Pussy Island 02: Homecoming

Pussy Island 2: Homecoming

Author's Note: This story follows closely from Pussy Island. I hadn't intended to write a sequel, but the more I thought about it, the better an idea it seemed.

You can probably understand this one without reading the earlier part first, but it's likely better if you do. I'm trying to break myself of the habit of putting piles of recap into every story to make it stand totally on its own, so these stories will work better in sequence.

1. Coming Home Needy

I'm lying awake in our cozy little apartment in the West End of Vancouver. It's 1:00 AM and my brain is still full of all the things that went on during my week at Pussy Island. I had learned so much about myself, not only things I found myself liking that I never thought I would, but also things that I found I didn't like but never would have at least tried otherwise.

For instance, one of the things I found I liked was nudity, which is why I'm lying next to my sleeping boyfriend, Paul, totally pajama-free. It isn't so much that I find nudity to be particularly sexual, at least not on its own. It's just that I now find it liberating, disinhibiting - and just plain comfortable. For the first time, I understand why people bother to holiday at nudist camps.

I remember how odd it seemed when, on the boat ride back from the island, I saw Vancouver Harbour in the distance and had to go through my bag to find something to wear for the first time in a week. The only bra I had brought had been destroyed, but I probably wouldn't have put one on anyway. My tits, which are firm enough that they don't really need a bra to hold them up anyway, had become pretty used to being free, Ditto my pussy. I had extra panties with me, but I chose not to put them on. I could make myself legal with a light sundress, and that's all I could face putting on right then.

I could probably have learned this about myself without having had my clothes unexpectedly and forcibly ripped off as soon as I set foot in the compound, but it had certainly been a dramatic introduction to the way things happen on the island. In the three weeks since I got back, I've been naked in the apartment whenever we aren't expecting company. I checked from across the street, and during the day, even a gloomy, rainy day like the ones Vancouver tends to have too many of, the outside light reflects off our windows and acts like a one-way mirror, letting us see out but not letting others see in. Of course, the effect reverses when our lights go on in the evening, but then I just close the shades.

At first, Paul thought it was pretty weird that I stripped off my clothes the minute I came in the door, but he quickly got used to it, and started joining in himself. I like having him around naked, and even though nudity isn't particularly sexual once you get used to it, I do enjoy being able to admire his toned, evenly tanned body and well-defined muscles any time I want, to say nothing of his nicely sized and shaped penis. I often notice him admiring my well-shaped body and medium-sized breasts as well.

Paul hasn't asked me for many details about my island adventure. When I stepped off the boat and he was there to pick me up, he asked, "Well, how'd it go?" I replied, "Oh, it was very educational," and left it at that. He knows me well enough to know that I'll tell him details when and if it seems appropriate. He's very easy-going like that, and I love him for it.

When I described him as "a moderately interesting boyfriend with whom I do moderately interesting sex once or twice a week," I didn't mean to imply that I don't love Paul. I do, very much. I just wanted to make it clear why I had felt the need to blow out some cobwebs with a week on an X-rated Fantasy Island. We have a fairly open relationship, which is why Paul, who had read the same pamphlets I had, was OK with me going on an adventure that would almost certainly include being fucked in very interesting ways by very interesting men—and women, too. That sort of thing keeps our relationship fresh, and Paul appreciates that.

Sometimes we tell each other what goes on when we take advantage of our open relationship, and sometimes we don't. When I stepped off the boat, Paul asked me, "Do you need some money to tip the driver," and I just replied, "No, he's already been tipped." I didn't feel the need to explain that his tip had been me sucking him off on the way over, even though I could still taste his semen in my mouth as I kissed Paul hello.

So that brings me back to me looking at the ceiling at 1:00 AM. Images from the island keep going through my brain, and right now I'm stuck on Dave. I can't get my mind off him strapping me doggy-style into a bondage frame, gagging me so I couldn't protest, and demonstrating how being fucked in the ass can be done so it's acutely pleasurable instead of diabolically painful. The feeling of Dave very slowly and carefully pushing his cock up my asshole just won't leave me, and it keeps setting my pussy on fire. Just the thought of being helplessly bound and gagged is turning me on, to say nothing of the anal sex.

I'm so tempted to wake Paul up to help me with this problem. But I know that he's not at his best when wakened out of a sound sleep, and that's not a good time to try teaching him something totally new. So I slip quietly out of bed, go to the bathroom and shut the door. I sit on the closed toilet and start rubbing my clit, not surprised to find that my needy pussy is totally soaked with my juices. I picture Dave's cock stretching me out, filling me up, thrusting in and out to stimulate places I had no idea I had. My fingers on my slippery clit feel great, but my ass feels empty, as if it's clenching on air.

Then I notice the toilet brush in its holder next to the toilet. The handle is a bit slimmer than a penis, but it's exactly the same shape, a straight cylinder with a rounded end. There's a bottle of hand lotion on the counter, and I pump some into my hand, kneel on the bathmat with my ass in the air and my knees apart, and rub it generously around my puckered hole. Experimentally, I slip in a finger, and it feels just like Dave's finger did as he started to open me up. I slide in a second finger, and that feels even better.

I thrust my hingers in and out for a minute, massaging my sphincter to encourage it to relax and be more receptive to having things pushed past it. Then I pick up the toilet brush, lube up the end of the handle, and put it against my asshole. I hesitate—will I be able to get the same sensation as I did when Dave put the anal expander up me? Well, I won't find out if I don't try, will I?

I gradually push harder until my sphincter gives up its resistance and the handle starts to slide in. I push carefully, remembering Dave's lessons and stopping for a few seconds every time I feel a twinge of pain from a slight spasm. In a minute or two, I have it far enough inside me that I can feel resistance as it meets my colon's first sharp corner. I stop pushing, hold it there for another minute, and savour the full, stretched feeling it's giving me. Then I pull it out a bit and push it back, over and over.

I go back to frigging my clit in rhythm with the brush handle in my ass, and the sensation starts to radiate from my clit through my whole vulva and then my entire pelvic area. My breath starts coming in gasps, and I would clench my fists if both hands weren't so busy doing other things. The sensation builds quickly and then breaks over me, contracting every muscle and forcing out a stifled "NNNGGHH!" I'm careful to keep my lips pressed tight so I don't wake up Paul.

When I'm finished, I lie gasping on the bathmat, then slowly slide the brush handle out. The feeling of my asshole sighing closed as it comes out is almost as good as the feeling of putting it in.

I stagger slowly to my feet and wash off the handle in the sink, then wipe up the lube and pussy-juice that's now all over my crotch. OK, I decide. I think I'll sleep well now. I also know what I'll talk to Paul about doing tomorrow night instead of watching TV.

2. Up My Bum

The next day, I stop at a sex shop on my way home from work. Brick-and-mortar sex shops are harder to find than they used to be, now that you can order things so much more discretely online, but they aren't as rare as, say, a Blockbuster Video, and now that I've made up my mind, I don't have the patience to wait for a plain brown package to arrive in the mail. A very understanding young lady helps me pick out some of the things I'd need to have a better experience than buggering myself with a toilet brush.

I feel my pussy moistening all the way home, my bag of purchases beside me on the seat. I wait until after dinner, then look Paul in the eyes and say, "Paul, I'd like to talk about one of the things I learned on Pussy Island."

He suddenly snaps to alertness. "Do tell. I've been waiting for you to be ready to tell me more about what went on there."

"Well...how'd you like to fuck me in the ass tonight?"

Paul looks just as shocked as I expect him to. "Wow. Uh, yes! I've thought about finding out what that would be like, but when I mentioned it a couple of times, you gave me a pretty firm 'no,' so I haven't mentioned it again. What's changed for you?"

"I've always said 'no' because I tried it once with Jason and it hurt like holy hell. I had to make him stop and pull out, and I got absolutely no pleasure from it. But on the island, a guy named Dave strapped me into a bondage frame and showed me how it can be done to produce way more pleasure than pain. He had to gag me so I'd stop screaming at him that I didn't want to do it, but when he did it his way, it was amazing. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

"So...you'd like me to tie you up and gag you first?"

I think he looks just a little bit too eager when he makes that suggestion. I think about how it had felt to be unable to resist Dave's educational demonstration, and also how erotic it had been when Matthew ripped off my clothes, handcuffed my hands behind my back, and shoved me naked out the door to be forced to run from plastic bullets. Bondage is definitely something I intend to introduce into our relationship. But that would be too much, too soon in combination with our first exploration of anal.

"Whoa, tiger. That might be fun, but let's take this one step at a time. I want to be able to guide you through this, so no bondage and especially no gag, this time at least. But I'm willing if you're ok with me taking the lead."

"I'm good. I think most guys fantasize about fucking a woman in the ass for some reason. Maybe it's because it's a bit taboo or something, or maybe just that it's different. But if you're interested in trying it with me, you've definitely got my attention."

"OK then. Let's leave the dishes in the sink for now and come with me to the bedroom."

We're both already naked - see above - so we don't have to waste time undressing each other. I get on the bed on hands and knees. My bag from the sex shop is already strategically placed beside the bed, and I pick it up and spread out my little collection of devices.

Paul looks at them with interest. "OK, silicon lube. I guess you don't want your asshole to dry out half-way through. And I guess this is an asshole stretcher. But what the fuck is this?" He holds up the lube launcher.

"That's a lube launcher. Dave says you don't absolutely need something like that. You can just lube your dick and push more lube up me with your finger. But the more lube you can get way up, the more comfortable it'll be. I want to do everything I can to ensure smooth sailing."

I show him how to load the launcher, then I get back in my hands-and-knees position.

"Uh...aren't you supposed to have an enema or something first?"

"You aren't scared of a little shit, are you? It wipes up, just like anything else that leaks out after sex. People who want to be super tidy do the enema thing, but it really isn't necessary if you don't mind a bit of brown on your cock." Obviously, I've been reading up.

Paul looks a bit dubious. "Um, OK."

He slides up close behind me, his cock already hard. He squeezes his body up against me, and I feel his cock lying in my asscrack. He reaches under my body and holds my dangling breasts, running his fingers and thumbs over my hard nipples. I think, good, he's not so eager to get on with the show that he's going to neglect all the steps that help get my motor running. Although, truth to tell, my motor has been running pretty well since I first brought the subject up.

He plants a long, warm smooch on my neck, just where it meets my shoulder, and a lovely warm feeling spreads through me. That's something I didn't get from Dave, even though I thoroughly appreciated his anal demo.

Then I feel the end of the lube launcher press against my tight little pucker. He's obviously lubed it, and with only a little pressure, it slides easily up my ass. "OK, now press the plunger slowly as you draw it back out." I'm amazed at how confident I seem directing this process after only two lessons from Dave and a few articles in Cosmo. But it's all just common sense, really.

The lube launcher is all the way out now. Even that little device has given me a huge rush of adrenaline from the feel of it in my back passage. I can hardly wait for the next part. Even though it's not called into service right now, my pussy is leaking juices in its excitement.

"Now, lube up a finger and use it to start stretching me out. Don't be afraid to put in a second one if it seems like you'll have room."

Paul does exactly that, and it feels soooo much better than the handle of a toilet brush. He gets first one, then two fingers past my sphincter and starts curling them, moving his hand around to stimulate as much of me as he can. Then he thrusts his fingers in and out, tentatively at first, then more confidently. After an initial minor ouch, I feel my sphincter start to open up.

"OK Paul. Now lube up the butt stretcher."

I hear a squish of lube behind me and feel the end of the glass butt-dildo against the place where Paul's fingers had been. "Push in just the tip and hold it until I tell you to go further." My sphincter is stretched out a little more, and again there's a little ouch, but Paul does what I've told him and holds it with just the tip inside. "OK, that's great. Hold it there." I wait until the ouch subsides. "Now push it in more. But if I say 'Stop,' that means you STOP! If you don't, I'll be in agony for the next five minutes."

Oh, God, that feels good. It's basically the same device that Dave used to open me up, but I guess there's a difference having someone I love pushing it up. And maybe being in control helps, too, although I also remember enjoying the enforced total surrender of being strapped into the frame.

"Ahhh, Paul, that feels wonderful! Keep going!" He does, and then I feel a cramp rocket through my ass. "Stop right there!" He does, and I get out ahead of the brief pain and it subsides almost immediately. "OK, now a little more."

After a minute or two, I feel the safety flange resting against my ass. He has it as far up as it's designed to be. "Does that feel all right?" he asks.

"God, Paul, it's better than all right. It's as perfect as anything in my ass could ever be. Except for your cock, of course. Hold the dildo there another minute, then pull it out. We're almost ready to go live with this."

My breathing is getting fast and shallow as the dildo stimulates all the nerve clusters that I never knew I had until Pussy Island. It's pressing on my G-spot from the other side of the thin wall of tissue that separates my rectum from my vagina, and it's all I can do to hold still and not rear back to try to get it in even deeper.

"OK, Paul. Ease it out and get your cock ready for its big adventure." Paul eases it out and I feel my sphincter slowly closing around the space where it's been. It feels disappointingly empty, but I know it won't be for long.

In place of the cold, hard stretcher, I feel the tip of Paul's warm, soft-but-firm penis pressing against my anal ring. I don't need to tell him what to do any more. He pushes firmly until the tip slips in, then holds it there and waits for signals. I gasp, a little bit with pain but mostly with pleasure, as I'm stretched open yet again. How in God's name did I spend this much time on the planet without finding out how good this feels?

"OK," I gasp. "More."

The cock slides in a little more. This time, the spasm isn't a little ouch. It's a big, sudden burst of pain. Not trusting myself to open my mouth, I reach back and grab his wrist to stop the movement. He stops immediately and waits for more signals. The pain subsides quickly, and I let go of his wrist. He reads the signal and pushes more.

I feel his balls bump my pussy where it sits below my asshole. That's as far as it's going to go. I arch my back down toward the bed, throw my head back, and let out a long, satisfied "Aaaahhhh."

Paul gets the picture. He holds his cock where it is for a minute or two, then starts slowly pulling it back and thrusting it balls-deep again. Pleasure radiates up through my entire body, and I can't believe how good this feels. As my body rocks forward with each thrust, I'm aware of my breasts rolling back and forth on my chest, and the sensation blends with the sensations radiating from my ass to make a total symphony of pleasure. I don't feel any need to reach back between my legs and frig my clit: it's already on fire from the sensations crashing through my whole body. I just go, "Oh God Oh God Oh God! Yes yes yes yes!"

Paul is thrusting hard now, confidently sawing his penis in and out of me. I hear him panting deeply behind me, and my own breath is coming in rapid "ahhh-ahhh-ahhh" gasps in rhythm. The sensations swell like an orchestra building to a dramatic finish, and when the orgasm hits, I don't have to stifle it to avoid waking Paul up. It comes in a dramatic "AAAAGGGHHH!"

Paul stops and holds his cock as far inside me as it can reach, waits until I start coming down, and then starts thrusting again. It takes only four or five more thrusts until I feel a gush of warm semen fill my anal cavity, providing one final burst of sensation.

I collapse, panting, on the bed, and Paul collapses on top of me. We lie panting for a few minutes, then Paul slides his limp and spent cock out of my anus. I grab one of the washcloths that always sit on my night table and press it to my ass. When I think my anus has stopped leaking, I show it to Paul. "See? Only a tiny bit of brown. It's mostly lube and Paul-cum."

Paul has his breathing under enough control that he can say, "Oh. My. God. Samantha, that was everything I've fantasized it would be. Your ass is so tight, it feels like a hand clenching around me as if I'm getting one of the best hand jobs you could possibly dish out. Why didn't I show you those Pussy Island pamphlets years ago?"

I roll over to face him, and we are both so speechless that all we can do is fall into a long, passionate kiss that goes on and on and on. Then I say, "OK, time to hit the shower. We need to help each other get all this goo off."

3. Tie Me Up. Please.

Over the next week, we do anal every single night. We do it the same way for a couple of nights, then start changing it up. I lie on my back, grasping my knees to roll my pelvis up and expose my asshole from the front, which lets us watch each other's faces while we fuck. We do it in the shower, me bent over with my hands against the wall while we see how waterproof this silicon ass-lube really is. We do it with me bent over a kitchen chair and Paul gripping my breasts to pull me tightly back into him. Every position yields a new constellation of sensations. My asshole is a little sore much of the time, but I don't care.