Jasmine S First Day At The Clinic

Jasmine wished she could take off her top: rubbing her boyfriend's cock between her big, sun-bronzed titties was the perfect little tease before oral sex. Much more exciting than just eyeing her substantial cleavage.

Right now, though, they were in the back of a taxicab and all she could do was unzip his trousers and quickly bend her head down over his lap.

"Ohh!" he moaned as she expertly took his full 23 centimetres in her mouth and down her throat, "I'm going to miss you while you're at the clinic."

"I'm going to miss you too, Alder!" she tried to say, but it only came out as humming and grunting.

He couldn't be naked either, which was a pity: she knew the perfect way to slip a finger in a boy's bunghole (even if he claimed he "didn't do that!") and massage the prostate to the perfect semen-fountaining climax. So, with lips and tongue and head bobbing up and down, she began to work the only intimate part of his body that could be exposed.

"You're perfect just the way you are," he gasped, feeling his hips begin to thrust involuntarily, "You don't need to lose any weight." For emphasis, he stroked her left breast with one hand and her meaty right buttock with the other. Her nipples showed how aroused she became when she gave head -- one of the many reasons he considered her *perfect.*

She ignored the flattery and only moved faster, making him call out her name, then catch himself, not wanting to distract their driver. He finished with a strangled whimper, pumping jet after jet of his liquid love into her mouth.

She swallowed hungrily, fast, then slow, then nursed patiently on his softening penis, coaxing out every last drop from his balls until he sagged back, exhausted, and she released him.

"I'll miss you, yes," she said, sitting up and straightening her clothes primly, "But I'm doing this for me, not for the boys who look at my body on the beach." She leaned over and kissed him, giving him a taste of his own sperm, "I'll think of you every night!" By now, her nipples had relaxed, were not showing their outlines through her blouse.

"And you'll be thinking of all those hunky physical therapists and swim instructors, too," he laughed, knowing her appetites, "I know you. You can never get enough cock! Just so long as you come back to me in the end." His voice had a trace of pleading.

"Of course I will," she said, more serious now, "You know whoever's cock I taste," she licked her lips, "I'll always be yours! And you," she said this for emphasis, "*You* will come visit me as often as you can, young man. I haven't found anyone else who can produce anywhere near as much cream as you can." And when you visit, she thought, I'll be able to take your cream in every orifice, as many times as necessary to make sure *you* won't be thinking about somebody else when *you're* alone.

"Does that mean if you can find some eighteen-year-old hunk mowing the grass or cleaning the pool who can cum five times a day regularly that you won't need me anymore?"

He didn't hear an answer, because she called out, "Oh, I see we're here!" and gave him a last kiss before getting out of the cab. Her breasts were warm and soft as she hugged him. She just hoped none of her pussywet showed. Would someone at the Demeter Foundation really be capable of cumming five times in one day? How could he get any work done?

When Jasmine stepped out of the taxi there was a handsome, deeply tanned middle aged man there to greet her. He was impeccably dressed in a light wool suit and wore a blue necktie with the stylized bare-breasted, big-hipped image of the goddess Demeter, or at least that was her guess, since it was the Demeter Foundation she was visiting.

The taxi had let her off some distance from the main building, right in front of a small brick and fieldstone marker with "DEMETER" carved in Romanesque letters. Two women were on their knees tending roses, irises and bluebells that grew in a neat bed at the base.

"Good afternoon, Ms Jasmine," the man said, extending his hand, "I'm Florian. I hope you had a pleasant trip."

"Tolerable," she shook his hand as she watched her boyfriend help the cabbie remove her luggage from the trunk, "But why not drive up to the building?"

"Oh, I'll take your suitcases," he said as he generously tipped the driver -- using actual money, rather than a phone app -- and picked up her two bags. She gave her boyfriend a hug and watched him get back in the cab.

As she and Florian headed out onto the brick path which wound through the manicured lawn, she said, "It's still a rather long walk." Even though she wasn't carrying anything but her purse, he had to slow down so she could keep up.

"Exercise, dear. That was one of the reasons you're staying here, yes?"

"Oh." She glanced back at the two women. They were bent over, their overalls stretched tight over their broad round behinds. One looked up and smiled cheerfully at Jasmine from under a floppy straw hat. Jasmine could see her nipples outlined where her large breasts pressed against the sweaty lilac T-shirt. The other was concentrating on the trowel in her left hand. "They're doing that for the exercise?" The woman's right hand was in between her legs. For a moment, Jasmine thought the bent-over woman was tracing her fingers along the curves of her genitals, two mounds of a cameltoe in snug blue denim.

"The sun and the fresh air too," Florian responded, "We have many hobbies and activities you can participate in here."

Jasmine's hand reached behind her and rubbed her left buttock. She found herself making comparisons. "I hope I can start slowly."

"Of course. Ah, here we are!" The walk ended at a well-kept brick building. A young man wearing a white T-shirt and grey sweats opened the door and ushered them in. "Ren," said Florian, "Will you take Ms Jasmine's luggage to her rooms, then meet us in the director's office?" Ren said nothing, but nodded, gave both of them a toothy smile and headed out, hefting her suitcases easily in his muscular arms.

The director proved to be an elegant gentleman of about thirty who looked as if he'd been born in a suit. His tie was the twin of Florian's.

"Please be seated, I'll get these formalities over with quickly." He sat, not behind his utilitarian metal desk, but at one of the five comfortable armchairs in a circle beside an old-fashioned fireplace. Florian took another. When Jasmine sat down in the chair provided for her it felt quite roomy, even for her bulky frame, but rather low to the ground. She had to keep her legs tightly together and hold her skirt down to avoid feeling that the two men might look directly into the opening between her thighs.

"We hope you'll find the regimen satisfactory here," the director began, "There are numerous activities, though we encourage the more *active* activities. We have exercise programs, from simple walking tours up to thorough workout routines in our weight rooms and gyms We also make provisions for massage. All of our -- oh, here he is!" Ren had just returned and took the armchair next to Florian. "Ren is both a fitness trainer and a fully certified massage therapist. Most of our staff are one or the other."

"He's to be my trainer?" Jasmine asked as Ren sat down next to her.

"To start," the director replied, "If the two of you get on well together you can continue, or you can consult anyone else who strikes your fancy."

"It all sounds quite nice," Jasmine began to relax, even loosening the hold on her skirt, enjoying the thought of Ren's eyes on her body more than the other two men's. "I'm wondering if there's a 'but' somewhere?"

Though Ren wasn't looking up her skirt, now his eyes shifted from Jasmine's face to her hips. Jasmine blushed.

"But," the director smiled, enjoying a quick look in the same direction, "Your diet is the one thing we cannot be flexible about. We'll consult with you, of course, but you are here to lose weight and without the discipline of calorie control that would be impossible."

"Of course," Jasmine was forced to agree, "Discipline, yes."

"And it goes without saying that everyone here, staff and guests, must adhere to our standards of body positivity."

"Meaning watch your language?"

"Precisely! Both verbal *and* nonverbal communication. I'm so glad you understand the need." He stood up and walked over to the window and looked out at the few people walking down the garden path. "People do not always present their best appearance when they are exercising, or even when they are relaxing and soaking up the sun."

"I assure you I know how they feel." She glanced at Ren again. He was looking at her heavy thighs and she imagined he was actually getting a trace of an erection from his voyeurism. She moved her knees closer together.

"There are, in fact, some areas that are clothing optional here. If that is awkward for you, don't worry, the facilities are extensive and you won't lose out by staying where people are required to be properly covered."

"I'm not a prude. I'm also comfortable with my body."

"Excellent! Ren will show you around the place and then see you to your room, unless you have any questions?" The three men stood up.

"Oh, no. Except," she paused, "If you could get me out of this chair?"

Ren and Florian each took an arm and helped her to stand. By now she was certain Ren had a definite bulge in his sweatpants.

He was a perfect gentleman, though, escorting her around the grounds like a tour guide, walking through the tennis courts and gymnasiums, the social room and library. At the third swimming pool they came to, she saw the first "clothing optional" sign.

A dozen women were in the pool with three trainers. Two of the women were swimming laps. They were substantial women, hips, buttocks and breasts straining in flower print one-piece bathing suits with the Demeter logo. But the others were even heftier, moving awkwardly as they worked through a series of water aerobics exercises. About half wore swimsuits, either one-pieces or bikinis, but the rest were entirely nude, bodies glistening in the afternoon sun. Their breasts swung as they moved, floating in the warm water, nipples peeking out above the surface as they bounced.

The trainers were two firmly muscled young men and one young woman in tight speedos. They guided the group through their movements, only rarely touching them, and then only chastely on the arm or shoulder.

Jasmine watched curiously, looking at the women's pubic hair swishing, buttocks heaving as they stretched and twisted.

"Their training has hardly begun," Ren remarked, "And already they are easy with their bodies. They are," he paused and looked, "Very beautiful." Jasmine looked to the trainers, but couldn't made out if the bulges in their speedos were erections or just the effect of the body-hugging fabric.

"Hmm," Jasmine was thoughtful, "What else is there here to see?"

There was a sunroom, empty now that the tanning fanatics could sprawl outdoors by the pool. There was a small indoor swimming pool with half a dozen hot tubs surrounding it. There was a large stone building that served as a dining room and kitchen. Jasmine looked in a window and saw the oak tables and antique lamps giving a feeling of a medieval inn to the place. The door was locked.

Jasmine laughed. "Keeping us away from the food?"

"The Demeter Foundation has no magic potion, just," Ren smiled, "Exercise and eat less!" He nodded towards the main residence, a long, low building built of modern glass and white brick, "Shall I take you back to your room?"

"I always like it when a man asks me that," she laughed and took his arm.

It was a short walk, but she had done so much walking that day she was a bit out of breath and starting to perspire by the time they reached her door. She was surprised when he took out a metal key instead of an electronic card to open her door. "Privacy," he responded, as if he could hear her thought, "Nobody can get inside your rooms unless you admit them. This is the only key." He handed it to her as he opened the door, "Please don't lose it!"

"Rooms?" she asked.

"This is the sitting room," he indicated the sofa, armchairs, low table and a counter with a coffee maker and small fridge. Following her eyes, he opened it, there was only bottled water and diet drinks.

"The bedroom is through there," he pointed to a doorway at their left. She saw a king-sized bed and a luggage rack with her suitcases. King sized? Perhaps some of their guests needed the extra room? She ran her hand across her ample belly. Or maybe other guests had boyfriends who visited?

"The bath is there," he pointed to a closed door next to the bedroom door. "The massage room," he walked to their right and opened the door next to the counter and turned on the light, "is in here."

The massage room was spacious and brightly lit, both from the soft LED ceiling fixture and the large window with frosted glass. There were towel racks and a small cabinet in light-colored wood. The massage table was the largest and sturdiest Jasmine had ever seen, a firm pad on a thick slab of the same wood, supported by six steel legs painted spotless white. A solid step-stool provided access for anyone who might have trouble climbing up.

"Our guests often prefer a private room to relax," Ren explained, "So every suite has its own. Also, since our guests may take a massage after exercising, it's convenient to be close to their own beds if they prefer to," he paused, as if he wanted to say something, "take a shower and a nap afterwards."

"I see." Jasmine licked her lips. "Don't you usually have them shower before the massage? You know, being all sweaty and such?"

"If they wish," Ren stepped out of the massage room and brushed past her on the way to the door, "Whatever your needs, we can satisfy them!"

Those last words started a familiar warm, wet feeling between her legs. "Do you suppose," she hesitated, took a breath, "Do you suppose I could have a massage now? I -- "

He interrupted, "No, no! No need to give a reason Ms Jasmine!" he closed the door and turned to her, "If I have the time on my schedule, I'm always glad to be of service and today," he extended a hand to the massage room, "I am entirely at your service! Do you," he remembered what she had just said, "wish to shower first? I will wait in the massage room, just knock on the door when you are ready."

"I think I will." She began to unbutton her blouse, "And don't be silly, sit in here, I don't want you all cooped up waiting for me!" She shrugged off her blouse and stepped into the bedroom. Without closing the door.

He watched as she undressed, her heavy breasts tumbling out of her D-cups when she opened the back hooks, her huge hips bouncing as she unzipped the side of her skirt and let it fall. She had gone natural a few years ago, so when dropped her panties and bent down to pick them up he saw she sported a full bush of the same dark brown color as the hair on her head. She saw the cheerful expression on his face changed not the slightest. After years of distasteful looks from men at the sight of her nude, this lifted her spirits far more than any compliment he might have paid her body. He said nothing except to tell her there was a hamper for soiled clothes in the bedroom: guests stayed long enough that the clinic provided a laundry service. This mundane detail made her feel even more at home.

She felt so comfortable, she left the door to the bath open, as she had with her bedroom. From where he waited, Ren would have a clear view of her getting into the tub. That tub was spacious enough to easily accommodate two women of Jasmine's size, but however much she would have loved to luxuriate in it, hot water soothing her aching legs and back, she felt she might never be able to climb out, might doze off and embarrass Ren by having him have to pull her out. So, she decided to shower after all.

She was about to step in when she noticed the tub door in the side that sealed. If she preferred, she could just walk in, rather than climbing over, no awkward lifting up her foot and swinging over, no need to try to find a secure hand-hold or railing to steady herself.

She decided not to use it. She didn't need it, and wanted to *prove* she didn't need it, however out of shape she might be. Mostly, though, knowing Ren would be looking, and would get a much more intimate view of her if she bent over, steadied herself, then lifted one leg -- slowly and carefully -- over the lip of the tub, then got her footing and turned a little -- slowly, again -- and lifted the other leg.

As she stood up straight, she wondered if the brief view of her labia opening as her muscles strained, revealing the deep intimate pink between them, wondered if that would provoke an erection from Ren. Not wanting to embarrass him, however, she closed the glass partition so the shower wouldn't spurt out of the tub.

The glass, she noticed then, wasn't painted or frosted, but was clear as crystal. Odd. Perhaps a safety measure, so someone could see if the bather had slipped and fallen? Another odd thing was the chair provided. That the bath would be equipped with a movable but sturdy chair was not unusual. It, along with the tub door and the multiple hand-holds lining the tiled wall, would be very useful for anyone having difficulty walking or standing. What was odd was the center of the chair's seat had a large circular portion that appeared to be removable.

Whatever the purpose of *that,* Jasmine wasn't going to need it. She found soap, an old-fashioned bar of neutral hypoallergenic soap, and shampoo and let the warm water soothe muscles that were tired and sore but still adequate for keeping her on her feet. Standing while she bathed would also let her give Ren, who still waited patiently, an excellent view of her lathering up her breasts and rinsing them off, then turning and running her hands over her ample buttocks (and maybe pulling them apart a bit, bending over and washing between them), then turning back to soap up her pudenda, stroking her fingers through the abundant fur of her pubic bush.

The hand-holds *were* helpful for climbing out. It was an effort, and she was moving slowly now, but smiling at the thought of Ren watching her breasts swinging slowly and heavily as she manoeuvred her equally heavy body.

Whether he noticed she was having difficulties or was merely being solicitous, he was there instantly with a very large towel which he wrapped around her. It covered her quite modestly, but even through the thick terrycloth, even though he touched her nowhere more intimate than the back or shoulder or forearm, his hands felt so *good* on her body.

"Perhaps you would like to rest a little while?" He nodded toward the bedroom, "I can come back if you would prefer a massage later."

"A quick rubdown would be just lovely right now," she said. Yes, his hands did feel good as he helped her to dry off and make her way to the massage table.

He draped a fresh towel over her before he started, but that just seemed silly, as there wasn't a square centimeter of her bare skin he hadn't got a very good look at already. Still... now he was going to *touch* that bare skin! Although, she reflected as he began to work, there was a good deal of her skin he had seen by now that he probably wasn't going to touch.

He started with her feet, ankles and calves, which she thought was odd, though she supposed he started there because heavy women put a lot of stress on those parts. The massage table was so wide, she could conveniently spread her legs. Even with her thick thighs, she reflected, she was opened up far enough that he might just be able to see her juicy pink... if only that towel weren't draped over her backside.

As he drizzled a little more massage oil on her legs, she flinched, then, as he began to knead her left thigh with both hands, she twitched again and the towel fell to the floor.