Part I

By KinkyintheCntry

It’s 12:00 and I’m meeting Natalie at 6:00 today. The anticipation energizes me as I set off into the woods behind my house to exercise the dogs before setting off to the City. As we walk I visualize bits and pieces of scenes Natalie and I have done before. That’s not quite right. I don’t seem to be able to stand apart from the scene and watch us, I remember what I saw, or saw in my minds eye when my eyes were covered, and try to feel what I was feeling.

Back from our walk, I shower and shave, then head for the train. I get to Grand Central with a few minutes to spare. Now I’m really anxious to be at Natalie’s, but however much I want to rush over there, I make myself wait so that I arrive exactly on time. 6:00!! Natalie buzzes me in. I walk up the stairs and wait for her to open her door. Now that I’m here I’m calm, a million miles from every care or worry in my life. Natalie welcomes me, and I follow her through the parlor into the Room. It is just the living room, but now, for me, it is the Room. She is wearing a dressing gown over what appears to be a white satin corset, with black stockings and shiny heels. We have known each other a long time, so we share bits and pieces of news. She asks me what I’m in the mood to do. I tell her, as I always do, that she can create the scene as she likes. Of course, after all this time, she knows my likes and dislikes as well as I do, and as varied as her talents and interests are, she always stays within my restricted (by her standards!!) limits. The knowledge that we each have needs the other can’t fill is one of the strengths of our long friendship.

She orders me to undress. I sit in one of the Queen Anne chairs framing a small table and remove my shoes and socks. I stand and slowly remove shirt, trousers, underwear. She watches as I place them on the other chair. When I am naked she motions me to turn in a circle. “Wait.” Natalie leaves for a minute, then returns wearing a white nurse’s dress. The dress is mostly unsnapped, revealing her white corset. With her dark hair, fair skin, perfect features, and voluptuous curves she embodies the fantasy nurse. She carries a large clear rubber enema bag to which is attached the balloon nozzle. She hangs the bag on an old fashioned music stand she takes from a corner, spreads a pad on the upholstered bench and looks me over. Again.

There is a little laugh in her voice as she speaks, “I’m going to have fun with you in all sorts of ways. Some may be fun for you, too, but that doesn’t matter. I’m going to do them anyway. First, though, you need to be thoroughly cleaned out. Lie down here, with your butt on the pad.” I lie on the bench as instructed, and wiggle so that my rear is centered on the pad. I close my eyes and hear Natalie walk over to the cabinet by the wall. I can hear her setting a few things on the counter, and the snap of gloves as she puts them on. Now I feel hergentle touch separating my cheeks and she spreads lubricant around my opening. She teases for a few minutes, inserts a finger then removes it. There is a slurping sound as she squeezes more lubricant from the tube. She probes me again with one, now two fingers, spreading the lubricant inside me as well as outside. Her fingers withdraw, and I feel the narrow end of the tube enter me. The deflated balloon is much larger than even her two fingers, but she has lubricated it generously and she is gentle and patient as she works it into my bottom. With my eyes closed, I concentrate on the sensations, already surrendering, unembarrassed by the secret intimacies I have never been able to share outside her twilight world.

There is no pain, only a tiny discomfort as the wide part passes. A squeeze bulb inflates the balloon. Oh! “A too much!” She lets a tiny bit of air out. The pain eases a little. A click, and I feel the warm water beginning to flow. “Put your hands at your sides.” I open my eyes as I feel her stocking against my side. Natalie straddles the bench and settles herself on my face. I’m under her, pressed tightly between her cheeks, my nose and mouth up against the rough fabric of her thong! Heaven! My face is in heaven, even as the first cramp hits me below. My hands are mostly pinned against my side, but I gesture and Natalie mercifully massages my belly, helping to move the water and ease my cramps. I’m not sure how long this goes on, but it is unimaginably sweet torture.

“Good boy! You’ve taken it all! Do you want to get up?”

I do, but I don’t. I am suspended between heaven and hell. Being beneath Natalie like this, breathing her most intimate essence, is the stuff of perfect fantasy. And in my fantasy, I would prolong it forever. But she has poured almost 4 quarts (I think) of water into my colon, and my colon is definitely not enjoying the fantasy. I struggle to prolong this part as long as I can, but finally I signal, perhaps a little frantically, with my hands that it is time. Natalie eases herself off of me and returns to the end of the bench. I can’t see what she’s doing between my legs, but I feel the balloon deflate. She cautions me that she is about to remove the nozzle. She tugs, I relax a little, and the nozzle comes free. I clench to prevent anything else from coming free, and head for the bathroom.

Part II

While stretching several more times to be sure that I am truly empty, I turn on the shower. Today, for some reason, it seems to take forever for the water to get hot. As anxious as I am to get back to what is in store for me next, I wait. It’s finally warm enough, so I carefully wash myself, and rinse off with the hand spray. Enemas, at least as Natalie does them, are fun, anal play is high on my list, but even the idea of a smelly, dirty bottom is a huge turn-off. I wrap myself in a towel and walk back into the Room. I’m not quite sure why I wrap it around myself here, since I know we are alone. Only once has there been anyone else there. In the first place, I’m not modest, and in the second, it was Nikki, Natalie’s on again, off again lover since long before we met. Nikki never joins us, although that time she sat on the love seat and made suggestions as Natalie and I did the various things we like to do together. Nevertheless, I always do.

Natalie has taken off the nurses dress. In her white corset, which she tells me is new, and custom-made, with her dark hair and dark stockings, just seeing her excites me. She has slightly rearranged the furniture, and tells me to put my towel over the padded back of her leather sofa. She takes something from a basket by the window. It is some kind of nylon line, and I know what that’s for. I stand at attention in front of her as she unwinds it, then loops it under my scrotum and winds it around my balls and penis. I am very excited, and I swell a little more, making the binding almost painful. She pats the sofa, and, as I’ve done many times before, I lie lengthwise on the back, my rear just at the end. She cuffs my wrists, and ties them to one leg of the sofa, running the clothesline along the back. She then cuffs my ankles and ties them to the leg at my feet. I can move, although there really isn’t anywhere to go, balanced as I am on the padded bar. Once upon a time we did more advanced restraints, and once, in my woods, a rig which suspended me in the air, giving Natalie unlimited access to everything underneath. Last summer’s surgery to repair a ruptured disk has made me a little reticent to be that adventurous, so here I am shackled to the sofa.

I shift around a little bit to try to make myself more comfortable. I close my eyes again. I concentrate, to integrate my physical and psychological predicament. The sensations from my tightly bound package pressed between my belly and the sofa intrude constantly into my consciousness. My rear feels completely open and exposed, available to Natalie for pleasure or pain, stroke or strike. I drift, waiting her choice. I don’t have long to wait. Slap, slap, … A volley of bare-handed spanks, alternating between cheeks in no discernable pattern. “It is too inviting, and too pale. I want to see a little color here.” More spanks, then a caress, and still more. Natalie knows me well, they are only hard enough to make me squirm, and jump a little, doubtless nothing compared to the beatings of her fantasies she fulfills with other friends. I don’t enjoy pain, but the suggestion that she can inflict as much, or as little, as she pleases takes me deeper into the feeling of surrender that has linked us all these years.

Now she is busy behind me again. I know that she’s preparing her toys, but I try to stay in the moment. Her fingers lubricate my opening again. My position on the sofa must keep me wide open, because she does not use her other hand to separate my cheeks. Something hard presses into me, but I close up again immediately. Pressure, then something slightly larger enters, and again I close. It is what I think of as her beads! A plastic toy (it’s purple) which looks like a string of beads, each one a little larger than the last. One, two, three more, then she pauses and gently strokes me. A firm tug, and two or three pop out. The sensation is exquisite!

This game goes on, I don’t know how long. Neither of us says a word. I am completely focused on the unpredictable sensations, the pattern that is no pattern. Slight discomfort as she inserts it further and further, the beads growing larger and larger. Tiny pains and then relief as she pulls it out again. What is she thinking? The voyeur in me likes to fantasize that she enjoys the picture of me opening and closing, that there is pleasure in this game for her, too. The exhibitionist is thrilled to be so completely open, and fantasizes an audience of other women, thinking their private thoughts as they watch this incredibly intimate act.

With a flourish she pulls it out entirely. I’m empty, but only for an instant. She presses a larger, hard object into me. I expand, the clamp down again on the narrow part. It is just a butt plug. I am expecting Natalie to toy with it, or perhaps resume spanking me, but I’m in for a surprise.

“Do you feel that?”

“Feel what? Oh!” There is a slight tingle in my bottom. She does something and I feel something pulsing there. It doesn’t feel like the balloon, but it seems as if it’s moving. I don’t know what she’s doing, but now the pulse is very strong. My sphincter twitches with the rhythm, or at least I think it does. I’m not sure whether anything is really moving, or if I’m imagining it. Natalie laughs, “Are you ok?” “Yes.” Whatever it is she makes it stronger. Now I am sure that my asshole really is twitching. “What?”

“My electric butt plug. The smallest one. I knew you were ready for it. Do you like it?”

“Yes. What else does it do?” I stop thinking again, and let myself absorb the sensations as she plays with her little electronic gizmo. I’ve read about these things, and they used the TENS on me in physical therapy, but the things this does in my ass are too different to describe.

Finally, she takes it out. “You’ve been a very good boy.” She is releasing my cuffs, and helps me to stand up. Reaching down, she unties the line binding my dick. “I need to pee, please.” The combination of 45 minutes or so of continuous stimulation, and the enema water doubtless absorbed through my colon have filled my bladder overflowing. When I return, she has laid a towel on the floor and is loosening her corset. As hot as she was in the corset, the picture as she puts it aside and stands in just panties and hose is the stuff of my dreams.

“Lie face down on the towel.” I turn my head and watch as she steps into her harness and fastens it around her waist. She chooses a dildo, fits it into the harness, and covers it with a rubber. I feel her kneel behind me, urging my legs apart with her knees, and then once again lubricating my rear hole. I close my eyes and relax as she gently inserts the plastic dick, slowly urging it into me until I feel her against my cheeks. She lowers herself onto me, pressing her breasts into my back. This is heaven. The dildo is just large enough for me to feel a little full, and it presses slightly against my prostate. Natalie’s perfect warm flesh presses me into the towel. I don’t have to do anything, just go with the flow as she slowly, gently fucks me. After a while my hips start to move to meet her, but I feel no urgency, just a sense of surrender, and serenity. Natalie’s sense of timing is wonderful. She stops, well before I will begin to feel sore, and, as slowly as she entered, she withdraws.

Part III

Natalie stands up. An idle thought crosses my mind, “How does she move so gracefully in those heels?” Heels, clothing in fact, are not among my fetishes, but there is no doubt that Natalie’s choices heighten the eroticism of these times together. I stand up, watching her remove the harness and dildo and set them aside. Neither of us speaks, leaving our kinky intimacy delicately hanging in the air. I am satisfied, in a peculiar sense, having surrendered into an act about which I fantasized for years before actually experiencing.

Natalie was not my first, but she is surely among the best, and our experience together,

and her sensitivity, makes this strange coupling nearly match the fantasy.

She gets a fresh towel and spreads it on the sofa, then reclines on it and offers me her right foot. I fumble a little with the buckle on her shoe, remove it, and carefully set it aside. I’m smoother with the left. Now her stockings. I gently roll them off, relishing the feel of her legs as my hands brush their length. Making sure they are untangled, I set them on one of the upholstered chairs by the mirror. I turn back, my heart skipping a beat. Natalie holds up her hips. I hook my hands in the waistband on either side and slowly, reverently, slide her panties down and off.

Sweet torture. Natalie knows that I respect the boundary between us. She knows that I will not violate her trust, that, without her direction, my hands will not go where my eyes are drawn. I fantasize that the restraint is as hard for her as it is for me.

She relaxes, closing her eyes. She is beautiful, her pale, perfect skin, her shapely body, everything heightening the erotic atmosphere. I touch her shoulders, lightly, with just the tips of my fingers. I draw them down her sides all the way to her feet. Sometimes, if she’s ticklish, she will giggle, but not today. Her breathing is slow and peaceful. I massage her feet, firmly, but not forcefully, right first, then left. I work my way up, kneading her calf. She opens her legs as I work my way up her thigh. My eyes are irresistibly drawn to the heavenly spot between them, but my fingers do not stray. Now the other leg. I maintain a light touch as I move back and work my way up her left leg. I move up to her body, my hands caressing her stomach, her ribs, then her breasts. As much as I would love to linger there, I do not. I move up to her shoulders with a firmer touch, massaging the muscles of her neck, her arms, right, then left. Now a light, teasing touch with the back of my nails, trying to make my movement unpredictable, over breasts, stomach, close to her treasure, then down to her feet. A smooth, firm touch up again, all the way to her shoulders.

Natalie opens her eyes and smiles. Levering herself up she turns over and lies prone, her face resting on her hands. I begin again at her feet, kneading my way up to her cheeks. I linger there, gazing once again into forbidden places, then work my way up her spine, pressing in small circles with my thumbs. Again I work her shoulders and arms, then caress and stroke her body, sometimes light, sometimes firm, occasionally bending down to caress her with the warmth of my breath. Some days I encourage her to masturbate, and sometimes she does, leaving me with a curious combination of joy at the intensity of her final pleasure, and of jealousy, since I am not the cause.

I don’t know how long I continue, working up and down her body, soft, hard, fingertips, nails, trying to be unpredictable, reading her relaxation, her excitement. Her head rests on her hands. Now she shifts, reaching with her left hand in a sign that elevates my already fast heartbeat. I gently separate her flesh and lightly run my tongue up one side, down the other, teasing, tantalizing her, and myself. Her hand reaches, presses the back of my head. I begin to lick that most secret and forbidden place, softly, then harder as I hear her sigh.

She turns onto her side and sits up. We hug, quickly, then she stands and pats the sofa, indicating that I am to lie down. I do so, eyes closed, hands at my sides, imagining time slowing down, prolonging our finale. I hear soft sounds of Natalie’s preparations. I relax my body, but the sexual excitement built up over almost two hours of play has my mind in another world.

Once again, as we began an age ago, Natalie straddles me. This time there will be nothing between us. She squirts some lubricant onto her hand. Her fingers, two, I think, penetrate my bottom hole. She settles onto my face as I begin to slowly, lightly, lick her.

Now I am entirely in heaven. My senses are overloaded, her weight pressing down on me, my tongue up and down, back and forth, teasing her clit, her fingers massaging my prostate. Her knees pin my arms to my side. Natalie’s settles down on me. Her fingers probe deep within me. At intervals, I feel her warm breath on my cock, teasing. My senses are overwhelmed by the essence of Natalie. I see nothing, but my mind’s eye is full of her beauty. Suddenly she rises, climbing off me and hurrying to bend herself over the padded arm of the sofa. I move behind her and fill her. Only in appearance have our roles switched. In this position our bodies join perfectly. In and out, taking my rhythm from her, I stroke. I’m lost in our little world, concentrating entirely on the increasingly urgent messages of her body. My hands on her back feel the sudden heat as she nears her peak, and then she gasps, her contractions gripping me, milking me, in a way that I can’t resist.