaty ass with both hands, pressing my throbbing center against hers.

"I feel like ripping off your clothes right now--taking you on the kitchen table. I want you so bad it's almost physically painful." I removed my right hand from her ass to cup her left breast.

She disengaged us to slowly unbutton her halter and cast it aside, then undid her shorts and slid them off her hips and down her legs. She came back to press her generous body, clad in a matching pink pushup bra and French-cut panties, against my trembling body. Her hands reached back to pull my shirt over my head, then undid my belt and the fly of my jeans. We regained our embrace clad in underwear, tongues dueling furiously until she broke away, panting heavily, and took my hand to lead me back to her bedroom.

Karen's bra and panties, plus my panties, made our breadcrumb trail to the bedroom; we fell onto her bed with our bodies locked together in passion, devouring each other with lips and wandering hands as our desire engulfed us. The kitchen fondling had been ample foreplay and Karen knelt on all fours, grabbing my dick to insert it into her woman place dog-style. The sight of her plump, perfect moon set me aflame, and I humped into her furiously as her pelvis drove back to meet me in bone-jarring smashes. Screaming and whimpering, we quickly slaked our initial lust, then flopped into each other's arms to rest when our aftershocks subsided. "So good," she crooned, stroking my buttocks as I cupped her pubis with my right hand and spread her bottom with my left to insert the middle finger up her bung, which was slippery with our mingled sex juices. Looking into my eyes, she asked, "Are you hungry yet?"

"Starved. I could probably eat until I burst."

"Let's go get stoned. You can put your stuff away--toys in the bathroom--clothes and lingerie in the spare bedroom--while I start the beans, then I'll shovel some ice cream into your tummy."

We recaptured our underwear en route to the kitchen. "Sit down," Karen said, scooping half- melted strawberry ice cream into a large bowl and putting the container into the freezer. She pulled her pot from her purse while I got the bong filled, then we sat side by side as we took five hits apiece. Taking a hand to lead me to my feet by the counter, she began putting the tight white shorts on me. The waist would barely close, even with my breath held, and she pressed herself against me and began to spoon ice cream into my mouth. "Every morning we'll put you into these shorts, first thing, and measure how much your stomach bulges an inch or so below the waistline. I want to see at least a one- to two-inch increase by the time classes resume, or I'll have you move in here for a two-week forced diet." She ground her crotch into mine as she spooned the last of the ice cream into my mouth, then thrust her tongue into my mouth. "Yummy. Strawberry makes your mouth taste so nice. I'll have to warm some up sometime and give you a melted ice cream enema through a inflatable nozzle." She squeezed my asscheeks as she said this. I groaned and belched from the huge dish of ice cream I'd eaten. "Lay the shorts on the chair, then go take off your waist cinch and jock, put on your pink bra and panties, and come back here and put the shorts back on." She sent me off with a swat to my rear.

When I returned, she measured my waist under the shorts--27"--and my belly an inch or so below the waistband--37". "Our goal is to swell your belly to an amazing 40 inches at this point by Thanksgiving. That means you'd expand to an astounding 45 inches when retaining a five-quart infusion. All things in proportion, your hip measurement should go from 39 to 42 inches in the same period." She pinched my asscheeks lewdly, then remarked, "Then we'll see some very feminine curves when we crossdress you." She moved to stir the beans, then added, "I'll put these in to bake in a few minutes, then we'll do a few more bongs and I'll feed you a dark chocolate bar to tide you over until supper. Go hang those white shorts in my bedroom--there's a pair of red ones on the hanger I want you to try on. The waist size is twenty-five, and I think it would be sexy to see a bigger bulge to your middle, if you can get them on."

Returning from the master bedroom, I saw Karen bent over the open oven, placing the casserole of beans on the center rack, next to the container of macaroni and cheese she'd pulled from her freezer. Her round bottom was so inviting I knelt behind her and placed a kiss on her crack. Giggling, she straightened and asked, "Could you get the waistband on those shorts closed?"

"Just barely." I stood to display my painfully constricted waist, roundly swelling gut, and protruding buttocks in their crimson captivity. She patted my belly and looked into my eyes.

"I think I'll make you wear these through supper--see how much the candy, beans, and mac'n'cheese do to improve your curvature. Oh--please don't come in my shorts--if you do, you'll get Vicks on the nozzle and cold soapy water for your first enema.

"Promises, promises," I wisecracked.

"Not only will that happen, but I'll also put you in rubber panties before I start the enema, and you'll have to wear them until we finish dessert before expelling in the panties." She kneaded my belly forcefully as she said this, then swung away to sit at the table and load the bong.

We each took a few hits, then she took a bar of dark chocolate from the shelf and led me to her bedroom. Shucking her panties at the door, she laid down on the bed and asked, "Can you guess how you're going to eat this chocolate?"

"Out of your pussy?" I asked.

"Yes--a piece at a time." She broke off a piece, spread her legs, and inserted it just inside her pink cuntlips. "Come on, baby--get your candy."

I crept onto the bed on hands and knees, sought out the entrance to her box with my mouth, pulled the chocolate out with my lips, and let it dissolve in my mouth as I applied my tongue to her clit. In this manner I consumed all seven segments of the bar, as Karen writhed and shook on the bed. Finally, she beckoned me to her side, where we kissed and fondled each other for several minutes before coupling lazily and making love slowly and sweetly until the oven timer bell rang.

I put the red shorts back on over the bra and panties, then joined Karen in the kitchen. The dishes of beans and mac'n'cheese were on trivets in the center of the table, along with a tray of seven-grain bread, a jar of pickles, and a dish of butter. We passed the bong back and forth, then dived into the meal. Karen ate as heartily as I did, and all that was left at the end of the meal was a few slices of bread. I rubbed my belly contentedly as Karen glanced over at me solicitously. "Did you get full?" she asked, squeezing my right thigh with her left hand.

"I might have eaten too much. These tight shorts make me feel like I'm going to burst."

"If you'll stack the dishes and fill the sink, I'll roll us a joint."

As I completed my task, I could feel a fart pushing against the plug in my ass. I'd started scrubbing the plates and flatware when Karen came up to me and pressed her crotch into my ass. "You can finish those after dessert. Let's smoke this." She lit the doobie, took a long hit, and handed it to me. As we exchanged tokes, she caressed my genitals, squeezed my belly and asscheeks, and nipped at my nipples after unhooking the bra.

"Don't do that or I'll come all over your shorts for sure." This only caused her to tease me all the more, pressing her center against my throbbing dick. When her right hand went between my cheeks to press the plug into me deeper, I let out a moan and exploded in a warm flush of ejaculation. She smacked my ass sharply with an open hand, crossed to the refrigerator, and brought out a chocolate mousse. Spooning a large portion into two big bowls, she put the remainder away, took out a bowl of synthetic cream topping, spooned a bunch on each dessert, and took them over to the table.

We sat, thighs touching, and ate the rich dessert. Afterwards, we sat belching until she rose and directed, "Finish the dishes and put them in the drain rack after you rinse them. I'm going to get things ready in the bathroom." As I complied, I felt increasing pressure against the plug in my rear. I was so marvelously stuffed that I knew my punishment for making a mess in Karen's red shorts was going to entail some sweet agony. Absent-mindedly, I stacked the rinsed dishes, wiped down the sink, and hung the towels in their places. Then I went to the bathroom to find Karen.

She stood with her arms crossed impatiently. "It took you long enough," she said. "Pull off those shorts and scrub the crotch while I get you ready."

As I struggled to pull off the too-tight shorts, then spotted them with a damp washcloth, I felt Karen tug at my plug. An explosive fart pushed it out into her waiting hands, setting the air reeking. She rudely thrust two q-tips, coated with Vicks, up my bung, then paddled each cheek of my ass one hundred times with a studded hard rubber paddle. "I'll cure that farting," she said, removing the swabs to thrust a Vicks-coated finger up my tush, pistoning it in and out and hooking against my P-spot until I was again hugely erect. Without a word, she inserted a inflatable nozzle coated with the same fiery lubricant into my burning rectum. Pumping it to inflation, she positioned me on my left side in the cold bathtub, suspended a 3.8 quart hospital bag bulging with sudsy water from the shower curtain rod, and opened the clamp. Once I'd taken a quart, already cramping from the soap, she turned me onto my back, straddled my face, and pulled my thighs back toward my head. "I see those beans are working," she remarked, covering my face with her fanny. I lapped eagerly at her pussy and bunghole, wincing at times as she cut loose with a nasty fart. As my abdomen bulged further upward, I felt her mouth surround my dick and surrendered myself to the sensation.

By the time the bag hung flat, we'd both experienced shattering climaxes. Karen rose, helped me to my feet, and walked me into the kitchen after detaching the hose from the inflatable nozzle lead. I struggled to walk and don the rubber panties she'd handed me in the bathroom at the same time. "Let's measure your tummy," she said. Wrapping the tape around my waist, she read the number and whistled. "Nearly 42 inches." She led me to the living room, popped a sex flick into the VCR, and straddled me on the couch as soon as my erection stirred into life.

Finally, she made me release my soapy punishment into the rubber panties, kneeling on the shower floor as she paddled my ass some more, ordered me to rinse the tub and the panties when I started the shower, and joined me in there after it was clean. As we rinsed off, she rinsed my bowels with a pint douche bulb of clear water, oiled my genitals and asshole, then dressed me in the blue bra and panties, took me into her arms, and rocked me to sleep.

I woke up with my erection stirring against the crack of Karen's soft ass. I reached around to caress her labia and clit. She moaned in arousal, rocking back against me in rhythm to my stroking. Suddenly, my bowels grumbled and I cut loose with a huge fart; Karen giggled and seconded it with one of her own. "I think," she remarked, "it's time to break out some bags and plug nozzles for a long slow fillup while we make love. Then I'll dig out my double-headed dildo for us to play with." Hugely aroused, I brought her face to mine so our lips could meet.

"That sounds wonderful, but what about my diet? Shouldn't I start eating some fattening stuff right away?"

"We can eat bagels and cream cheese while we do our tandem lavage, then we'll really stuff our guts after we release." She rolled to her back, kissed me some more, rubbed my stomach vigorously (which triggered another series of farts), giggled lewdly, and added, "I can't wait to see the expression on your face when you discover the doctoring I'm doing on our first enemas. You might not want to wait for a big breakfast before we sit on the double dong." I felt a finger push into my bunghole, so I relaxed and writhed as she massaged my prostate to the point where I was sure I'd explode a burst of hot cum against her soft white belly.

I looked into her eyes; their pale blue bore a perverse expression I'd never seen in anyone else's eyes. Kissing me, she asked, "Are you finally noticing that I have bathroom eyes where most sexy women have bedroom eyes?"

"What do you mean by bathroom eyes?"

"I mean that I can exercise my will in order to control your use of the bathroom. It means you have no conscious power over your body's need to piss or shit because I'm in command of those functions. It means that your loss of power over these basic body needs leaves me totally in control of your pain and pleasure. It also means that a look from me can cause you to be constipated or incontinent, depending on what pleases me at the moment. Can you handle that?"

"I feel like I've died and gone to heaven."

"Good--into the bathroom! March!"

In the bathroom, she blindfolded me. "This will be an exercise in trust," she remarked, running water and moving equipment around. "Once we hook up and I open the clamps, I'll have you put a blindfold on me and we'll get creative as our tummies get filled." I heard her shut the water off and leave the room.

When she returned, she handed me what I quickly surmised was a bagel. "Go ahead and start eating while I get you ready. Lie on your left side." As I bit into the heavy pastry, savoring the cream cheese filling, I felt a lubricated finger worm its way into my bung, causing me to erect instantly. The finger was withdrawn, only to be followed by two lubricated fingers, then three, and finally by the blunt tip of the plug nozzle. I grunted as she pushed in the thick part, and then the instrument was seated in my ass. I finished my first bagel as Karen grunted to insert her own nozzle. I heard her chewing on a bagel, so I asked, "You didn't by any chance bring some extra cream cheese in on a plate, did you?"

"Right here," she handed me a plate.

"Good--I'd love to eat some of this out of your box while the water's going into us."

"That sounds really sexy," she remarked with a shiver in her voice. "But blindfold me first."

I set down the plate, took the strip of cloth she handed me, and, positioning it over her eyes, tied it around her head. "Now lie on your back," she directed. As I did so, I felt her thighs surround my head, her mouth surrounding my penis, the clicking of two clamps registering on my ears.

I reached for the plate and, by Braille, smeared a quantity of the cream cheese on her labia majora, then handed Karen the plate. I felt her plastering some of the gooey stuff onto my dick and began lapping at her pussy as her mouth engulfed my manhood.

"So good," Karen crooned. "I'm gonna cum so hard I'll probably need another nap before breakfast."

"This feels wonderful," I seconded. "Getting my tummy filled from both ends and also being stimulated into sexual overload. I may pass out after I come."

Karen's pelvis jerked on my face. "I'm coming," she moaned, and I felt her mouth action speed up as I too slid into climax. My belly felt incredibly full. When Karen recovered, she handed me another bagel. "After we eat these, we'll switch positions a little and fuck. Have you noticed anything unusual about this enema?"

"I feel a bit lightheaded. Why?"

"These are 3.8 quart bags with about four ounces of brandy in each. I'm going to close the clamps for a minute so we don't get drunk too fast."

Karen assisted me onto my left side as she lay on her right side facing me. She placed my penis between her warm thighs, squeezing it into full erection. Hooking her right leg over my left, she guided me into her woman place, put my right leg and her left leg into appropriate positions, and opened the clamps again. "This is the way we might have to fuck if I were pregnant." Her lips met mine and we engaged in an incredibly erotic kiss as the rest of the water drained into our hugely swelling bellies. When no more water flowed in, she reached up to close the clamps, then got up on all fours and guided me into her dog style. Soon, we were screaming each other's names as we lost ourselves in the intensity of our mutual pleasure. I felt her soft ass smash against my pelvis as I slammed into her harder and harder. Finally, we screamed each other's names and erupted as our bodies slammed together one last time.

I patted and kneaded her distended abdomen as the aftershocks subsided. "I'll let you release first," I offered.

"Thanks. That way, I'll be able to go make breakfast while you finish." She removed my blindfold as I removed hers. Belching, she added, "I'm a little tipsy," then rose, grabbed her bag, and took a tape measure from the medicine cabinet. "Girth check," she announced, running the measure around my gut just below the navel, at the maximum curve of my expanded bulge. "Forty-one and a half inches. You shrank," she looked into my eyes sternly. "That means you're not eating enough. I'll have to measure myself." She put the tape around her expanded waist. "I was thirty- five after eating last night. Now I'm thirty-nine. On schedule so far." She put the tape away and straddled the toilet. "Help me with my plug, will you?" I grasped the base and tugged gently until the pressure from the water pushed it out into my hands. She sank to the toilet as a huge fart brought a noisy flood of waste products from her big, round bottom. After wiping the plug, I assisted her by kneading her rapidly-deflating gut. A beatific smile came to her face as she guided my hand lower so I could manipulate her genitals. After a screaming climax, she rose, wiped herself (with my help, of course), and said, "Your turn."

After pulling my plug and wiping it, she took me into her mouth and gobbled me furiously, causing me to cry out in orgasm before I was half-empty. She left the bathroom after gently dabbing my dick with a washcloth.

Later, in the kitchen, I found her putting finishing touches on a Mexican omelet, hash browns, and country sausage. A plate of buttered whole wheat toast lay on the sideboard, and a creamy tan concoction rested in the blender.

"What's to drink," I inquired.

"Irish coffee to complement the bong hits we're taking before and during breakfast."

"You mean we're going to be half insensible by the time we're done eating?"

"Yes--all the better to squeeze you into tight feminine gear and fuck you with my seventeen-inch double dong."

I bent over, pulled my cheeks apart, and moaned, "My ass is all yours, sweet baby."

"Then get that flabby tush of yours in gear and set the table," she commanded sternly.

As I hopped to my task, she extracted the omelet, potatoes, and sausage from the cookware onto platters and handed them to me.

We passed around the bong for several rounds until I began to sprawl in my chair. Squeezing my left thigh with her right hand, she directed, "Let's eat before this stuff gets any colder." We inhaled the meal, then, sipping our third cup of Irish coffee, she asked, "How does the leftover chocolate mousse sound as a finisher?"

"Great--I'll get it." We ate the dessert luxuriantly, her right hand squeezing my buttocks as I cleaned my bowl almost spitshine clean.

As I began to stack the dishes and run water to soak them, she corrected, "Forget the slave penance. I do have a dishwasher, you know." I quickly rinsed and stacked the dishes, added soap, and started the dishwasher, then followed her into the bedroom.

She inserted a q-tip coated with K-Y jelly into my lustful bung, working it in and out until my dick was erect. Then she withdrew it, coated two fresh swabs with the lubricant, and repeated her massage of my prostate. After application of three of the q-tips, she insinuated the middle "bird" finger of her left hand gently into my behind, curling it to reach my "g-spot" with such exquisite perversity that I nearly came from her ministrations.

When she withdrew her finger, she helped me into the black bra and breast forms, added the corset, cinched to excruciating snugness, helped me into the black garter belt and fishnet nylons, and handed me the black crotchless panties to don. When I stood attired in this feminine outfit, she whistled, "You look pretty sexy, baby. Now bend over so I can resume my foreplay."

As I bent on shaky knees to spread my cheeks wide apart, she took a Polaroid camera from her dresser and shot several pictures of my open behind, my tightly incurved waist, and my pendulous imitation breasts.

Suddenly, she plunged two fingers smartly up my backside, reawakening my nearly soft erection- -then repeated the same invasion with three lubricated fingers.

"Are you ready to be fucked like a real woman?" she asked.

"Give it to me--I'm so open my hole is crying for your hardness."

I felt the broad, rounded tip of the dildo entering my pooper, pushing harder, deeper, until I felt her silky pubic hairs against the cheeks of my ass. I pushed hard against her, and another inch slipped in. She pulled out slowly, grabbing my balls with her left hand and my right buttock with her right hand for stability.

In and out--the sweet, yet brutal, fullness I felt in each entry turned my prostate to molten fire. My bowels felt like they were stirred as a pot of fudge is stirred by a skillful cook.

Her movements speeded up--I moaned in gibbering, inarticulate excitement. My guts turned to liquid as she slammed in and out of me. Finally, from deep within, a burning sensation of piercing sweetness overwhelmed me, and I felt my belly give a lurch as I watched my semen shoot four feet from my dick to spatter against her bedspread. I slumped wearily to the carpet, the ersatz phallus still pumping in and out of me as Karen brought herself to a last shattering, shuddering climax. As she pulled out of me, I heard her say, "It's time for a nap."

After our nap, Karen and I smoked several bong hits apiece, nursed cups of Irish coffee, and ate two pounds of ribs she'd set on to bake before we lay down for a snooze. We also ate one-pound baked potatoes, creamed corn, and huge dishes of pistachio ice cream. Karen walked out of the dining room momentarily, returning with a tape measure. "It's time to size your belly, Paula--take off your bathrobe and hold your arms out to your sides." She put the measure around my waist, then whistled. "This is marvelous--39 1/2 inches. You have only an inch and a half to go." I belched loudly from the huge meal, then bent behind her on all fours to part her ass cheeks and thrust my tongue into the forbidden orifice between them.

She moaned and writhed, remarking in ragged gasps, "I'll have to put the tight rubber shorts on you and put the catheter up you when you're finished. I can think of no more fitting reward for your accomplishment and devotion than a five-quart low warm belly-buster with a half-cup of creme de menthe added." She shook in a chain of orgasms, then moved away to load the bong. As we took three more hits each, she directed, "Wait in the bathroom on your hands and knees, spread your buttocks wide apart, and I'll be in to get you ready in a moment."