The Urologist Cougar Ch 03

She stood then, looking amazingly sexy in her professional top but naked from the waist down.

Her thighs were shiny with her natural lubricant and I liked that she seemed to be a little shaky on her feet.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. It was a good kiss, a long, lingering kiss full of desire. I let my hand run down her back, the feeling of the material, of her bra, of the hem of her suit jacket, and then the lightly dimpled warmth of her skin, tracing her

gluteal cleft

, the crack of her ass, enjoying the warmth and softness of her.

"You know," she said, breaking the kiss but holding me in place with her fingers entwined in my hair, "that pretty mouth of yours really isn't enough."

She ran her hands down my back until they got to the tight waistband of the pullups and she started pushing them down.

I caught her hands and said, "Laura, that would be awfully messy."

Her smile, when she looked up at me, was bright, and she giggled a little.

"After last night," she said, her hand pushing down on the waistband, "do you really think a little mess is going to bother me?"

I grinned, dug my fingers into her hair, holding her head immobile, holding her eyes with mine.

"You're a bit crazy, you know that, don't you?" I asked.

There was that happy smile again. "You, my dear," she said, "are not the first person to tell me that."

"But maybe I'll be the last?" I asked, surprised at hearing the words from my mouth.

She smiled as the pullups hit the floor with an audible

plop

.

"Maybe you will be at that," she said, her hands cupping my ass, finding where it was messy and deliberately smearing it.

Something within me surrendered at her touch and I dropped to my knees. I could smell the mess on her hands as she entwined her fingers in my hair again and pulled me to her. She was smiling down at me when I looked up and then she reached down and spread her nether lips, leaving a brown smear where her fingers touched.

I didn't hesitate. I buried my face between those plump lips, her nectar salty and oily and delicious.

Her fingers twisted, not actually hurting, but pulling and holding. Her hips were thrusting and her hands pulling. I knew, on some level, that she was using me like a sex toy and on that same level, deep down, that level where nothing matters but spreading my DNA, I liked it.

When she came it felt like I was being waterboarded. I couldn't breathe but she held me to her, fingers twisting as I coughed and retched and suddenly tasted the bitter taste of urine.

I coughed again, spraying piss and cum all over her belly, feeling the warm stream of her urine on my face and chest. This time when I retched my body gave up and I threw up, gagging and puking as her hands in my hair pulled me away enough to allow me to breathe.

"Good sex is often messy," she said, and the smile on her face was almost angelic, "but never dirty."

When I got my breathing under control I stood, not bothering to even wipe my mouth, and kissed her.

"You ARE crazy," I said.

"And yet you love me," she said.

And it hit me that she was right. This was more than sex. I wasn't sure if I'd call it "love," but it was definitely something.

"Come on," she said, taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom. I don't know that she deliberately stepped in the mess on the floor, but she didn't try to avoid it either and left wet footprints.

In the bedroom, she turned and smiled up at me.

"Oh, crap," I said, "we're going to ruin your suit."

She laughed at that, an oddly merry sound, out of place but somehow, right.

"It'll clean or it won't but I have a couple of dozen just like it," she said.

When I reached for the button to take it off of her she slapped my hand.

"No, baby," she said and there was that feral grin that I would come to love and, on some level, fear, "my tits aren't going to be involved this morning."

"Oh?" I said, not at my wittiest.

"This morning I want one of those prostate exams," she said, moving to the bedside table and pulling out that tube of lubricant and roll of tape.

"Ummmmmmm," I said, gathering my wits about me as the saying goes, "you have no prostate."

There was that feral grin now, fully on display.

"Prove it," she said, giggling and moving up onto the bed, doubling a pillow, and laying across it, the pillow under her hips and her ass up on display.

And suddenly I was hard again.

"You ARE crazy," I said for the third time that morning.

She didn't say anything, just wiggled her ass.

So I did as she wanted.

I remembered. The drugs were powerful but didn't interfere with my memory of how she had done it. So I pulled off a length of the tape, spread her cheeks, stuck the tape deep in that crease, and pulled that cheek out of the way, sticking the tape to her hip. When I did the other side she was completely exposed and I just stopped to look.

Laura is sexy as hell, don't get me wrong, but she doesn't have an attractive asshole. I've seen some women in my life who do, but she ain't one. She was darkly stained far enough down that it showed even before the tape. Hemorrhoids peeked out. I bent and kissed it.

She hummed a soft "mmmmmm" sound.

I squeezed some of the lubricant out of the tube onto my finger and started working it into that tight little hole.

She hissed a lingering "yessssssssssssssss."

And I found that I enjoyed what I was doing.

I probed a second finger in and she raised her hips, obviously seeking more.

"Crazy," I said softly, slipping a third finger in.

"I ammmmmm," she whispered, and I felt powerful sphincter muscles squeeze.

When I hesitated she said, softly, her voice muffled by the pillow, "Don't you stop."

She grunted a little as the fourth finger slipped in, my fingertips together forming a cone, until my thumb rested on her tailbone.

In a moment of sanity in what was becoming a truly insane morning, I asked, "are you okay?"

She did a partial pushup, lifting her head clear of the pillow and looking over her shoulder at me.

"I'm good," she said, flashing that damn Grin again, "but a girl needs a good stretchin' from time to time."

I pulled my fingers out, watching, fascinated, as her asshole slowly closed, and loaded them with the lubricant. She was loose now as I worked the clear ointment around the entrance to her rectal vault, and she was sighing that soft hum as I did it.

This time I didn't hesitate. I folded my thumb along with those extended fingers and pushed.

The only sound was a soft grunt as the widest part of my knuckles opened her and then she squeezed on my wrist as I entered her completely.

And I liked it. I started exploring her rectal vault with my fingertips, amazed at the hardness, at the strength I found there. When she pushed against my hand I knew, just KNEW, that this would be a regular part of our lovemaking. Deep inside of her, I felt that final portal and probed with my fingers, all the way into her bowels.

And I liked it.

I liked it all. I liked the feeling of her surrounding me, the soft warmth of her shit as her body continued working in spite, or maybe because, of what I was doing.

And suddenly she came again. Her sphincter squeezed hard and my hand was engulfed in that warm softness.

I pulled my hand out far enough that the widest part was stretching her.

She cried out a sharp, "yessssss" and I could feel another orgasm take her.

Her pussy was running now, her love nectar, that sweet ambrosia of a woman in need, thick and white as it hung in a string, puddling on the pillow under her hips.

I twisted my hand, rolling it where it was widest, drawing a soft grunt from her, sort of an "auugghh" sound, much like you'd imagine Charlie Brown making as Lucy pulled the football away again.

I straightened my fingers, changing the shape of the way I had her stretched from more or less a circle into a slot.

I felt my own feral grin as I pushed my other hand in, my palms flat against each other. The muscle relaxer in her lubricant ointment was obviously working. There was pressure but not much, as I used my fingertips as a fulcrum and then started spreading my palms apart, opening her wider than I would have thought possible.

"Oh JESUS," she cried, a quiet, hoarse sound, as she came again, that thick white nectar flowing more thickly, more rapidly, the puddle on the pillow spreading and flowing over the edge.

I held her like that, stretched wide open, while the orgasm passed.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She was gasping for breath.

"Never," (gasp), "better," (gasp).

"More?" I asked.

"Please," she said, and for the first time, I felt a bit of power in this relationship.

"You're sure?" I asked.

"Yes, baby," she said, "tear me up."

So I did. I pushed my hands deeper and laced my fingers together and started moving my elbows apart. I would not have thought it possible for a woman's asshole to stretch that far. I could see all the way inside of her.

"Oh God," she moaned, "enough, baby," and as she said it she came on final time that morning. This time it was beyond anything I had ever seen. It was like she was pissing that thick white cream. And it went on. I held her stretched like that, her pussy blowing white sticky cream in great gouts, and then where I held her so wide, she started to overflow. Not as if she was taking a shit, but just her body's natural peristalsis hurried by what was happening.

Finally, she collapsed, gasping, crying a little I thought.

I held her stretched like that, as she leaked and as her breathing got under control.

I was so goddam hard it hurt.

When she sighed, a soft sigh, and relaxed, I pulled my hands out.

The way she slowly closed was captivating, so I put my erection in there and felt her slowly close around it. The shit smeared so liberally gave it an odd semi-lubrication.

But I was too ready, the drugs from last night still active. I came, quickly, making her giggle.

"We are definitely going to have to work on that, Quick Draw," she said, giggling.

I softened and slipped out and then moved to lay beside her.

"You're beautiful," I said, my shit-smeared fingers brushing her cheeks, leaving a brown line.

I kissed her cheek.

She smiled then, a true smile, pure joy on her face.

"Is it possible," she asked, "that you're crazy too?"

I laughed, kissed her, and said, "anything's possible."