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This story is just a bit of fun. I hope you enjoy it and vote for it. If you do like it please tell me. More important. If you don’t like it I would like to know why, so that I could do better next time.
Enjoy, and have fun.
The rules are simple.
Safety. Only safe practices are allowed. Partners may do what they like, but if they choose to involve others then barriers must be used.
Secrecy. We all wear masks so that our identities are concealed. Normal garb is nothing except a dressing gown and a mask – although those with special fantasies sometimes dressed differently.
Sight. We take part because being watched, or watching others turns us on.
Social. We are a friendly group. We are not into pain, abuse in any form. Everything is consentual. Yes means yes. No most definitely means no. There is always a safe word, and the safe word means stop immediately.
We do not publicise ourselves, but from the above rules we refer to ourselves as ‘Four S’ or sometimes as ‘S Quad’ or ‘The Squad.’
We meet regularly at the (No! Of course I am not going to tell you its name.) Hotel. Usually on a Friday evening. Since the tourist trade died around here the hotel owners are very happy to increase their trade, and our hotel has a private wing that was mothballed until the Squad found a regular use for it.
Simon and I were there. February had been bad. We had had busy days, well in fact, busy weeks. We were hoping that the month that had just started would be easier. We were there to relax, to cuddle, and just to enjoy the sights and the sociability. We had glasses of beer – alcohol is permitted, but drunkenness or drugs are not – and we were just wandering from room to room, chatting to friends, watching the activity, and occasionally giving each other a hug or a kiss.
Secrecy again. We might have friends in the Squad, people who we would regularly amuse or be amused by, but we would not acknowledge them outside the hotel if we recognised them. Inside the hotel we were Bob and Alice – our masks and our dressing gowns bore the names – Simon and Angela, my real name, were never used there. Although we enjoyed activity in a group, we had, in fact, only ever been really intimate with each other – although being watched and exciting others made it better.
We heard voices, encouraging excited voices. We followed them and a group of half a dozen folk were standing round one bed in a twin bedded room. Pete was there with his partner, Molly, who was presenting him with her naked bum. Pete was gently pushing and pulling on a bright pink string of silicone anal beads. Molly was grinning, moaning and encouraging. With his other hand Pete was dripping clear lube over the beads, which were sliding in and out ever faster and more easily.
“Ready?” Pete asked.
Pete withdrew the string, placed it on a waiting towel, and picked up a larger thicker toy, a sort of stepped butt plug like a child’s drawing of a Christmas tree. He lubed it, and presented it to Molly’s waiting pulsing hole. The first step slid in easily.
“Hold it still” Molly said.
Pete held it as Molly rocked back and forth against the toy, forcing a little more inside each time. With a slight gasp from Molly, and a gentle cheer of encouragement from the watchers, the second step of the toy disappeared inside.
“Good my love” Pete asked.
“Wow, Yes. Wait a bit then pull it out and in again.”Molly replied.
Bobs hand was inside my dressing gown and he was fondling my bum Looking round the room I could see that most of the couples were doing intimate things to each other. I stroked Bobs dick, and he was clearly excited.
I could now hear the lube slurping as the plug slid in and out. Two steps were easy now, and with each insertion Molly was pushing back, trying to engulf the third step. Around the room, dressing gowns were slipping from shoulders, and breasts, including mine, were being stroked and tweaked.
“H’ray” There was a cheer as Molly pushed back and the toy slid further into place.
Pete picked up a small vibrator and held it against the base of the plug. Molly squirmed and squealed.
“Oh God, that’s amazing. “
She tried to hold still but the sensations were agitating her. She was panting. Her hand came back and grasped the base of the plug, and partly by pulling, and partly by her natural bodily pushing she expelled the plug. Her anus was gaping.
“Get yourself in there you Bastard.”
Pete obeyed, and placed his penis against the gaping hole. He pushed. Nothing happened. He withdrew, and smeared a generous gobbet of lube around the head of it. Then he tried again. He pushed gently but this was not enough for her. She pushed back against him and in seconds he was balls deep within her.
I am not sure what happened next. Simon had found my clitoris with his finger and my attentions were upon him There were now two couples lying across each bed, I laid Simon on the floor, and straddled bahis firmaları him, grinding myself against him until he gushed his sperm into the deepest parts of my cunny. I came as I felt him arching and twitching.
For those who are concerned about such things I have to assure you that we had placed our beers in safe places, we did not spill any, and consumed the remainder of it when we had finished fucking each other silly.
The next morning, as we drove home again, I asked Simon if he wanted to try anal sex. He said that he associated it with priests and choirboys. (His family had been very religious. He did not talk about it much. Now we are both happy and confirmed atheists.) He did not really answer my question.
The card read:-
“ALICE WOULD LIKE TO EXPERIENCE ANAL SEX. WOULD SOMEONE WANTING TO SHARE THE EXPERIENCE LIKE TO CONTACT US. PLEASE
THANKS IN ANTICIPATION
BOB AND ALICE”
Simon a.k.a. Bob pinned the card to the notice board. It was a week after Molly and Pete’s performance.
People wishing to try new experiences would often pin up cards like this. Interested people would take the card, and envelopes addressed to the posters would contain answers.
We had to do stuff – you know, the sort of things that spoil weekends – on Saturday so we were just visiting the Squad for a few hours and returning home. As we were leaving I was surprised to see that there was already an envelope addressed to me on the notice board. I took it.
Was I scared? Did I really want a strange person’s dick plunging up my arse? Molly had enjoyed it, but would it hurt me? I delayed opening the envelope and hid it in my coat pocket until I was sure. I wanted to think. I wanted advice.
Now I have told you about the secrecy – only aliases are used in the Squad. We had no idea who most of the other folk were. Molly however was different. It was Pete and Molly who invited us to join the Squad. We knew them from before. We had all worked for the same company, but since then we had changed jobs.
Simon was away for a few days at a client’s site. I had a day off work. I looked in our old book of phone numbers. After some hesitancy I rang her.
“Hello” I called her by her real name. After the usual pleasantries I said
“You can say no of course, and forget all about this call, but can I talk to you as Molly?”
“Where do you live?” She asked.
I told her.
“Can we meet at …” and she suggested a shopping centre a few miles away.
“Yes, can I buy you lunch?”
“No need, but if you want something… At about oneish? Outside … ” and she suggested a bookshop.
We met. We found somewhere to eat. On the menu was – no, I’m sure you are not interested. We sat in a private cubicle in the restaurant and chatted quietly. Over coffee I told her how exciting I had found it, and that I was interested in trying it. She just grinned.
“And you are afraid … ” she suggested, correctly.
“If you do it right, its great. Get it wrong and … its a pain in the proverbial.”
“So what’s right?”
“Easy! Relaxed, slowly and sloppily. Lots of lube. Start small and let it get used to the idea.”
“As easy as that?”
“Relaxed is not always easy. Sometimes it just does not happen.”
The waitress wanted to clear our table, so we paid and left. Molly led me into the bookshop, and to a shelf in a rear corner. She took a book off the shelf and handed it to me.
“I’ll be getting a reputation here. You are the forth person I have recommended this to.”
Molly’s grin was lovely.
“Pay for that. I’ll see you outside.”
She led me out of a side door of the shopping centre and into one of the service streets. It was all dustbins, fire escapes and staff entrances. At the end of the street she turned left and guided me into a sex shop. She guided my purchases, and I left with various goods carried in a supermarket carrier bag that Molly just happened to have in her pocket.
“I really should ask them for commission.”
A few minutes later we had returned to the car park, hugged and said goodbye. She said
“Keep in touch”
which pleased me, and then I was fighting the traffic again.
Soon I was sitting in our bedroom with the book, the carrier bag, and the envelope. I opened the last of these.
IT WOULD GIVE ME GREAT PLEASURE (I HOPE) TO EXPLORE NEW PASSAGES WITH YOU. IF YOU REALLY WANT IT THEN I SUGGEST THAT YOU PREPARE YOURSELF AND WE MEET AT THE SQUAD ON FRIDAY 31ST. I HAVE COMMITTMENTS BUT WILL BE THERE AT ABOUT 11:00.
CONFIDENTIAITY IS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME. I WILL ASK BOB TO BLINDFOLD YOU BEFORE WE MEET.
I did not know of a Nemo in the Squad. Who could it be?
I opened the book and started reading. As I read I relaxed. What I was preparing for was so lovingly described. The author, a woman of course, seemed to know all the questions I was asking myself. She answered them. Basically kaçak iddaa the book said the same as Molly. Slowly and sloppily and relax, relax, relax.
Start by getting used to the feeling of things ‘down there’. Go to places normally only touched by toilet tissue. Have a shower and wash yourself there. Get used to it. Use the suds to help your finger explore inwards. Any discomfort and stop. Only go as far as it feels good to go. I read a bit further, but realised that I was not absorbing what I read. I put the book down and turned the shower on, to allow the water to warm up. I undressed.
It felt odd to be in the shower in the afternoon. Our routine was an early morning rush of showering, making and drinking coffee, dressing, and searching for the bits and pieces we would need for the day and of course, hunting for keys. I was unhurried. I let the water spray over my boobs. I had never stopped and realised how good it felt. I squeezed out some shower gel, and rubbed it over them. As my fingers passed over my nipples I realised how hard and sensitive they were.
I could feel the water and suds flowing over my belly, and I followed its track with my hand. My pubic hair – no, I do not mess about with razors or chemicals – were awash with soap, and I ran my fingers through it, relishing the feelings.
I turned my back to the shower head, and the water felt scalding at first against my back.
I don’t want you to think that I had never washed myself down there before – but it had always been a rushed one-two with a soapy wash cloth or sponge. Now I was doing it and making myself aware of the feelings.
One finger slid up and down against the crack of my buttocks. It was not comfortable, it was jerky. What was wrong. I realised, and raided the shower gel again.
That was better. Sleek and slippery. A little more pressure and my finger was sliding between them. Harder – deeper – better. Nearly there! Now my finger was resting against it. I was feeling the wrinkles with my finger, and the slight pressure from my finger with my bum. Yes, it felt good. I wriggled my finger. Good. Then not so good.
The shower had washed all the soap and suds away and my finger no longer slid. It poked.
More gel, and I turned to face the shower. I rubbed my gel laden fingers behind myself again, Now that was better. My finger explored and searched. It slid and probed. Its tip slid inside. There was resistance. It felt as if I was pushing into … into …
You know the ordinary rubber party balloon. You know the bit where you blow. It is a little rolled rubber ring. It may not be romantic or sexy, but that is just what I could feel as my finger probed.
I remembered the message – relax. I tried to do so. What was the other bit I had read. I wasn’t concentrating when I read it. What was it? …
Oh yes. Relax and push a bit as if you were poo-ing.
Press, relax, push, strain a bit, relax.
The little rubber ring got larger. My finger penetrated further. And further. Deeper.
Gosh. I had my finger pressed right into my anus. I wiggled it. It felt good. The tightness of the ring round my finger reduced. What was my finger tip feeling? Something gentle, soft and caressing. My wet back was getting cold, so I turned my back to the shower again while my finger pressed and wriggled, withdrew and plunged. I realised that my other hand had somehow found its way to my clitoris, and that I was almost out of control.
I took a deep breath, slid out my finger, rinsed myself, turned off the water and wrapped myself in a huge towel. I rubbed myself dry. Still wrapped in my towel I left the shower room and got into bed. I picked up my book again.
An hour or two later I had emptied out my carrier bag across the bed. There were a collection of toys – butt plugs and beads. My toys included those that Molly and Pete had been using. There was also a set of a slim, a less slim, and a thicker butt plug. Each was gently pointed, growing to a broader section, with a thinner stalk and a broad flat base.
Was I ready for a butt plug? I held up the thinnest. I compared it to my finger. It was not a lot thicker, was it?
Lubrication. Molly had chosen a bottle of thick clear goo. Of course it was sealed and wrapped, and it was a pig of a job to get the wrapping off. I squeezed a drop of it onto my hand. I touched it. It was beautifully slippery. I sniffed it. Nothing. What was it made of. I looked closely at the bottle. It seemed that it was mostly water, but I was assured that it was non-staining and tasteless.
I tasted the bit on my hand. The label was right.
OK. This was it. I squeezed the bottle over the thinnest plug. Too much! It started to run down the side of the plug and I had to juggle with it to prevent it dripping onto my towel. I smeared it round the plug, and its smoothness and slipperiness encouraged me. More lube for my bum? I now had a lubricated plug in one hand and the bottle in the other. I had to balance the plug on my bedside table to free up a hand to allow kaçak bahis me to apply the lube.
Oooh, that slippery finger felt good again. In a bit? Yes. Deeper, Yes, Yes, yes. Oh it felt good. Am I ready now?
I picked up the plug again and tried to find a comfortable way to lie while steering the plug into myself, while avoiding wiping its lube off onto the duvet and towel.
It was there. A slight push. Wow. With no effort is had slid half way in. Pressure. Slide. A slight resistance? Did it hurt? No it wasn’t pain, just an incredible fullness. Another push, and it was in. My anus was around the thin stalk. It was hardly stretched at all. I could feel something deep inside myself, and I could feel the plug’s base pushing my buttocks aside.
Relax. Relax. Relax. How did I feel? It felt good, but not as good as …
Yes, I pulled at the base of the plug. Resistance at first, and then release. Once more my bum was stretched around the widest part of the plug. I tried to keep it there, but it wanted to slide one way or the other. What I needed was …
I pushed the plug home again and tried to sit up. The pressures inside me were strange and interesting.
I picked up the second plug, and smeared it with more lube. Then I lay back again and pulled. The slim plug slipped out, and before I could change my mind the second plug was taking its place. It felt enormous. I pushed. In. In. In. So far, but no further. I was so full. The stretching felt wonderful. Wait.
I remembered, strain as if poo-ing. Push again, strain again. Oh God it was nearly there. Oh God Oh God, O God. Strain. Push. It was there. Yes. (Now why should an atheist say things like that?)
Lie still. Relax. Concentrate on what I am feeling.
What am I feeling?
The fullness, the pressure. And now the slippery finger on my clitoris. Smooth, smooth, rub, rub, tickle tickle, oh, oh, oh, jerk, twitch, moan.
While I had orgasmed the plug had slipped out.
I felt wonderful and happy and exhausted and empty …
… and sleepy.
The phone woke me. It was Simon.
He had had a long day. The customer was an idiot but he seemed happy. He had taken Simon for a drink, and now it was late.
I looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven.
Simon apologised, told me he missed me. Said goodnight, and rang off.
I did not tell him about the butt plug and bottle of lube that lay beside my leg.
I was hungry. I tidied things up. Put on slippers and a dressing gown. Made a sandwich and a G&T for myself. Slowly, contemplating what had happened I slowly chewed and sipped.
I wasn’t afraid any more.
But what about Simon. What did he think. Did he really have a hang up about it? How would he react when another man penetrated his wife.
Should I go ahead?
Simon had returned. I had showed him the letter, had told him about Molly and the toys and my experiments. I had hoped that he would be excited by it, and perhaps help me to prepare myself, but he did not.
I thought he was upset about it, but he said not.
He left me alone with my toys, but I noticed that they were sometimes not quite where I had left them. He was interested in them perhaps. Of was he frightened of them?
It was the 31st. We had both been at work all day. We arrived home. We both decided to freshen up before we got dressed to go out. I again asked if he was sure. I said it might be better to stop, but Simon said “No, it was just nerves.”
We normally drove to the hotel, but Simon rang for a taxi. He suggested that I take my toys and lube with me. I put them into an overnight bag.
The taxi came. We travelled there in silence, but Simon, beside me, sought my hand and squeezed it lovingly.
As we walked into the hotel Simon asked me what safeword I had chosen. I hadn’t, and looking at the departing vehicle said,
In the hotel we undressed and donned dressing gown and masks. The management always supplied a light buffet, simple finger food such as sandwiches, sausages, small pies, strips of various vegetables, bits of cheese and the like. I wanted something. I decided that I wanted something to drink, but nothing strong. I found some fruit juice to sip. I ate a sandwich. We wandered from room to room, hand in hand. I think that we were both too preoccupied to really enjoy what we were watching. I was watching the clock mostly. There was a long case clock at the end of the entrance hall. It struck the hours and quarters. To me, it seemed to be moving too slowly.
Eleven o’clock arrived, and I tensed in preparation, but nothing happened. I looked round the room, but there was nobody new. Only people I recognised. They were enjoying themselves. They could have no idea what was in my mind.
Eleven fifteen. A single discrete chime from the clock, at least discrete to everyone else I suspect – but to me it was loud and piercing.
Ages later – it was half past the hour. The chime was louder than ever. Nemo, whoever it was, was not coming. I would not have to go through with it. It was a stupid idea in the first place. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Nemo, for releasing me from my ordeal.
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