Anal Rendezvous - Ingrid's POV

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Another version of an an anal idyll.
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libidinal
libidinal
2,710 Followers

(Note to reader: Point-of-view makes such a difference in how a reader relates to a story, especially when one moves from third person to first, as I have here. I've decided to re--write a few of my stories, shifting the narrative to another point of view, and hopefully providing a fresh and exciting reading experience. The below is one such rewritten story.)

Anal Rendezvous -- Ingrid's Point of View

We had never met. As arranged, he had sent me an envelope with instructions. In it were directions to a cottage located in a secluded, stunningly picturesque valley, and keys to that cottage. I was told to arrive on such and such a date and at such and such a time. I was to let myself into the cottage and there would find further instructions. As I drove, I imagined and anticipated what I would experience there, though I did not know how it all would be orchestrated and allowed to unfold. All I knew was that on this day I would be subjected to extensive and extreme anal and rectal probing. It was this promise that set me eagerly on my course, that had thrilled me to the very core of my being.

The cottage was a charming structure set in a sylvan glade, a briskly flowing brook running alongside. I let myself in to find a simple but tastefully furnished entryway. On a table lay an envelope with my name on it. I opened the envelope to find a note, along with a black silk blindfold. The note read: "Proceed up the stairs to the room on the left." I climbed the stairs and opened the door to the room and my heart skipped a beat as I immediately absorbed its very special ambiance. Unlike the room downstairs, furnished with antiques and charming rustic furniture, this room was crisp and clinical. There was an examining table with stirrups, familiar from my visits to gynecologists. And a second, flat leather table alongside it. Neatly arranged on it were a wide assortment of dildos and other implements, a speculum and lubricants, and a big red, rubber enema bag hanging from a hook.

I read further: "Once you are in the room, undress completely. Then prepare and give yourself an enema with the solution I've left. One, or as many as you need to flush yourself out. Once flushed and empty, put on the blindfold. Get up on the flat leather table on elbows and knees. Then wait."

I did as instructed, removing my chic outfit, my provocative undergarments, to reveal my long, sleek, elegant, dancer's body. Naked now, I proceeded to give myself the enemas and flush myself, wondering whether I was being watched, blushing at this intimate act of preparation, cleaning myself thoroughly after flushing. Then I assumed the position demanded of me, my anticipation keen, blindfolding myself. I waited. And waited. Every second seemingly a minute, every minute an hour, the sense of time heightened by the blindfold's negation of my vision. Finally I heard footsteps, then someone entering the room. It was he.

"Hello, Ingrid," he said in a deep, calming voice.

I kept silent.

I heard him approach. Then, suddenly, felt his two hands on my buttocks. They were big hands, comfortable. What would those hands do? Would they spank me, redden my alluring, virtually perfect bottom? Would he proceed in a punitive mode? No. That is not how it began. The hands caressed my bottom gently, sensually, his moves skilled, practiced. He massaged my bottom tenderly, bringing his thumbs closer and closer to the wedge, the crevice, the crease, closer to the target, closer to what I knew would, today, be the very center of my being, my essence.

He spread my buttocks apart now and I suddenly felt exposed to his scrutiny, exposed and vulnerable. I could feel his eyes burning into my bottom, taking in the vivid landscape of my bare ass. And then I sensed him leaning forward and felt something new, felt his lips.

He kissed my buttocks, his lips covering with kisses every inch of my smooth, taut ass. Slowly, tantalizingly, his lips drifted to the center, the warm, humid space between my cheeks. I shuddered as I felt his lips on my anus, kissing me, kissing me repeatedly, lovingly. And then something else, his tongue, warm and moist, probing me. I let out an involuntary sigh as I felt his tongue glide over my sphincter. He took his sweet time licking my asshole. First teasing me with light flickers of his tongue, then, gradually, pressing that tongue firmly against my anus, lapping away at me more insistently. And finally I felt his tongue pushing itself into me, pushing against the barrier, forcing its way into my anal passage. His tongue seemed longer than any tongue I had known, stronger, more forceful as it snaked into me. And then, suddenly, he pulled away from my bottom and came up to my face, kissing me, forcing the tongue that had just probed my ass between my lips. Our kiss was passionate, heightened by awareness that his tongue, those lips had just been so intimately probing my exposed bottom.

Now he pulled away and retreated behind me again. This time I felt something else probing between my cheeks, his finger. Slowly he began to slide it into my ass, very, very slowly. I was tight but his entry was smooth, prepared, as it had been, by his tongue. I was so exquisitely sensitive now as I felt his finger enter to the first knuckle, then the second. Finally, the entire finger was wedged into my anal passage. He savored the sensation of the tight, smooth walls of that passage pressing in on his finger. And as the fingertip probed beyond the narrow anal passage into the suddenly wider cavity of my rectum, he bent that fingertip and ran it in a circular motion along this lower part of my rectal membrane. I sighed deeply, luxuriating in the utterly sublime sensations, those membranes so exquisitely sensitive to his expert touch.

And then he pulled out his finger.

Now he led me to an examining table sitting in the center of the room. He helped me onto the table on my back, lifting each leg, inserting an ankle into each of the stirrups, pulling my legs far back, jackknifing them, spreading them widely. I felt him tighten the leather straps around my ankles. My asshole was even more vividly exposed in this position, I knew, than when I had been up on elbows and knees.

Again, I felt his finger between my buttocks, probing externally, running over the anal surface, examining the ridges, I heard him pick up the jar of lubricant and, next, his finger was back in my crack, rubbing lubricant into the crevice, digging into my anal passage, his entry smoother now, eased by the slick lubricant. Once again I felt the blissful sensation of his single finger digging through my anus and into my rectum. Inside, he rotated his finger, exploring, massaging, stimulating the sensitive cavity. I had long loved and craved this moment, a finger probing my bottom, my own finger or another's. My anus and rectum, I knew, were extravagantly receptive to pleasurable sensations. And it was not just the pleasure I craved, but the intrusion, the dilation, the insistent forcefulness of entry, of invasion, even of violation of a region not designed to be so violated.

"You have a nice, smooth tight ass, Ingrid," he told me.

"Thank you," I said softly, in gratitude, so very pleased.

Then he slowly withdrew his finger and I sensed him get something. Again he brought it to my hand and let my feel it. I absorbed the cool, smooth, metallic feel of the speculum.

"This is a speculum. I'm sure you've had one inserted to probe your vagina. This time it will be inserted in your anus."

He applied more lubricant to my anus. Now I felt the hard metallic intrusion as he slid the speculum up into my ass. Then I could hear him turn the screw as the speculum dilated the passage. I felt so utterly exposed, the entryway to my anal and rectal depths now vividly stretched as those depths were exposed. I heard him click a switch and guessed it was some sort of flashlight or illuminating device he had pressed into my opening. I imagined him peering into me as I lay there helplessly, my legs in stirrups, my bottom exposed to his complete scrutiny, violating me now so deliciously with his eyes..

"The contours of your anus, your anal passage, and your rectal cavity are perfect," he told me, then slowly tightened the screw in reverse direction, reducing my dilation until, finally, he withdrew the speculum from my bottom.

"Now for further dilation," he told me, this time sliding two fingers into my ass. Again he probed carefully, sensually, deeply, his fingertips exploring the contours he had told me were 'perfect.'

"One more," he said, adding a third finger. Blindfolded, helpless, utterly exposed, my entire sensorium was now reduced to my bottom, the magical terrain where his probing fingers met my anus, my rectum. I felt so alive down there as he probed me, the sensations rich, sensual, carnal, and also somehow deliciously obscene.

Now he pulled his fingers out and I could hear him unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants. He heard the pants drop to the floor and imagined his penis exposed now, rigid, aroused by the exploration of what I liked to regard as my lusciously alluring rear end.

He slid the three fingers back inside me as he shifted his body so he stood by my face. With a free hand he turned that face to him. I felt something smooth and hard against my lips, his cock. I opened my lips and engulfed him, engulfed the rigid thickness.

With his three fingers inside my ass I sucked his cock greedily, an immense cock, of stunning girth and steeliness, the blindfold blocking all sense of vision and only heightening all other senses, those senses now at an edge of keenness. Then he moved away from my face and I could detect him turning a knob to lower the level of the examining table. Next he pressed his body between my open

legs, taking hold of his cock, pressing the tip, the big, smooth, bulbous head, against my cunt and then, slowly, smoothly, pushing it in, fucking me. And while he fucked me he used the fingers inside to press on and massage the anterior wall of my rectum, that rectum separated by only millimeters from my vagina, a thin muscular sheath dividing the two canals. With the fingers in my ass pressing into me as they were, I could feel both those fingers and his cock in my vagina, the dual sensation subtle and, at the same time, intense. I was quickly at such a state of arousal that I knew I would soon climax, and he sensed this too. But he wanted to keep my on edge, and an orgasm now would dull that edge. So he pulled both his fingers out of my ass and his cock out of my cunt.

He let my lay there for several long minutes, settling down. And when I began to wonder what would be next, desperate for his intimate contact again, I felt him come close and this time felt the tip of his cock against my anus.

He left his cock there for many long moments, pressing lightly against the raised ridge of my sphincter, teasing me. Then with a single, powerful stroke he drove in its full length as I let out a piercing cry, the sudden ecstasy of this swift intrusion too much to contain in silence. He began to fuck my ass now, to fuck it with a practiced, smooth expertise I savored. With power, with force, with stunning assfucking cock-power! That ass of mine, I knew, was a treasure. The bliss it gave me to have it probed, fucked was priceless. And to have it probed and fucked like this, blindfolded and strapped down, helpless and exposed and utterly vulnerable, heightened all sensation immeasurably.

My excitement mounting rapidly, I brought a hand down to my pussy, but he slapped it away.

"Not yet," he said sharply, insisting that he, not I, modulate the momentum of my pleasure. And so I had to endure being sodomized like this without the helpful assistance of my fingers. Always greedy for pleasure, my own fingers were reliable, intimate friends, those fingers ever available to stimulate myself, especially while I was being anally and rectally probed like this. I'd always been, since puberty, an outrageously avid masturbator. But now I could not touch myself. Now I was compelled to remain in position, ankles in stirrups, legs raised and spread as he fucked my ass at his pace, reaming out my rectum with his massive tool at his will.

And then, finally, he pulled out of me and seemed to abruptly leave the examining room. I was tempted to touch myself, but had he really left? Was he watching me? Would he approve? I thought I should simply wait, as torturous as the wait might be.

Minutes later I heard him return. It sounded as though he were removing some items from a bag he had brought with him. The examining table had a stainless steel instrument tray attached to it and now he set the items down on the tray.

He took my hand and brought it over. Immediately I surmised what I was handling, a dildo, a very large, a very thick dildo. I had seen an array of dildos when I had first entered the examining room but this one was much bigger. Now he allowed my to move my hand over its surface, to grip it along its full length. Though I could not see it, I sensed it was exceptionally life-like. But what was even more striking was how life-like it felt. The dildos I'd seen and used had been made from rubber or plastic or silicone. But this one, I now felt certain, was fashioned of leather. And that is why it felt so vividly life-like. Now he moved my hand over to a second dildo, even longer and thicker than the first. And then to a third, this one stunningly large, as thick as my wrist, almost as long as my forearm, I guessed. My heart skipped a beat as I realized these awesome intruders, all crafted of the fine kid leather, were meant for me, for my bottom, meant to pierce and force open my anus, and to fill and violate my rectal depths.

He slapped more lubricant between my cheeks, slowly working it over the surface of my asshole, then forcing more inside. I waited with the keenest anticipation. My bottom had already been subjected to extensive intrusion and probing. I'd been kissed and licked there, fingered. I'd been fucked. But now, it seemed, my anal-rectal accommodation and endurance were about to be even more severely tested.

"Your ass is mine, Ingrid," he said in a steady, measured tone.

And then I felt him pressing the tip of the first leather dildo against my already well-exercised anus. He pressed forward as I surrendered, surrendered gladly, to this next intrusion. He didn't just force the shaft inside me, but worked it in with a corkscrew motion, inch by stiff inch. My anus, I knew, was vividly stretched and I imagined him gazing down at the sight of my anal ring gripping the intruder.

"You may touch yourself," he told me.

Eagerly I brought a finger to my stiff and swollen clitoris.

He pushed deeper and deeper until I could feel the leather balls at the end of the shaft pressing against my buttocks, the full length of the shaft now lodged in my rectum. And now with an alternating clockwise and counterclockwise motion he twisted the leather cock inside me. The sensation was sublime, my inner membranes alive to the exquisite pressure. This was something no cock could achieve with its in-and-out motion. And it was something that would be difficult to bring about oneself. No, for this special kind of stimulation I needed the hand of another, his hand.

He fucked me with the dildo while I strummed my clitoris with increasing feverishness. Then, once more, he put a stop to the self-stimulation when it seemed I was close to the brink. And pulled out the dildo.

He repeated all this with the second, thicker and longer dildo.

Finally, he readied to use the third on my. Once again he let my fondle it, wanting my to take in the stunning dimensions of this massive probe. I marveled at the sheer outrageousness of its dimensions. True, I was a well-practiced anal fetishist, though this instrument was well beyond any I ever imagined probing my bottom. But I was mesmerized now, in his thrall. As he put it so simply and so correctly, my ass was now "his," and whatever he wished to do with that ass, however he wanted to probe it, whatever he sought to insert into it, that was his decision, and his alone. My obligation was simply to submit to his anal and rectal ministrations.

And so now he pressed the tip of this third and most massive dildo against my hole. Then he pushed forward and a chill ran through my as I immediately felt myself being dilated as I never had been before.

"You may bring your hand down and hold it," he said to me, and I reached to grip the shaft, a shaft so thick my fingers could not get all around its circumference. To grip it like this and to appreciate its massiveness while he forced it into me only enhanced the thrill, the deep arousal of our deliciously obscene intimacy.

As before, he corkscrewed it inside me, inch by thick inch. As spectacularly thick as it was, its length was equally formidable. And slowly he forced that length into my rectal depths, forced to give way to this outsized intruder. I wondered whether I would really be able to endure it. But I knew that to fail would disappoint him, and disappoint myself. Yes, there was a measure of sharp pain initially, a feeling of intense pressure and fullness, mixed with the pleasure. But, for me, all those added sensations somehow stimulated the pleasure, deepened it.

And so gladly I not only endured, but indulged in this yet most extreme of anal invasions.

"May I touch myself more, may I masturbate?" I asked, hoping it was acceptable for me to ask.

"Yes you may," he told me as, still gripping the shaft with one hand as he kept pushing it into me, I brought a finger down to my pussy once again. And once again he repeated the ritual, reaming me with the dildo while I played with myself until he sensed I might go over the edge. Then, abruptly, stopping me and withdrawing the dildo from my depths.

Empty again, I wondered what, if anything, was to follow. Did he have on object still larger with which to invade my depths? He did, but it was not what I imagined.

Now he squeezed yet more lubricant onto my asshole. This time it was not an instrument he forced into me, but his fingers. He slid in three at once, then a fourth. Then added a thumb. Immediately I sensed what he planned now. I had fantasized about this, this most extreme of anal violations, and now I was certain I was about to become its willing victim.

He pushed the five fingers into my anus to the first set of knuckles, then the second. And then he pushed further... and further. Just moments earlier it had been difficult to imagine dilations greater than I had endured with that third dildo. But this now exceeded even that intrusion as he drove his hand deeper into my anal passage and rectum. I shivered with renewed arousal as I realized my bottom was about to be forced to take his fist. As the widest part of his hand pushed its way past my anal barrier I struggled to endure the entry, breathing deeply, biting my lip, shaking, gasping, quivering, starting to sweat, concentrating my whole persona on this sublimely intimate entry into my body.

Suddenly I felt it 'pop' in. I reached down to feel the spot where my anal ring now clenched his wrist, his whole hand, his fist buried inside me. The hand, the hand! What is the essence of the human body? Some would say the brain, the eyes, the mouth that speaks. But an argument can be made that it is the hand. The essential human organ. It constructs and designs. It points and gestures. It crushes and strikes. It caresses and fondles. And today his hand, in all its guises, was reaching in every way for that special region of my anatomy, a region I cherished in my carnal narcissism and sensual gluttony, a region usually most private and concealed, but now utterly exposed to his shocking intrusion and violation -- the hot, humid cave of my rectum.

libidinal
libidinal
2,710 Followers
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