Despite the rare air that some of the exotic women and their friends and lovers, and of course their husbands now and again breathe on this board (I am completely fascinated to read about them, by the way)we are all products our experiences. As a little boy, the very first of my memories were that 2 kids from the area-8th grade took me out in a field and molested me. What was odd, I remember that I knew at the time was that they were Jehovah’s Witnesses. That had a lasting effect on me and to this day, I can’t see men as sexual exiting to me, although I do admire a handsome specimen for the aesthetics. All my friends share my passions for the sports that we participate in, and we share a love and admiration and passion for women and the female form in all the magnificent forms and shapes that adorn our world.
But I think about it now…I don’t know if the negative experience in that field so long ago didn’t put me on a path to experience anal feelings as a preteen; to experiment with an enema and find the need to masturbate? Hard to say, however, I do remember a friend confiding in me that he was alone with a girl that we both knew and the gist was that “She said not in my pussy; made me rub Vaseline on my dick and told me to put it up her butt!” That story happened to fascinate me and I couldn’t get it out of my mind; I occasionally fantasized about it. When I actually began to talk with girls alone and then begin to date and eventually kiss and pet, none of those things entered my mind at the time, only the thrill of being close to her; them.
Fast forward to an active sex life in college, and an occasional finger in the ass of my lover; some of them loved it and some of them didn’t. I gravitated to those that liked it. I was introduced to anal sex by a young woman who wanted more than a finger. As I gravitated more and more towards anal erotic women, one woman who was older than me and an LVN decided that I should feel the same intensity that she did and asked me if she could use a vibrator on me. Wow! A whole new world opened up and she would put that up my ass when we sex. But when we had anal sex, those vibrations were electrifying and I used to have awesome orgasms up warm tight ass. Still all of this time, the enema was a very private kink that was reserved just for me.
In my late 20’s and I found a lovely woman who was everything that I ever wanted. She had a hot rear-end in more ways than just very shapely. Besides great sex, we enjoyed adventure. One occasion saw us camping on the south fork of one of the clearest rivers in North America. We were all alone and one afternoon after skinny dipping, I got my fishing pole out and began lure casting in a good area to catch something. She came up behind me and gave me a hug, her ample breasts buried in my back. She backed off and I heard a sound that was vaguely familiar yet foreign. I said, “What are you doing?” and she said, “I’m douching.” I asked, “Because you love it when I eat your pussy?” she giggled her sexy giggle, and I added, “You also like my finger up your sex ass when I do it huh?” She challenged, “I want to see what you think.” Suddenly her shy douche nozzle was pressed against me and she was about to discover just how electrifying that was to me, as she squeezed river water up my ass. Even though it was cold and I always preferred very warm enemas, my cock became rock hard. She cooed, “Ooh you like that don’t you?” I groaned, “I really liked that!” as she reached around me and began to jack me off. I came in her hand almost immediately and she pulled out her douche and wiped her cummy hand through the crack of my ass and then stuck the douche nozzle back in and she slowly fucked me with it, saying, “Would you ever want to feel the real thing?” I said, “No baby, just you.”
Our sex lives got better and better. Then she got pregnant and our daughter was born. Our lives changed. Our sex lives matured as we matured. We made the conscious decision to quit smoking pot when she got pregnant, and we never smoked it again; later in life edibles would be fun! Ok here’s the point: Although that incident on the south fork of the Smith River has on occasion caused me to think about what the real thing would feel like, it is simply a rhetorical question that I have no fantasy of ever trying to fulfill.