Anal Rendezvous, Rectal Retreat

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

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

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

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

He pushed the five fingers into her 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 she had endured with that third dildo. But this now exceeded even that intrusion as he drove his hand deeper into her anal passage and rectum. She shivered with renewed arousal as she realized her bottom was about to be forced to take his fist. As the widest part of his hand pushed its way past her anal barrier she struggled to endure the entry, breathing deeply, biting her lip, concentrating her whole persona on this sublimely intimate entry into her body.

Suddenly she felt it ‘pop' in. She reached down to feel the spot where her anal ring now clenched his wrist, his whole hand, his fist buried inside her. 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 Ingrid's anatomy, a region she cherished in her carnal narcissism and sensual gluttony.

Now he began to rhythmically work that hand of his, that fist into her rectum, deeper, harder. Unable to resist and forgetting to ask, she brought a finger down to her pussy. But he pushed it away. Instead he now did something so marvelous and unexpected. He brought his mouth down to her cunt, his tongue to her clit, and began to lick her, lick her while he continued to fist her depths. His hand felt so alive inside her, his fingers grazing over the smooth surface of her rectal walls, intimately caressing the contours of the humid cavity, exploring its hidden depths. And then he pushed in even further, driving his hand past his wrist, so deep inside her now, his probe so intimate, and somehow so lusciously depraved as well. She felt at once a compliant object of his exploration and one graced to be so intimately fondled. She sensed every motion of his fingers within her. He was an explorer exploring a dark, alluring cave, his fingers, his sense of touch his only guide

And she would have imagined a probe so extreme to have been difficult, perhaps impossible to endure. But intensity of desire and arousal, she knew, could overcome and diminish all other constraints.

And then there was his agile tongue caressing her vulva, so very different. The Yin and the Yang. The tongue and the fist.

This mix of sensations and recognitions was volcanic, explosive. She could have climaxed at that instant, but she held back, wanting to experience more of this, much more, the delicacy of his tongue and powerful insistence of his fist. Probing, stimulating her expertly like this, the mix of the two very different gestures, oral and manual, yielded a complex potpourri of sensations, one she savored immensely.

Now she could not help herself as she brought her hands down to his head, running her fingers through his hair as she pressed his face against her raw flesh, eager for the delicious contact. Crazed with lust now, greedy for pleasure, she bucked her bottom upwards against his pounding fist. That fist was now so deep inside her it felt as though it were penetrating to the very core of her being. His tongue on her, his fist inside her, the mix was finally too much as she began to feel the welling sensations, her body quivering, pulsating, the arrow of her pleasure cascading in delirious ripples to a crescendo, a series of crescendos, her climax, her sublime, her electrifying, her delayed, her desperately neededorgasm!

As the ripples calmed and the feelings subsided for her, he slowly withdrew his hand from her humid depths, she now luxuriating in the delicious afterglow of post-orgasmic bliss. He gave her a single, tender kiss on the lips and left the room.

"I'll return shortly," he told her, departing.

He wished to give her time alone. He wanted her to refresh in her mind, to reanimate and reflect upon all she had just experienced.

When he returned she lay there, as before, still blindfolded, still in stirrups, still vividly exposed. After he had withdrawn his fist from her he could see her anus spectacularly dilated. But now it had almost completely retracted again, the sphincter definitely showing signs of all the intrusion it had endured but, still, impressively back to a relatively ‘normal' state.

"You have a healthy bottom here," he said, gently caressing the anal opening.

Now she heard him remove his clothes. In fact he was undressing. If he were now naked as she was herself, what did he next have in mind, she wondered?

He unstrapped her ankles from the stirrups and she was glad to stretch her legs and move her body. Then he removed her blindfold and now, for the first time, they were able to gaze into one another's eyes. She'd had no sight of him, and now here he was, his face, his body, as naked as she, the man who had so thoroughly probed her bottom, had made her, for the duration of the past two hours, his anal slave. And while she had been visible to him, he had not seen her eyes, eyes which he now saw were big and bold and beautiful and radiant, eyes aglow with sensual contentment.

He pressed her close to him and they smiled at one another, sharing this moment of disclosure and intimacy. Then their lips met as they kissed tenderly, lovingly, passionately. She could feel his penis hard against her thigh as it again stiffened. Boldly, she reached down to take the steely shaft in her hand, the shaft that earlier had been buried in her bottom.

"Come with me," he said, taking hold of her hand, leading her out the door to the garden behind the cottage. It was a magnificent Spring day, the azure sky crystalline, a cool breeze tempering the still warm air. The birds sang, and the sound of rushing water mixed with their songs and the chirping of crickets. The air was sweet with the scent of wild flowers.

Surrounded by this idyll, he gently pushed her down on a thick patch of grass, shaded by an old elm tree. He spread her legs wide again and pushed them back by the ankles. The effect was to lift and, again, expose her bottom. Now, once more, he slid his cock into her ass. Her smile was beatific as she sighed with profound satisfaction. They were lovers, two naked lovers, equals, linked in this sweetest of couplings. She quickly roused as he filled her with his cock, fucking her ass now with a beautiful rhythm, pounding her, hard and deep, in and out, but also twisting it inside her in a sort of figure-of-eight motion. She savored every sublime sensation, bringing her lips to his, their mouths, their hot, sweet breath fusing as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and pressed him close. She wished to contain him, all of him, his cock in her ass, his body close, hers.

And then he shifted, shifted suddenly, rolling over so that she was now on top, riding him now, her rectum impaled on his cock, never disengaging. He'd been setting the tone, the pace, the speed, the depth. Now he gave Ingrid her chance. And she boldly met the challenge, fucking his cock with her skilled rectal muscles, showing him that when it came to anal pleasuring, she was an accomplished mistress herself.

"I love this so much!" she said with a gleeful little laugh, her eyes sparkling.

"I love it with you, Ingrid. Your ass is a gift, a precious gift."

Now he looked up at her perfect breasts, above him. He squeezed those breasts, pinched the prominent nipples. They'd been neglected, her tits, but now he made amends, licking and suckling on each nipple as they fucked. Then he brought his lips to hers again and their kiss lingered as they found a perfect rhythm, she now needing to bring a finger down to her cunt again, the arousal quickly intensifying, her greed for orgasm knowing no bounds. She shook her head like a wild, free animal, a wanton slut drunk on anal pleasure.

They gazed into one another's eyes and each could sense the other was close. She let out a piercing sigh as her body convulsed and her anal muscles twitched, her orgasm, sudden, violent. And this triggered his, his cock releasing its bounty in a cascade of spasms, releasing it into the welcoming contours of her enticing rectal depths.

Afterwards, when he finally withdrew, she licked and sucked, greedily savored that cock which had given her so much pleasure. And as she sucked him, she felt that delicious reminder, his semen dripping out of her raw and violated and very content ass.

"Mmmmmmh! I'd say my ass has been fucked today," she said with a delighted, unabashed chuckle, "fucked and....fisted.... and loved!"

"I'll say it has," he said, bringing his lips down to hers for a tender, an intimate kiss.