RECTAL TEMPERATURE GONE BAD
It is a shame that Craigslist stopped the Personals section; even though most of it was junk, there was some of it that was valid. Such was the case with one man, and I am thankful that we turned our communication into real e-mail addresses so that our interaction could continue.
Following some idle chit-chat one day …
DRRT: So, I am going to be in town tomorrow night.
ME: Yes, I remember you told me that.
DRRT: Don’t you think it’s time for us to get together, as we have discussed on so many occasions?
ME: I must admit that I have been giving it a great deal of thought.
DRRT: Yes, I have been, too – and I really don’t know what to do or say for you to understand that there is nothing else going to happen except what we have discussed.
ME: I must admit that you have been persistent, and consistent and I really have no reason to believe things would be other than you say.
DRRT: That’s right.
ME: It’s tough.
DRRT: I know that.
ME:No, I mean it’s tough for me to agree.
DRRT: Sometimes you just have to make up your mind and go forward.
ME: Don’t get pushy 😉
DRRT: Sorry – wasn’t meant to do that – I was just being honest.
ME: I know – I just can’t believe I am considering this.
DRRT: You are? That’s a step in the right direction.
ME: I’m going to do it – but no funny stuff.
DRRT: No funny stuff at all – just as we’ve discussed.
And then there was some more chit-chat for about another 30 minutes to review the details and set the time and place – 7PM, his room at the Marriott (he would leave me e-mail with the room number that I was to check and confirm between 5-530). Now I was on edge the rest of the night and the following day, although I think I really wanted it more than I was hesitant.
I checked my e-mail at 450 and nothing was there. I was sort of disappointed and sort of relieved. I checked it again at 505 and there it was:
“I will be in room 423. I will expect that you arrive promptly at 7:00. You will knock on the door – one knock followed by two rapid knocks. When I answer the door, you will say nothing until the door is closed behind you and I have led you into the room. At that point, you will say your name and you will tell me why you have come to my room. That will be the end of any conversation unless I initiate it. Your arriving promptly as instructed is an affirmation that you understood these instructions and any prior instructions and discussions that have occurred in prior e-mail and chat sessions. Should you not arrive on time, you are not to contact me further.”
He was so stern and so very real – all of what we had discussed for about the past two years --- and now, it was all coming real. He told me not to shower or put on any perfume, although anti-perspirant was acceptable. I wanted to be casual and comfortable so I got out of my professional attire, including my white Cosabella bra and panties. Now I was naked and I used this as an opportunity to, at least, “wash off”. I know that he wanted me “natural”, but I really felt that I should wash between my legs and buttocks. I took the washcloth and ran it under warm water, and then I ran it from the trimmed hair, along my vaginal lips, and deep between my buttocks, pressing against my anus. It felt so good, and I could have spent more time, but I didn’t want to get myself overly excited – the anticipation of what was to come was enough.
I decided to dress very casual. For bra and panties, a simple white bra and brief (not bikini) from Hanes for Her. I had a light blue polo shirt from a favorite spot of mine – The Bicycle Club – and khaki shorts, some open-toe sandals for shoes. I know he didn’t want me to wear any makeup but think he really meant nothing too heavy, so I went easy on a light lip gloss and eyeliner. He also said he didn’t like jewelry, but I didn’t think he’d object to a small gold stud in each ear. Finally, my hair is just long enough to put into a loose pony tail.
I looked at myself in the mirror. “Cute”, I thought, and then I thought of how “cute” I would be as my temperature was being taken rectally … and, I almost backed out!
So – there I was headed down the 360 CoTex Loop and, shortly arriving at the Marriott, with a little time to spare. I parked my car and walked into the lobby, feeling as if everybody knew what was going to be happening to me in just a little while. I wish I knew! I think I knew, and I hoped I knew, but things had gone wrong before; somehow, I just thought this time was going to work out. I went into the bathroom and took a quick look at myself. No visible perspiration, makeup was not visible, so it was time to head to room 423. Getting off the elevator, I checked my iPhone and it said the time was 6:58. I looked at the sign on the wall and it indicated that room 423 was to the left. Walking down the hall and looking at the numbers on the doors, room 423 was the last door on the left. I stood in front of it and listened. I didn’t hear anything. I looked around in the hall and saw nothing of concern. It was time to knock.
It was just a few seconds when the door opened. He looked like his picture – a man of about 50, dark brown hair starting to grey, professionally cut. He was of average build, not a runner or athlete, but not overweight either, not quite six feet tall. He was dressed in a blue short-sleeved shirt and light grey trousers and black slip-on shoes. With a little smile, he stepped back and opened the door wider. I stepped inside and he closed, and locked, the door behind us. It was all becoming very real, although I wasn’t [too] nervous.
He led me into the room and I could see that he had pulled back one side of the king bed’s bedcovers. He stood between me and the bed and looked me in the eyes. I took a chance and figured it was time for me to speak, as instructed.
“My name is ---------------. I am here because I want you to take my rectal temperature,” I said.
Upon hearing this, he took me gently by the arm and led me closer to the bed. I could see that there was a jar of Vaseline on the nightstand along with a box of tissues, an exam glove, and a red-topped thermometer case.
“Remove your shorts,” he told me.
There was a decorative buckle on the front of my shorts that I undid, followed by opening the button and lowering the zipper. I held on the waist as I lowered them and bent forward, stepping out of them. He reached out and took them from me, laying them across a chair next to the bed.
He put the exam glove on his right hand and he opened the jar of Vaseline. He removed the thermometer from the case, held it up to read it and then turned to me, showing me the thermometer.
“This is the rectal thermometer I will use to take your rectal temperature,” he said.
As I looked at it, he continued, “You will note that it has a pear-shaped bulb, a yellow band, and a red triangular tip,” and he pointed to the various parts of the thermometer as he named them.
This was even more than I expected, but certainly well within line of what I expected, and I was beginning to feel very comfortable with him, now standing before him in my panties.
“I will put some Vaseline on my index finger and use it to lubricate your anus; then I will lubricate the bulb of the thermometer and insert it into your anus. The thermometer will remain in place for four minutes,” he continued.
As he spoke, I was becoming more comfortable and I was also becoming aroused. I could feel my nipples hardening against my bra and the warmth between my legs. Occasionally, I would involuntarily squeeze my anal sphincter. Yes, I wanted him to take my rectal temperature.
“Lie down on the bed, on your stomach,” he told me.
I was surprised, but pleased, that he didn’t want me to remove my top or bra; again, this was just as we had discussed over the past two years. I lay down on the bed and I felt his fingers at the top of my panties. As he pulled them down (and I know to slightly raise my hips) he said, “I am lowering your panties so that I can take your rectal temperature.”
He lowered my panties to my knees and then, with a hand on the inside of either thigh, separated my legs as far as the panties-around-my-knees would permit. He ran his ungloved hand along the back of my thigh and across my buttocks. Although we hadn’t discussed this, it felt good and it wasn’t crossing the line. I felt both hands on my buttocks – one was in the exam glove. He separated my buttocks and, we really hadn’t covered this, but it felt good, was even erotic, and it was sort of all related to having my temperature taken rectally, sort of, right?
He confirmed what I was rationalizing in my mind, “It’s important for me to conduct a visual inspection of your anus…” and, after a while, “…now, I will lubricate your anus.”
He released his hands on my buttocks and I saw him insert his gloved finger into the Vaseline jar. With his ungloved hand, he separated my buttocks and I felt his lubricated finger against my anus. He moved it around my anus, applying light pressure. As I was beginning to relax, I felt him inserting his finger! I tensed up – this was not part of our discussions; in fact, “penetration” of any kind was extremely forbidden. He stopped, keeping his finger right where it was and just moving it around – and that felt good.
“Please, relax, just a little preliminary examination,” he said, as he continued to move his finger around.
He was right; I was relaxing and it was feeling good. As I relaxed more, I also decided to “loosen up” and he slowly inserted his finger the full length. He rotated it left and right and then he told me to squeeze on it, hold it for as long as I could, and release. This actually felt very good. After I had done that, he slowly removed his finger. He had gotten me very aroused and I wanted him to do it again – but none of this was part of our agreement.
He had removed the exam glove and I saw him putting the thermometer into the jar of Vaseline and removing it with lubricant visible on the bulb. I felt a hand on my buttocks, separating them, and I felt the tip of the thermometer against my anus. I couldn’t help tensing up, and then I loosened up, and he inserted the thermometer. It felt so good, even though it was smaller than his finger. His hand was no longer separating my buttocks, and I sensed that he was behind me, admiring what he was seeing.
So there I was, in the presence of a stranger, panties down to my knees, having my temperature taken rectally (after just having had a finger inserted into my anus). I was getting aroused lying there and I felt that if I squeezed and relaxed on the thermometer it felt especially good. That’s also when I felt his hand against my buttocks as he gripped the thermometer and started to twist it between his fingers and move it in and out of my anus.
“Some girls like it when the thermometer is moved like this,” he said, and when he said it, all I could do is moan because he had told me not to speak. The use of the word “girls” also made me feel a bit submissive, even in my early 40s - and I liked it.
“Get on your knees, raise your buttocks,” he said.
We had not discussed this position; it was always about him taking my rectal temperature, and me having my temperature taken rectally, while I was lying on my stomach with my panties lowered to my knees. I was, however, getting very aroused and to expose myself further would feel even better.
As I was getting ready to raise my buttocks, I felt a smack on each one of them. It made me jump and it made me cry out – but not in a way indicating that it hurt. It felt good in a strange sort of way.
“I told you to get that butt up – it’s for your own good,” he said, and he smacked me one more time! I didn’t hesitate to get my butt up. I felt my panties coming down my legs and off. “No need for panties at this point,” he said. Although part of the scenario was “panties lowered to the knees”, that had been fulfilled and, at this level of arousal, having them removed was actually more erotic.
He continued moving the thermometer in and out of my anus, and I felt that I was moving in rhythm to what he was doing. He was also rubbing his hand along the inside of my thighs. We were beyond what we had discussed but, I was having my temperature taken rectally, and it was feeling good.
The next thing I felt was his finger between the lips of my vagina, and I could feel that it was very warm and very wet – and this also was NOT what we had discussed and, in fact, it was explicitly prohibited! I lurched forward and his finger was no longer anywhere near my vagina, AND the thermometer was also out of my anus.
I didn’t want to break the instructed silence, but he had crossed the line! He was, however, quick to remedy the situation.
“My apology, this was not part of our agreement but I thought you might enjoy it,” he said. I felt his hand separating my buttocks and the thermometer being inserted. This is what I wanted, this is what I liked, and this is what he was doing … I think he got the message. “Four minutes for the thermometer to register, OK?” he said, not expecting an answer any more than my continuing to lie there.
He remained behind me, or to the side out of my view, as I lay there – recovering from a state of heated but unexpected arousal and a touch beyond consent. In its simplest form, it felt good to lie there and have my temperature taken rectally. I could feel the bed move as he changed positions and he would occasionally run his hand along my thigh or move the thermometer. “Very nice,” he would mutter.
As the time approached four minutes, he stopped touching me or moving the thermometer. It felt as though he was directly behind me and his hand was on my leg. I could feel a steady motion – maybe he was enjoying the view and, could he be masturbating? I just preferred not to think about that.
I felt his hand leave my leg and the steady motion had stopped, but the bed shifted and he was standing next to me. I felt him remove the thermometer and saw him wipe it with a tissue. He held it up to read it.
“Very nice,” he said. “Your rectal temperature is 99.7°, even though you appear to be slightly aroused.”
He put the thermometer back in the case, and put the lid on the Vaseline.
“You have cooperated very well and, again, I apologize for touching you in a way that was not part of our agreement. I suggest you rest and calm down for a few minutes and then, as we agreed, you will leave,” he said.
He walked away from the bed and I heard the room to the door open and close. He was right; I did need to rest and calm down a bit, so I continued to lie there – it actually felt good to have my buttocks exposed and to feel the Vaseline between them. I didn’t want to drift off to sleep, so I just lay there about five minutes, and then I stood up. As I was moving my leg across the bed I felt a wet, sticky substance. Eeeww – could this be what I thought it was? Was he masturbating behind me and this was his cum? Now I knew for certain that I had to use the bathroom and I wanted to wash off before getting dressed. I took off my polo shirt and my bra and I stood there a minute running my fingers over my nipples and across my stomach. What I really wanted to do was lie back down on the bed, put the thermometer in my anus, and masturbate – but that could wait for later. The goal was to finish here, having had the experience I wanted (sort of) and get out of here.
I went to the bathroom and opened the door, walked in without paying any attention until I turned to the bathtub to get a washcloth on the back wall. Why do they put them there?
“OH MY GOD!” I screamed.
There he was – naked in the bathtub, masturbating! And there I was, standing naked before him!
He stopped stroking himself and pulled the shower curtain across the tub.
“Please, please, I am very sorry. I didn’t know you’d be coming into the bathroom. You got me so turned on, I had to relieve myself,” I heard from behind the shower curtain.
“Well, at least give me the privacy to get myself cleaned up – is that too much to ask?” I said.
“No, it’s not, and we didn’t discuss any of this happening this way. Really, I am sorry,” he said.
I was running the water in the sink, so that it would get warm, and also so that he wouldn’t hear me on the toilet. I didn’t flush it when I was finished – I just lowered the top. I still needed a washcloth.
“I need to get a washcloth – I’m opening the curtain,” I said, as I stepped past it to reach to the shelf. I could see that he was clearly in position and, reaching for the shelf, the top half of my naked body was easily in his view. I glanced in his direction, and he was still stroking.
With washcloth in hand, I went to the sink and began to wash off. When I got to my waist, I wanted to rinse the washcloth and continue lower. I looked in the direction of the bathtub and noticed that the shower curtain had moved more open when I reached in for the washcloth. I could see him from just below the shoulders and he had seen everything that I had done while washing off – and he was still steadily stroking.
He must have sensed that I was looking at him and he looked directly at me. I had a true “what-the-fuck” moment.
“WHAT-THE-FUCK are you doing?” I screamed.
“I won’t bother you, just let me watch,” he answered.
All of a sudden, my what-the-fuck attitude kicked in and I stepped toward the tub and pulled the shower curtain all the way back so he could see everything and I could see all of him.
“Go ahead! Go for it!” I told him, and I returned to the sink and continued washing myself.
I started at my feet and washed up each leg to my crotch. This was intentional because I wanted to save the best for last. I rinsed the washcloth again and, turning toward him, spread my legs and washed across my vagina and then between the lips, also rubbing across my clitoris (buy my orgasm was going to wait until I was HOME). I could hear him breathing through his mouth as his stroking increased. Once again, I rinsed off the washcloth and turned around so he could see my buttocks. I washed them and then ran the washcloth between them. I spread my legs and leaned forward so he could get a good view as I reached between my buttocks to wash my anus. That’s when it happened. I heard him cumming. I turned around to see him frantically stroking, his hips thrusting, his eyes closed, and cum across his stomach and leaking from his penis.
I was finished. I left the bathroom, turned out the light, and closed the door behind me. When I went to get dressed, something was missing – my panties! I couldn’t find them anywhere and then it dawned on me where they were. I wasn’t going to retrieve them. I finished getting dressed. As I was walking out the door, I noticed his wallet sitting next to the TV. There were a couple of 20s in there and a few 1s. I took a 20 and figured we were even.
Yes, I got home, and yes, I had a wonderful masturbation session in my own bed. But, the more important thing is what happened “afterwards”.
The next day I got an e-mail from him:
“I must continue to apologize for my behavior last night. I took advantage of you and I took advantage of a situation. I ask that you try to forget the inappropriate things that happened and only remember the good things that occurred. I will be back in town next month and I’d really like to get together again to show you that I can behave properly. I hope that you will consider.”
My response was:
“Not a chance.”