Penises are very useful things - not just for nocturnal, and diurnal, pleasure - but for urination too. Not having been born with one, I often see clear advantages that Paul and George take for granted. Like just "whipping it out" when time is short. Many of the ex-military aircraft that I have flown were built with "relief tubes," small funnels attached to a hose and pipe arrangement so a male pilot could unzip and urinate while flying. Fortunately the Soviet Space Program showed us gals a fun workable solution.
This morning we rose at o-dark-thirty, to fly here to the middle of nowhere, To fight the fire as the sun rose, we aren't set up for Instrument flight, and engaged in multi-aircraft Visual in the near complete darkness to stage for the battle once day broke. Before we did, Kristin got me ready for my busy day. After a cup of strong coffee, I laid across the sturdy kitchen table with my legs spread and she used a small tube of HR to lubricate her little finger before pushing it into my urethra. Pinching the head of my clitoris and rolling it just a little, she worked her digit into the smallest and tightest of my orifices.
Her little finger was moving in and out of me and the stimulation she was providing to the bulbs located on either side of my urinary opening was driving me mad with desire. Each push in compressed them sending electrical impulses from my nerve endings to the pleasure center of my brain. Then every pull repeated the biological-electro-chemical process. I was panting and drooling and soon my overstimulated glands dumped a copious quantity of a very thin lubricant all over Kristin's hand.
Leaving me on the table recovering from my first orgasm, she went to get a small box from the closet. When she returned she showed me the items that she would use to get me ready for work this morning. There was a medical catheter, and a small stainless steel item that looked a little bit like a skinny oval beetle walking on six legs. Then, she lubricated her longer, and thicker middle finger and proceeded to unceremoniously push it into my urethra. More intense in-and-out followed with me coming again and squirting her again.
This time she used the lube that I provided to coat a stainless steel plug that was shaped like three co-joined golf balls before she inserted it into my vagina. Then she lubricated the end of the urinary catheter and pushed it slowly, steadily into the still quaffing opening that her middle finger had just vacated. Once it was deep inside, she stopped and used a syringe to fill the bulb which was now located in my bladder with water. The point was to expand it, keeping it in place to hold the tube and sealing my urethra to prevent leaks.
Over time we had dilated my hole and it now accepted the larger size catheter with a larger bulb. One that I could really feel inside me, especially once she it was weighted. She slipped the "beetle" into my slot and threaded the catheter through a hole in its center. A rubber band over the tube prevented movement and then a couple of heavy lead fishing weights were threaded over the end, held in place by the clip that prevented the flow of urine. Then she unscrewed the balls of my six labial rings, removing them one-by-one and slipping the 'legs" of the beetle through the holes screwing the beetle's balls on the ends.
My cunt was occupied, my clit head blocked from direct access, my labia minor trapped and my labia major locked into place. My bladder held a large indwelling catheter which was tied to the lock and weighted. It was a penis of my very own, not as useful as George's or Paul's, except for urinating but functional for a long work day.
