Laura sat in the bathroom her panties around her spread knees and her fingers strumming wildly at her hard responsive clit. She bit hard on the wash cloth she had surreptitiously placed in her mouth to keep her moans limited to a level that no one else in the apartment might hear. Finally, thankfully she heard the front door slam and knew she was alone.
"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"
The first fuck propelled the contrived gag across the room, the second doubled her over as the tremors that she had fought so valiantly to control exploded from her womb down through her cervix to rush like tsunami along the walls of her vaginal canal. The third was true expletive, harsh guttural and indistinct, an animal cry from a face that looked more tortured than pleasured as the full force of her climax exuded from her body in a stream of viscous fluid. She lay back against the cistern fighting for breathe, her heart beating like a janissaries kettle drum, pounding fit to burst the fragile membrane in her ears like so much tissue paper. Her left hand found the anal plug lubricated and waiting and leaning forward to a squat she slid the red silicone monster easily into place.
The plug had arrived by courier a few weeks earlier. First a text telling her to wait at home, then a knock at the door and a package send overnight without a return address. Her first impression was that the plug was too big, that her ass would never accept such a stretching. She was wrong, totally wrong and within two days was wearing her gift from the time her husband left for work till a few minutes before his return. At first she felt self-conscious, imagining that somehow her clothes were transparent and any and every one could see the red stopper at her every move. Soon her ass was jammed at every opportunity, inside the house, outside the house, causing her to smile continuously. Acquaintances even asked about her knew found confidence and good humor, she simply smiled mysteriously and squeezing her buttocks together produced an even wider grin and secretive delicious shudders.
What might have been a downside of her sexual awakening, her husband's sudden interest in her new not so subdued personality had been easy to adapt for her own amusement. Invariably in the evenings he was intoxicated, almost incoherent but apart from a penchant for physical violence that she found arousing a mediocre to poor lover. Laura soon realized that during his wildly uncontrolled missionary fucking she could easily so arrange the position that unknowingly his good sized cock was thrust into her ass rather than her vagina. This was satisfying on two levels, firstly because his redneck nature would have been disgusted had he realized and secondly because it allowed her to indulge her new found anal fixation whenever desired.
Laura's visits to Doctor Karu had become biweekly treats in an otherwise mind-numbingly repetitive social life. Both the Doctor and Anya were welcoming and lustful, expanding her understanding and expertise in lesbian lovemaking exponentially. She has evolved from her originally restrained participation to firstly an equal collaborator and now an instigator. Prior to her last visit she had purchased a rather splendid leather harnessed strap on dildo and on arrival at the clinic had taken great delight in using the phallic substitute on both Anya's pussy and ass. The Doctor was so impressed with her sexual progress she had even shown Laura the compliment of dropping to her knees and being face-fucked intermittently between Anya's penetrations.
Still though Laura yearned for her still mysteriously unseen seducer, the instigator of her every foray into the erotic and bizarre. The curtains of the world of carnality had been opened to her and she desired his continued direction in her explorations more and more. It seemed an eon since her taste of submissive compliance in the long grass by the pool but her appetite thus whetted was gnawing at her body and soul. Each morning she woke hoping for a text or sign, each night she lay under her husband's heaving sweating form wishing it was her maestros throbbing cock ravishing her ass.
The note must have slid under the door sometime between her husband leaving and the plug seating pleasantly in her sphincter. Her hands shook as she picked it up, a strange precognition that unfolding the foolscap sheet would set in motion a wondrous adventure.
"Third booth back in the bar on the corner at noon. Dress like a whore."
Laura momentarily panicked. It was ten already and that only gave her two hours to get ready mentally and physically. Dress like a whore? Her mind switched to wardrobe mode, running her inner eye across the clothes she had to choose from. Then she giggled realizing that the one consideration that hadn't presented itself was not to go.
"Obviously I just have just to dress according to my nature!"
Simply called 'The Tavern' the bar was a typically blue collar dive, servicing both the workers from the adjacent steel mill and the numerous bikers that cruised the area. Laura had never dared enter before, condemning a single woman going into such an establishment alone as either easy or looking for clients, now as she stood just inside the doorway in her short leather skirt, low cut red tank top and four inch black patent stilettos she suddenly felt quite at home. The interior was dark and smoky, the only bright lights were concentrated on a small stage at the far end that accommodated a very well used looking stripper's pole. The booths were on her left, the long straight bar to the right and counting down the booths she was happy to see a reserved ticket on the table in the third back. The bar was surprisingly totally empty apart from a rather worn looking barmaid polishing glasses absentmindedly. Laura toddled over to the bar in search of a nerve settling shot and was met by as transparently uninterested a smile as she had ever see.
