Such a stark contrast. She was no longer in her street clothes, but a crisply pressed
white lab coat. Her breasts were full and large, accentuated by her deep cleavage.
She would occasionally lean across me to reach for something. Her body was
big and ample, soft and womanly, surprisingly so to me, and yet setting off a thousand screaming sirens in my brain.
I was lying on a soft towel on her professional examination table,
quite conscious of being completely naked in front of her and
even more conscious of being so fully erect. Did her presence create
this reaction within me or was it the sight of her double-gloving the
latex examination gloves on herself so matter of factly, or could it have
been the sight of the various nozzles or the big swollen four-quart
enema bag that hung loomingly in front of me, or the tubing, all that tubing.
The VCR flashed images on the TV screen behind her of enemas being
administered to helpless men and women in desperate need of cleansing.
She turned me on my side with the promise of an anal examination.
"Something exploratory" were the words she used, and I felt the cold
K-Y Jelly on her fingers gently beginning a probing that I could only
hope to myself, would expand into a complete prostate massage that
would open me up enough for her to show me her entire lexicon of
anal-erotic creativity.
Her gloved fingers went in and out knowingly working me, easily
expanding me. My erection was full-blown. It wouldn't take much
to go over the edge. She also knew and warned me to control myself
as she backed off with her deft finger motion.
I was drifting now and felt the strong nozzle being carefully inserted
into my anus. She instructed me, telling me to breath deeply, and the
instant that I did, the rush of warm, soapy water started running into me.
The warmth excited me, the soapy water expanded me in waves, my cock
was ready to burst until there was such a convergence of warm water
distending and impregnating me combining with the unbelievable pressure
from my engorged cock and swollen balls that finally I had no other choice
but to explode in the most powerful orgasm that I ever experienced.
She was statuesque. A woman of color, mature, seemingly aloof, yet peerless in her demeanor.
I was so intrigued, I kept fantasizing and then I was in her apartment and I found myself looking directly into her eyes. I started to feel beads of perspiration on my face. I looked away. What if she just looked at me and knew -- forced me to pull my pants down and then the admonishment, the verbal dressing down, the torrent of words softly spoken, but each one hitting me with the force of individual bolts of thunder. Such anticipatory humiliation and yet ironically combined with unbelievable arousal.
And the fear of when the ultimate will occur -- feeble verbal attempts on my part to extricate myself from this excruciating web -- and of course, so lame, to no avail.
And she reaches for my wrist and draws me to her. I try to hold back but it's already in motion. I'm pulled over her lush, warm, ample thighs -- legs that would support me and keep me from falling no matter how hard I squirm or struggle. I catch a glimpse in the mirror. Her lips are set, her eyes are intent and I see the fast image of that old-fashioned hair brush raised up high and then I closed my eyes and everything reverberated with such force the instant I simultaneously felt and heard "SMACK!"
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