A Morning with Donna

I actually met Donna through the ‘net. I advertised for a partner, she responded to my ad, and we corresponded for a time, and finally met. Donna is one of those fine people who love to experience new things, and when I proposed enemas to her as an exciting addition to her repertoire of sexual enjoyments, she agreed, even though she had never received an enema. At the same time, I suggested that she might like “fisting,” because she loved the experience of having her internal organs stretched. She was a bit afraid of this, but I told her that I would only do what she could handle.

So we met.

Our first meeting was mostly coffee and talk, and we sat in her living room near the beach and discussed everything - our interest in natural healing, her business ventures, the car I planned to buy - everything about life. She sat across from me watching my eyes play over her body (she wasn’t wearing a bra), and smiling her little half-smile, knowing that I was turned on by her openness, her “experiment with me” attitude. She’s a lovely girl, dark hair and beautiful eyes, a good kisser, with a warmth and kindness that just pours out of her, and about midway through our conversation, she offered to show me her “bag of toys.” So we sat there as she showed me the nipple clamps she liked, the dildos, the restraints…I was getting hotter and hotter (but as always, a model of self-control, wanting to use those things on her, to play, to control, to dominate - but it just wasn’t time. So I offered her a massage.

She grinned (she LOVES massage), and we found a suitable spot, complete with massage oils (or good substitutes), and I watched as she quickly shucked out of her clothing - large breasts, nipples (brown); pubic hair (dark) - and a “Do you like me?” smile, which I returned with a kiss.

“Which way do you want me, Dr. S.?” she said, “On my stomach or my back?”

“On your stomach is fine, Donna,” I replied, noticing with pleasure how she laid down totally relaxed, her legs spread, ready for me to… I began with her shoulders and neck area, and used my hands to massage her upper back.

“OH! That’s great!” she said, grunting a bit with the pressure of my hands, but loving it. I massaged down her back, stopping about the waist, and transferring my attention to her feet, bringing little shudders as I squeezed and kneaded her feet to bring blood to them and loosen the muscles.

“Oh, Dr. S.!” she said (actually, she said this a couple times, as I touched and caressed her lower legs). Finally I was done with the upper and mid-back and calves. I began to work my way up her thighs, and much to my delight, she spread her legs, inviting me to reach up, not only to the tops of her thighs, but beyond. I touched her buttocks, and found them completely relaxed. I gently separated them. She moaned quietly in anticipation. I reached down into the area where the thighs come together, and gently began to rub her vaginal lips. We both knew that “massage” at this point was a euphemism for foreplay. I took one of the oils she had, and dribbled some on my hand, and then her anus, and began gently to put my fingers inside her vagina.

At the same time I played with her anus with my other hand. She spread her legs even further apart, inviting, wanting. I separated her lips, and felt her wetness, her vagina ready for me. One finger in her vagina. Two. Three. Soon I had four fingers in her vagina, and I was gently opening, thrusting, filling her with my hand. Then I also had two fingers in her anus. Thrusting. In and out. Then (VERY gently) a third. Now I was working on her with both hands, gently, knowing that I was stretching her a lot, but firmly, sensing that she wanted more. Much more.

I soon had most of my hand in her vagina (except for the thumb, which I was using on her clitoris), and she began to come from the pressure fore and aft, and the massage. I was hard as rock, listening to her rhythmic groans, her gasps of pleasure/pain, pain/pleasure, trying to resist me, not wanting to resist me, trying to relax, not able to relax. She came that way, lying on her stomach, moaning and shuddering, me standing above her, filling both her holes, but not quite able to get my fist into her.

I withdrew my hands, and we cleaned up. Afterwards, I pointed out: “You know I almost got my entire hand in you…”

She replied, “I know. I thought it would hurt, and would be unpleasant. I only tried it once before, and it really hurt.”

“I stopped before I began to hurt you, Donna. I’m always careful, and the first time especially so.”

We agreed to meet again, and I promised her a good cleaning out when we met next time.

We kissed, and I departed, still thinking about the way her vagina felt, almost big enough for my whole hand. “Next time!” I thought, thinking of how lovely she looked with her legs spread, and her soft lower lips open, inviting.

Thinking of how she would respond to the enemas I would give her. Very soon.

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