Karen and I wound up out at Giant City State Park, hiking one of the easier trails (with respect both to her possible pregnancy and to the outfit she was wearing, which I didn't want to see her ruin because it made her look so delicious). We were back at her place by about three, and she exclaimed, after unlocking the door and dragging our stuff in, "God--we should have stopped for food along the way. I'm absolutely famished."

"I know what you mean, lover. I'm really hungry, too." I drew her into my arms, kissing her tenderly and marvelling again at the feeling of her soft, voluptuous body against mine. "Of course, I can't decide whether I'm hungrier for food or for sex, but we should eat something so we'll have the energy to make love the rest of the day." I squeezed her buttocks (such soft squeezable asscheeks they were, indeed) and thrust my tongue into her mouth, feeling an irresistible stirring of desire for her ripe voluptuous body and a simultaneous tenderness toward her fragile, sensitive spirit. "Is there anything to cook in here?"

"I think we cleaned out most of the food while Trish was away at the APA convention. I hate the thought of going out, but we should probably go to the store--just for a few things." A thought crossed her mind, and she added, "And I'd like to pick up a home pregnancy test." She squeezed my buns as she said this, causing my dick to stir into erection. "Even though I'm sure I've conceived by the feeling I got last night, I'd like to get more empirical confirmation." Her eyes began to mist over, and she swallowed hard, seemingly wanting to say something.

"What is it, darling?" I rubbed the small of her back, finding the pressure point I knew would make her relax. "What were you about to say?"

"Just this--I really hope I am pregnant with your baby. I really want to be pregnant, not for pregnancy's sake per se, but because it would be something that our love for each other has created. What I wanted to say is that, if I'm not pregnant, do you want to keep trying until I do get pregnant?" Again, her eyes misted over as she said this, and I just hugged her fiercely, nodding as I kissed her again.

"Why do you even feel the need to ask?" I squeezed her buns again, grabbing them firmly and separating them as I rubbed my bursting erection against her soft belly. "If it turns out I haven't gotten you pregnant yet, we'll just have to fuck a lot more, a lot more often, and perhaps I should start taking some ginseng and vitamin E, and whatever else I can get my hands on to increase my sperm count and sperm motility."

"Let's sit down and make a shopping list, Paul. We don't want to forget anything." She drew me onto the couch, grabbed a pen and pad from the end table, and began writing. "Oh, I think oysters are a good idea, too. They definitely enhance virility, and I think I read a recent medical report that attributed higher sperm counts to eating them, too."

"It's interesting to hear you say that. I'd always heard that Midwestern women had an aversion to seafood, and especially oysters, which are bottom feeders and live mainly on other sea animals' shit."

"I've always liked seafood, and I especially like oysters, especially after I heard about their aphrodisiac properties." A thought struck her, and she began scribbling. "I'm making a note to see if I can get more of the powder from Rima. I was amazed at what it did for all of us last night, but I'm especially impressed by the changes it made to your penis." As she said this, she fondled me through my jeans, making me sure I'd squirt a hot load before we could get back into her car for the trip to the store. "Do you like smoked oysters, oyster stew, or fried breaded oysters the best?"

"Well, smoked oysters are great on crackers with soup, and my mom used to make oyster stew on cold winter days--one of my fondest memories of childhood--and I've only had fried oysters once or twice. Hell, I can't decide." I reached over and weighed her huge breasts in my hands, feeling the nipples harden into points as I worked them with my fingers. "If you feed me oysters today, as horny as I am already, we'll probably be too sore to have sex tomorrow, because I aim to fuck you, and fuck you good. I'm so horny the crack of dawn better watch out for me."

"I almost forgot asparagus--I meant to ask Andy or Rima where they got that batch. And hell, you know they'll be all hours at that orgy, too."

"Then we'll just have to take our chances at the store, then come home and make our own orgy." I squeezed her left thigh as I said this, and she laid aside her pad and circled me with her arms, drawing me into a passionate kiss. I let my hands roam her body as she reciprocated, until, coming up for air, I asked, "What about the store?"

"The store can wait for an hour or so--come on." She took me by the hand and led me back to her bedroom. This time, we undressed in a leisurely manner, knowing we didn't have to hurry, and that, horny as we both were, we could take our time to really savor one another. As I pulled my t-shirt over my head, Karen began kissing my chest, swirling her tongue around my nipples until they hardened into little points, squeezing my penis through my jeans until I was burstingly erect.

"I'm gonna cum in my shorts if you keep that up," I protested, helping myself to a double handful of her pneumatic buns as she brought my arousal to fever pitch.

"My tits, hon--play with my tits," she moaned, thrusting her soft breasts hard at my chest. I brought my hands up and squeezed them, opening the first two buttons of her top as I did so. I massaged their opulent firmness for a few moments, then began squeezing her nipples through the cutouts in the sexy bra she wore, causing guttural moans to escape her lips.

"I don't know if I'd want to go to the store with you dressed in your present outfit," I observed, as I felt the hardened points of her nipples with both hands. "That top is near enough transparent that everyone in the store could see your nipples, especially as aroused as they are right now." Her right hand speeded its stroking motion in my crotch as her left began tugging open the zipper at my fly. Letting my jeans fall around my ankles, she reached into my tight jockey shorts and circled the object of her affection with her warm fingers, running up and down the shaft until I was sure I'd come before I could get inside her. "Damn, woman, do you really want to waste my jizz on a handjob?" I moaned in impossible arousal, not wanting to spurt all over her hand yet so lost in the deliciously sexy feeling that I didn't want her to stop what she was doing with her busy fingers, either.

""Well, then, quit playing with my tits and ass and give my pussy some attention." She let go of my dick, opened the fly of her shorts and let them drop, then took my right hand and pressed it into her center. "Feel how wet I am for you, lover." Her vagina was sopping; as I eased a finger between her labia, I could feel that the inside was already slick with her natural lubricant, so I hooked two fingers inside and rubbed against her G-spot until her grunting indicated she'd orgasmed at least once.

"Did you already come, before you dropped your pants?" I asked this in a voice crazed with lust.

"Oh yeah--why do you think I was so anxious for you to touch me and feel my inner wetness? Come to bed now," she demanded, pulling me onto its expanse. "I'm gonna leave my bra and panties on, because I know they'll excite you, and I think the texture against your skin will be a major turnon." Drawing me into her welcoming arms, she canted her pelvis so that my dick slid fully into her hot slick cunt with no preliminary fumbling. "Fuck me, baby. Give me every inch of your hard dick, and don't stop until you've drained every drop of come from your balls." I began to pump in and out of her delicious tightness, feeling as if every stroke was going to trigger that burning sweetness of ejaculation; her hands were all over me, running cool fingers along my sides and back, squeezing my buttcheeks in a viselike grip, then reaching between my cheeks to stroke my balls.

"I can't take much more of this," I protested. "I know I'm gonna cum, soon, and harder than I ever have." I continued spearing in and out of her slick heat, feeling as if I were experiencing my own little slice of heaven on earth, hearing her mewling cries and guttural moans that just spurred me on to fucking her harder. Occasionally, I'd feel her body stiffen and shake in what I assumed was a passing orgasm, and these little punctuations made me feel like the biggest stud on earth. At one point, she separated my buttocks with both hands, and began worming a finger into my anus.

"I've been neglecting your asshole," she apologized. "By the way, I'll have to ask Rima if that powder of hers has residual effects. Your dick still feels awesomely big to me; I wonder if that stuff causes permanent alteration of sexual physiology." She began to pump her finger lustfully in and out of my behind, causing me to pant as I raced closer and closer to the edge.

"I don't know, but my dick feels ten feet long right now, which may just be an indication of how much you turn me on." I began humping faster and faster as her caress of my prostate sent me out of control. "I'm gonna come in you now, and I hope you hold on because it'll be a wild ride."

"Don't hold anything back, hon. Give it all to me--I want every drop of your precious sperm." She bucked back at me just as forcefully as I felt my crisis rising, overtopping me, obliterating everything but my utter, consuming need to empty my balls into this sacred vessel who had honored me with the gift not only of her body but of her heart.

"Coming!!" I screamed, moaning obscenities and endearments and gibbering senselessly as my seminal fluid began shooting in big bursts, making me dizzy with lust and consummation and consuming delirious pleasure, slamming into her vagina in a way that threatened to tear my member from its roots, then slumping, spent, in the warm shelter of her embrace. "OOH baby, I love you so much--it's so good." I fell silent, breathless and unable to move.

I was finally aware of her whimpering and gasping, along with the silky snapping of her vaginal muscles, when I recovered my breath a few minutes later. "If we didn't make a baby last night, we certainly made one this afternoon. I've never come so hard in my life." Her voice was a purr, and I looked to see the crimson flush that still outlined her breasts and neck. "As soon as you feel able to move, we should throw our clothes back on and go to the store, so we can come back here and play some more." She pulled her finger from my ass with a popping sound, triggering a chain of farts from the air she'd inadvertently pumped into me, then squeezed my asscheeks tenderly with both hands.

"Aren't we going to shower first? We'll smell pretty gamey when we're in the store." I looked into her eyes, noting the mischievous expression in their cerulean blue.

"Shower? After this glorious sex? Hell no--I want the whole world to know what we've been up to. Remember me telling you how Trish and the rest of the gang had kind of brought me out of my shell?" As I nodded, she continued, "Well, it made me a bit of an exhibitionist. I've gone grocery shopping more than once with a buttplug holding a big enema at bay, or a tampon up my ass while a suppository or Fleet enema were wreaking havoc in my colon. One of my favorite memories was of the day I went out to the mall, to go clothes shopping, with a vibrating butt plug up my ass and a gigantic vibrator in my pussy, and they were both turned on. I was having such a good time back in the fitting room that the sales clerk finally knocked on the door, convinced I was going to shoplift the garments I'd taken back there to try on." Flashing me a bright smile, she continued, "Of course, I didn't know it until I opened the door to her, but the woman was a friend of my mother's, a very open bisexual, and when I saw who it was, I invited her in so she could see what was keeping me so long." She shivered at the recollection, adding, "She spent at least a half hour in there with me, and I must have come another thirty times before I decided on the clothes I wanted and took `em out to pay for them. But then, we spent another half hour in the fitting room checking out lingerie."

"If you keep talking this way, I'll have to fuck you again before we can even get dressed." I snaked out of her embrace and started pulling my shorts and jeans back on, looking to see if she was stirring from her bed yet.

As I eased my t-shirt over my neck, I saw her refastening her blue top and squirming into the overly tight white shorts. "On the way to the store, I'll tell you about my nastiest escapade ever," she promised.

After she eased the Lincoln into the late afternoon traffic on West 13, she took up the thread of her exhibitionistic reminiscences: "One time Trish was pissed at me because I'd flirted with a guy she'd had her eye on at a party. The next afternoon, she invited me over to her house for a late lunch, as she knew I was going on a date with him that evening. She fed me a bunch of five- alarm Texas red chili, insisting that I take seconds and even thirds, as a result of which I was feeling really bloated and gassy by the time the guy came to pick me up. I tried to beg off, but he insisted, taking me to a movie where we spent more time making out than watching the screen. After the flick, he really wanted sex, but when I told him I'd gotten my period the day before, he showed no desire to go in my pussy. Against my better judgement, I let him fuck me up the ass, and since he was out of condoms, I had his jizz in my bowels percolating with the gas from the chili. Around midnight, there was a knock at his door; when he answered, Trish, Rima, and Andy came rushing in, claiming an emergency, and forced me to get dressed and go with them. Promising to call the guy the next day to see if he wanted another date (I'd told him Trish had set her cap for him while we were in bed together), I went with them, not suspecting what was up."

Clearing her throat, shaking her head to clear her eyes of the tears of laughter and embarassment that kept threatening to break through, she concluded, "And then, they drove me to the Lawyersareasses Inn, took me into the lounge, where a very sedate crowd was listening to an incredibly bad cover band, went through my purse and pockets to make sure I had only enough money for one drink and none for cabfare home, and left me there." She shuddered, grimly recalling the embarassing moment: "So there I sat, dressed almost as I am now, in pale-colored shorts and a semi-transparent top, my nipples hard as rocks at the recollection of the great sex I'd had recently, sipping my drink while my bowels were in turmoil from the chili and the anal action I'd had just hours before. Just as a good-looking guy came up to introduce himself and offer to buy me a drink, the inevitable happened; I farted, and felt my date's come eject from my ass and into my panties, along with a mess of shit. The man sniffed the air, looked at me, and started to walk away, but then turned and asked, `Did you just fart, or shit your pants?' When I replied that I had, he asked me why, and that got us off and running on a conversation. It turned out that he was a medical supply salesman, and we went back to his place after the bar closed; he helped me clean up and we had great sex, starting with a big enema through a inflatable nozzle nozzle to forestall any further chili embarassments. He gave me my first inflatable nozzle nozzle and ultrawide colon tube, and we had a standing joke that seeing him got me so excited I shit my pants for him." We chortled over the story the rest of the way to Country Fair.

As we walked into the store, she remarked, "I'm glad you didn't fuck me in the ass before we came in here, or the seat of my white shorts would be stained now--as hard as I've been laughing, I would surely have shit out all your come on the drive over."

"Keep talking that way and I'll come in my pants," I warned.

"Ooh--that might be fun to watch." We went quickly to the canned goods aisles, laid in several cans each of smoked oysters, oyster stew, and whole oysters. "Want a really kinky thrill when we get home, while the oyster stew heats up and I prepare the batter for the fried oysters?"

"Sure--what's that?"

"Let's make a snack of spicy burritos and prune Danish. They'll make your tummy tingle, especially after I put a suppository up your butt and lock it in with a buttplug; I'll be doing the same, and I want us to be wracked with cramps before we finally release." She smiled lasciviously, adding, "And after we're done shitting, before either of us cleans up, we'll get in the tub and I'll have you poke your dick into my shitty asshole." She shivered at the depraved thought, rubbing my crotch surreptitiously as she told me this nasty fantasy.

"Yeah--I want to smear my dick into your dirty hole; it sounds like really stinky fun." I laughed at my own witticism, drawing a groan from Karen, who was looking at me with adoration and puzzlement.

"I've just never been with a guy who was as willing as you are to indulge me in all my crazy fantasies. I shiver to think of some of the depraved things we can do when we put our minds to it, and I shiver even more when I think about the kind of weirdness we'll enjoy as my pregnancy progresses." She took my right hand and held it between her warm thighs so I could feel the dampness at her crotch. "Let's hit the bakery department and clean `em out of prune Danish, then get as many of their hot burritos as we can find. We also want to get jalapeño cheddar and extra hot salsa to put on the burritos; that way, we'll experience some really extreme cramps before we pull our plugs." We searched, and we found, picking up two dozen of the spiciest burritos, five jars of hot salsa, and four sixteen-ounce packages of grated jalapeño cheddar. For a treat, I also got a couple half-gallon jugs of chocolate milk, which addition caused Karen to croon, "Oh yeah, that is the shit for soothing a ravaged tummy, all right."

The checker just blinked when she saw the crazy assortment of food we loaded on the conveyor, asking innocently, "What kind of party are you folks planning?"

"A very private one," Karen quipped, with a mysterious twinkle in her eyes. The checker just shook her head and finished ringing up our purchases. When we got out to the Versailles, Karen asked, "Do you think my idea is too crazy for words? I mean that some people might find it disgusting." She awaited my response with a little trepidation in her eyes as I helped her put the bags in the backseat of the Lincoln.

"Naw--nothing you can suggest would be too crazy for me. I have often fixed myself meals that gave me explosive cramps because I knew that the release of all that pressure would be such a major turnon. We might even want to hold off on the oyster feast until after we've milked the bowel bliss scenario to its max." I got in the passenger's seat as she stood there with a puzzled look on her face.

"What do you mean, exactly? Didn't we agree that we should do everything to make your dick as hard as often as we can over the next few days?"

"Yeah, but I think the inevitable enemas we'll have to take to cleanse ourselves after the prune Danish/burrito explosions will be enough of a turnon for tonight." I lit a cigarette, thinking hard, then a sudden realization hit me, "Did you forget about the home pregnancy test, or were you going to pick one up somewhere else?"

"Yeah--we're going out to Hook Drugs to get a couple of EPT kits and some triple-strength glycerine suppositories. Also, I decided that maxi tampons would be more fun than buttplugs for this scenario--since they're disposable, it will make cleanup easier, too." She squeezed my left thigh as she swung the car further westward on 13, inching toward my pecker, which hadn't gone down since she started telling exhibitionistic stories before we left her house.

At the pharmacy, we picked up the EPT kits and tampons, plus another package of the tight- fitting adult rubber panties she'd punished me in a week earlier, plus a half-dozen disposable Fleet enemas and several disposable douches in assorted fragrances, and several extra-large tubes of K-Y jelly and two big boxes of baby wipes. Once we paid for the purchases, we returned to her car and began the drive back east to her apartment.

"One question," I inquired as we swung out of the parking lot. "Why the Fleet enemas, when we have all that nifty equipment at your house?"

"Because we're going to each inject one with a suppository before inserting tampons; that way, when we finish our high fiber meal, the pressure will be excruciating before we release." She stroked my cock through my jeans, adding, "And that way my asshole will be ultra-slippery after I shit, so you can shove your cock up my butt as hard as you like without worrying about the need for extra lube."

"We need to get home; I can't wait to get started on this bizarre orgy of gorging and sodomozing your sweet ass. I can almost feel the crampy pain from that overload of stuff already, and the thought, sweet though it is, is nothing compared to the sweetness of the reality."

"Can we stop by my connection's for some pot first?"

"Absolutely; this will be even more fun if we're really high."

"In this case, we'll be higher than you realize; my friend just picked up a big consignment of kind bud--it might be Northern Lights or AK-47, from the way she was talking."

"Big stoned head, in other words."

"In your case, the only question is which head you're referring to."

This time, she took me inside to meet her connection: a chubby brunette with an ass even wider than Karen's. When she gave the woman, named Moonflower, the news about our declaration of love and Karen's possible pregnancy, she came over and hugged me. "This is the best news Karen has given me in ages. You seem like a really gentle spirit, Paul. I've been praying for a long time that she'd meet someone simpatico, someone not only into her sexual preferences but someone who'd care for her and listen to her, and cherish her for the sweet nurturing spirit that is Karen. What's your zodiac sign, Paul?"

"I'm an early Pisces, with Taurus rising, moon in Capricorn, Mars in Scorpio, but I don't remember the placement of my other planets."

"You and Karen should be especially compatible, as she's a Cancer with Virgo rising, moon in Taurus, and Mars in Pisces. Before you guys leave, I'll have you write down the date, hour, and place of your birth. Although I normally charge between fifty and a hundred bucks a pop for a natal chart, I'll do this one for free because I'm interested in seeing just how strong the compatibility is between the two of you." She smiled warmly, then shot an aside to Karen, "He really is a cutie--handsome in an intelligent way. Could I have a private word with you, dear?" and drew her away from the couch where we sat, taking her into another room.

I gazed around the room, checking out the art on her walls; the nature of the decorations, from Goya and Bosch reproductions to Dali prints, made me suspect that Moonflower was probably a Scorpio. The realization was auspicious, because her blessing would create a trine symbiosis of the water signs as Karen and I started our romantic bond. I was lost in these reflections when Karen and Moonflower returned. Moonflower handed me a big bong with a loaded party bowl and a lighter. "You get first hit, since you're a new acquaintance. Karen and her gang don't often bring new people in to meet me, partly because I discourage it for obvious reasons. But your case is special, and you're welcome here at any time, as long as you treat Karen right." I took a big hit and handed her the bong.

"You certainly don't have to worry on that score, because if I ever mistreated Karen, I couldn't live with myself. If something I did ever hurt her, you'd be reading my obituary in the paper the next day, because I'd feel morally bound to kill myself." I looked intently into her eyes as I said this, conscious that she and Karen were both weighing the sincerity of my words.

"I think you found a keeper, Karen. Not only is he sweet and bright and handsome, but he's also a man of honor." Exhaling after a big hit, she handed the bong to Karen. We continued to pass it around until the contents of the bowl were ashes, then the dark woman loaded it again.

"This will have to be the last one, dear," Karen observed. "I don't want the food in my car to spoil."

"Oh yes, I remember that twisted erotic scenario you and Paul have planned for tonight. You folks go ahead and smoke this; I have to get something herbal that will help you tonight. I'll be back in a minute." We passed the bong back and forth, looking lovingly at each other, until Moonflower returned with a ziplock bag containing a strange-looking concoction. "Sprinkle some of this on your burritos and I guarantee it will make you even hornier than you already are. It also increases both male and female fertility, so if the baby didn't take last night, it certainly will by the end of the weekend." We thanked her profusely, and she got up to give us a long hug before we walked out to Karen's car for the drive home.

"By the art in her house," I remarked to Karen enroute to her place, "I'm guessing that Moonflower is a Scorpio. Am I right?"

"Oh yeah. She's a scorpion all the way, too. Don't ever cross her--that dyke professor who stalked me made that mistake and wound up with a six-month bout of irritable bowel syndrome. Before she called me to apologize and promise that she was laying off the stalking, people in the nursing program were starting to call her the Depends Queen." I chortled over this as she wheeled the Versailles into her driveway and killed the engine, then jumped out to help her carry our bags into the house.

"I'm pretty stoned," Karen announced. "How about you? Do you want to smoke some more of that kind bud, then dive into the Danish while our burritos are baking, or do you just want to dive into the Danish right now?"

"I could stand to get a little more stoned, so I'll really stuff myself on Danish and burritos."

"Good plan--let's get really high, then we can go pack our asses with the suppositories and Fleet enemas and seal them with tampons before we do the colon blitz from the upper end." She loaded her elegant glass bowl (having returned Tricia's bong when we took her home from the airport two days previously) and packed it really full with the killer pot, then we passed it back and forth, occasionally coughing when one of us took too big a hit, not really saying anything until we'd finished the load. "Let's do it," she directed, and I followed her swaying rump into the bathroom, dragging the bag from the drugstore with me. "Help me lube these tampons, then we'll agitate each other's rumps." Once I helped her unwrap and lubricate two tampons, she laid them aside, snapped an exam glove on her right hand, and directed, "On your knees, lover, and spread your fanny cheeks as wide as you can get them." I complied, shivering slightly because she'd turned on the air conditioning to counteract the oven's heat. I felt a finger enter my behind; her touch was exquisite, and her expert massage of my prostate soon had my erection bursting. The finger was withdrawn, and I felt her insert the suppository, pushing it in as far as it would go; she topped this off with a Fleet enema, the cool liquid burning inside my bowels. When she withdrew the tip, she immediately pushed a tampon inside me and removed the applicator, leaving only about an inch of the string hanging outside the star of my sphincter. "Now do me," she directed.

"With pleasure," I replied. "I just love fingerfucking your cute little asshole, especially when I'm preparing it for an invasion with something bigger. In this case, it will be stuff that will churn your bowels into a frenzy, but there will be no relief for you until after you eat a huge load of stuff that will also churn your bowels into a frenzy. Are you ready for that industrial-strength suppository yet?" She nodded, her asscheeks quivering like jelly as I began to insert the cone of glycerine deep into her rectum, then withdrew my finger, took the protective cover off the Fleet enema tip, and eased it into her behind, squeezing the bottle with maximum force to send the irritating liquid into her bowels as a chaser to the suppository. I then pushed the tampon slowly into her anus, moving the cardboard applicator as I did, so that the absorbent piece was pushed high inside her; deftly removing the applicator, I noted that less than an inch of the string was visible outside her sphincter opening.

"Follow me out to the kitchen," she directed, and I followed her naked rump, tiny tampon string dangling in the crack between her cheeks like a miniscule tail, to the counter. "I'm going to preheat the oven for those burritos, if you'll put a half dozen of those prune Danishes on a microwave safe plate and nuke `em for about a minute and a half." As I performed this task, she arranged eight of the burritos on a cookie sheet and waited for the preheat light to go on. "Now that we've filled our descending colons with the suppositories and Fleet enemas, how does your belly feel?"

"A bit crampy, but nothing I can't handle." As I said this, I heard an alarming gurgle and rumble from deep in my guts; I looked over to see that Karen was rubbing her gently curving middle to circulate the laxative chemicals throughout her system. I followed suit, noting that the action of my hands caused the gurgling and rumbling to intensify. "Do you have any idea how it's going to feel when we're both stuffed with prune Danish and extra-hot burritos, though? Have you ever done this extreme routine before?"

"Not to myself, no. I once did a similar thing to a boyfriend whom I'd caught cheating on me. In his case, though, I stuck four of the triple-strength suppositories up his ass, squeezed four Fleet enemas into him, sealed the situation with the biggest inflatable vibrating buttplug I could find (it would swell to four inches diameter, and I inflated it all the way), got him really high, promising to take the vibrator out when his cramps got too bad, and forcefed him a dozen prune Danishes. Two hours later, he begged me to take the plug out of his ass, but I refused, instead fastening leg cuffs on him and pelting his ass five hundred times with a studded rubber paddle. I handcuffed him and made him lie on his left side on the floor in front of my bed, then baked a dozen of those ultra-hot burritos. I fed him six of them, smoked some more pot with him until he was nearly ready to pass out, put him in position at the foot of the bed, gagged him, and went to bed with my vibrator. Since I'd eaten the other six burritos, and about a half dozen prune Danishes, the night before, I woke him by removing his gag, rolling him onto his back, and squatting over his face until I passed the whole mess, even making him swallow some of it."

"Wow, did that guy survive?"

"Yeah--after I shat in his mouth, all over his face, neck, chest, and hair, I hosed him off in the shower, scrubbed both of us clean, then dried him and sat him down on the toilet after I deflated and pulled the plug. His dick was rock-hard when I pulled the plug, so I fastened a cock ring around it and fisted it until the head was purple, then I just walked away, leaving him on the toilet in handcuffs and legcuffs. I could hear him moaning and whimpering from the bedroom, and when I returned to the bathroom, the farting noises and whimpers had stopped. I asked him if he was through shitting, and he nodded his head silently, so I helped him up, removed his legcuffs so I could pull his jockey shorts and pants on him, recuffed his legs through his clothes, then undid the handcuffs long enough to get a shirt on him, recuffed his wrists (he was too weak to put up any resistance by this time), got his shoes on him, and slow-marched him to a bus stop about two blocks away, where I dug in his pockets for change, put the correct change in his right hand, took his wallet and the rest of his change, and walked home. I never saw him again, which is hardly surprising considering I didn't even let him wipe his ass after that humungous shit he took at my house. When I got home, I had to use the plunger and flush half a dozen times before the toilet would carry all his load away." She smiled at me as we sat eating the prune Danish, concluding: "I did hear from a mutual friend that he'd moved to San Francisco and started hanging out in leather rough-trade gay bars, so I'll never know if my punishment turned on a masochistic switch in his head or not." She ran her right hand up my left thigh, reaching for my penis, as she finished the story and we each ate the last of our prune Danishes.

"How long until the burritos are done?" I asked this with a wincing expression on my face because I was starting to experience cramps from the suppository and the Fleet enema. I also had no way of knowing how long it would take those prunes in the Danish to start working.

"About forty-five minutes. Would you like to lie down with me, and we can give each other belly rubs until it's time to feast on the spicy side?"

"I think that would be a wonderful idea." I clutched my abdomen as we stood up. "Maybe we could smoke some more kind bud, too, if you can spare it."

"Got it covered." She grabbed her bowl and stash, leading the way to her bedroom with an exaggerated sway of her jiggling asscheeks. We lay on her bed, as utterly naked as the day we were born, holding each other. She loaded the bowl after a few minutes, lit it, and handed it and the lighter to me. I drew the sweet smoke into my lungs, handed the bowl, etc. back to her, and squeezed her asscheeks while she took a monster hit. "I'll give you the rest of your life to stop doing that," she giggled. "How does your tum feel now?"

"Like I have to shit pretty bad," I admitted. "It was really hard to stuff down that last Danish. And yourself?"

"I keep feeling like I want to fart, and I have this bloated feeling in my innards. Are you brave enough to stay with me in this experiment? If not, say the word and we'll abort the mission, with no hard feelings."

"No way--I'm sticking with it as long as you can. I want to experience the feelings--all the extreme fullness, crampy pain, and finally the release when we decide we just can't retain such a gut- busting load of shit any longer." I began kissing her at her neck, trailing my lips and tongue down to her breasts, circling her nipples, and finally licking the concavity of her navel and trailing down her slightly distended middle toward her pubic hair.

"That's so nice," she sighed. "Take your hands and knead my tummy a little bit, okay? We want to get this stuff circulated through the lengths of our colons, if it's possible." I began a sensual massage of her midsection, occasionally grasping and kneading the soft flesh as she moaned and sighed, partly from sexual arousal and partly from the cramps which were beginning due to extended retention of the suppository and Fleet enema but also due to the digestion of the prunes in the Danish pastries she'd eaten. "You do realize, of course, that we'll have tremendous bellyaches by the time we eat those superhot burritos and allow them to digest for a couple of hours." She flipped onto her right side so I could lie against her spoon style as I continued rubbing and kneading her slightly distended gut.

"Whatever will we do to pass the time until it's right to expel?" I asked, feigning ignorance. At this point, she gently pushed my hands away, directed me to flip over to my left side, and began rubbing and kneading my stomach. I purred like a cat, feeling half loved to death by my sweet mistress and glorious lover.

"I thought we could fuck our brains out, for one thing. Nothing stirs stuff up in the gut like vigorous dog-style sex. I want you to get even more accustomed to seeing my fat ass in front of your crotch, because you'll be seeing more and more of me in that position, especially as my pregnancy advances and I can no longer bear your weight on my belly." She kneaded my tummy especially vigorously, and I felt a massive cramp shoot through me. Finally, I removed her hands and rolled over to circle her in my arms.

"Is the oven timer set? Will it ring when it's time to remove the burritos?" Her nod to both questions set my decision for me; I slid a hand between her legs to sample her vaginal moisture. She opened her thighs and pulled me into her, hissing against my ear as we began the slow steady rhythm of love. "It's so sweet inside your pussy," I gasped. "Every time I enter you, I feel as if I've died and gone to heaven. Never have I been inside a woman who's made me feel so safe and so right just from being inside her." I increased my pace, hearing and feeling soft little moans escape her throat, unable to keep from uttering my own grunts of pleasure and building passion. "I love you so much, Karen," I panted. "When I'm inside you, it feels like I want to stay inside you forever." Her hands came into motion then, stroking my back, my flanks, squeezing my buttocks, tickling the underside of my balls.

"I love the way you fuck me," she replied in a breathy voice. "I love the fullness I feel with you inside me. I love the way your hands stroke my body, the way your tongue seeks out all my sensitive spots, the way your dick swells even bigger at the sound of my voice, the way your asscheeks quiver whenever I touch them, even the way you fart when we've got our rhythm established and you're totally relaxed and into nothing but giving me sweet loving. Baby, I want you inside me forever." Her words, interspersed with gasps and cries, soon trailed off as we succumbed to passion: I felt her vaginal muscles ripple silkily around my throbbing erection.

I looked into her eyes; they were half-closed with passion and delight, but soon opened when she felt my gaze on her. I pulled nearly all the way out, then sank home in one tremendous lunge; her eyes opened wide, and she gasped in orgasm. I speeded up my rhythm again, taking long strokes that caused the sparks to fly from her cerulean eyes, until with a groan, I yelled, "I'm about to come," to which she responded, "give it to me," sank my penis into her vagina especially hard, and began spurting my semen for what seemed like an eternity. During this extended climax, I was crying and gibbering and groaning my delight, and when my pelvic thrusts slowed and eventually dwindled, she stroked the back of my head, making soft cooing sounds from deep in her throat. We had nearly caught our breath when the oven timer bell rang.

"So good, honey--it was so wonderful." She put a hand against my chest and gently pushed me up; I followed her to the kitchen, where she donned an oven mitt to pull the baking sheet full of burritos from the oven. While she was bent over in front of me, I knelt and planted a kiss in the crack of her buttocks, drawing her comment, "that's probably the last time you'll want to do that before we've had a chance to shower." She set the sheet on a cooling rack she'd set up on a corner of the dining table, wrapped me in a hug, and said, "There's a bottle of Sangria in the fridge, if you'll take it out and open it. There's no reason we can't enjoy our meal, even if it will give us an eventual bellyache." I opened the wine and, following her direction, extracted two goblets from her cabinets, set them on the table, and filled them.

Five minutes later, we sat in front of plates piled high with burritos, topped with jalapeño cheese and some of the special herbal concoction from Moonflower's garden, with a large bottle of ultrahot salsa opened and ready to go. "How about a toast to an enema in reverse?" I quipped, and Karen raised her glass to mine. We fell to the meal, gorging ourselves quickly, pouring more sangria frequently, and finishing the whole load of burritos within about fifteen minutes. "I'm so full," I moaned. "And it was so spicy--why did we decide to go for superhot?"

"All the better to enjoy the fullness and the cramps," she replied. Looking at the kitchen clock, she noted, "It's about seven p.m. I'd estimate that these babies will be fully digested and wreaking havoc with our innards by about ten p.m. If you help me load the dishwasher, we'll sit down and watch that new porn video Trish brought me from Chicago." She rose from the table to wrap me in a sensuous hug, kissing my lips sweetly, then added, "We can finish the sangria, smoke some more pot, and, I have a nice bottle of ruby cabernet in reserve, for whenever we kill the sangria." After helping her load the dishwasher, I watched her bent over putting detergent in (and could not resist planting another kiss on the crack of her ass), and followed her into the living room with our refilled glasses of the fruity wine after she started the dishwasher.

Karen loaded the bong and we passed it back and forth lazily as the video began. Titled Cheerleader's Bondage Enema, it opened with a high school track meet. One of the cheerleaders for the home team, a buxom blonde, had argued with her faculty advisor just before the meet, needing desperately to go to the bathroom. When the older woman refused because there just wasn't time, the girl sat sulkily on the bench until it was time for them to do a cheer for the team. She was in obvious discomfort throughout the first ten or twelve events of the meet, occasionally clutching her belly and grimacing while her classmates competed. As the rest of the cheering squad rose to cheer teammates for the final event, the mile relay, a huge grimace of pain crossed her innocent features, and when the male leader of the squad lifted her up to do a split, her fellow cheerleaders could see a huge brown stain and a lump in the seat of her pristine white panties.

The advisor saw it, too. She marched the girl into the women's locker room, and told her to clean herself up and meet her in the advisor's office in ten minutes. The girl cried bitterly, easing the soiled panties down her legs in a stall, using enormous quantities of paper to wipe the brown filth off her legs and tush, then overflowing the toilet when she tried to flush the whole mess at once. She spotted the janitor and told him about it, then finished cleaning herself up and headed to the advisor's office.

"You still haven't learned your lesson, have you?" She nodded sternly to where the janitor sat across the office from the girl, partially hidden in shadow from the indirect lighting. "Mr. Freeble told me what had happened. Susie, I could give you thirty days detention for clogging the toilet, under damaging school property, but after I spoke to the principal, we decided that you may have a bowel control problem. Therefore, you're to report to the school nurse every afternoon for therapy during your sixth period study hall, for the next thirty days." She looked sternly at the girl, who began to weep tears of relief, until she assimilated what the advisor had told her. Then a look of fear crossed her normally placid features.

"What kind of therapy?" she inquired in a shaky voice.

"I imagine that will be up to the nurse to decide, but I can assure you it will have something to do with training your bowels to function on a more normal schedule." She filled out and signed a referral slip, passed it to the girl, and said, "Remember, it's either thirty days of therapy from the nurse or thirty days of detention. And if you miss a session without notifying me or the nurse in advance, the penalty increases to sixty days." She looked at her watch, then concluded, "She's still in her office; you might want to go in and talk to her today, before you leave the campus." Smiling, she said in a softer tone, "I hope we won't have more of these incidents. You're a good girl, a model student and a girl from a good family with a bright future. I'd hate to see you blow it all because you were incontinent once." She waved the girl away to wrap up her conversation with the janitor.