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(A previous story—–Dr. Chloe Burrell, Sex Researcher—–included a brief description of a fantasy devised by the protagonist. Those few paragraphs held within them the seeds for an entire story featuring a different woman, but one equally as eager to learn what it feels like to don a strapon dildo and push it deep into a willing man. Her inventive solution to make that discovery is told below.)
Was Dr. Sherrie Mathison really going to go through with this? The woman Sherrie had contacted was to arrive in only a few minutes. The ad in the city’s alternative newspaper that was weekly deposited into those ubiquitous metal enclosures in front of convenience stores and at downtown intersections was how Sherrie had found “Miss Victoria.” Her ad was titled, “Sensuous Domme.”
It was the only way Sherrie could think of to learn how to fuck a man in the ass with a strapon before she left in two weeks on a research sabbatical to a remote part of New Zealand. A tribe there, the subject of Sherrie’s research for the last two years, engaged in a ceremonial practice that was shocking in the extreme for several reasons.
It was also powerfully erotic for just as many, if not more, reasons. The first time Sherrie had witnessed it, she found herself incredibly turned on. The pungency of the New Zealand flora at that time of the year had masked the aroma of her own arousal—–a good thing given the gush from her pussy as she watched this unique ceremony through the eyes of a supposed “objective scientific observer.”
Without the odor of the flowering plants hanging heavy in the air, anyone within five yards of Sherrie would have known she was lubricating and sexually excited. She had never been so ramped up from watching an erotic act in her entire life!
The women—–wearing strapon phalluses—–took the men of the tribe one by one on a symbolic sacrificial altar where the act of screwing them in the ass until intense female orgasm was triggered was deemed a cleansing ritual that purified the men’s souls, allowing them to be proficient hunters as well as proficient lovers. The men approached the altar, reverently presenting their naked genitals for inspection by the women, who would handle their cocks and balls to the point of erection, with glistening pre-cum on the head of their dicks the indication that they were ready for the gods to bless them with the purification their women would provide in the form of a thick phallus stroked repeatedly into their assholes until the act brought the women to resounding orgasms.
The lithe, finely muscled native men spread their legs as they leaned over the altar, cock and balls clearly visible and in an evident state of arousal. They were told to reach back and spread themselves open, demonstrating their willingness to submit themselves to the women and the ceremony. One of the teen-aged and virginal girls of the tribe then uncorked a large urn of lubricant and tipped it at the top of the male’s ass crack, careful to direct the gooey liquid between his cheeks so that it would roll into the valley created as he held himself open in supplication.. She would step back from the male’s ceremonial exposure, and the woman who was about to take the young hunter would press a finger through the lubricant and into the man’s asshole, stroking in and out as the women witnessing the ritual chanted in unison to the thrusts of her finger: “Gods of plenty, bless our tribe with successful hunting and many babies! See our promise made to live in peace and harmony, woman with man, and man with woman!”
Withdrawing her thoroughly coated finger as evidence that she had adequately prepared the dark tunnel inside the hunter’s ass, the woman would approach the bent-over male, grasping her strapon at the base and running its smooth surface around and over his glistening asshole, crack, and balls to smear the slippery substance all over her fake cock. She would then point the phallus directly at his asshole, nudge it into place, and drape herself over his back while grabbing onto his hips, all in strict accordance with the ceremonial protocols for the ritual. Then, the globes of her beautiful ass would shimmy with each thrust as she fucked him with utter abandon (as required by the gods) until he cried out in delirium and she had a quaking orgasm.
The ceremony would conclude as she withdrew her strapon from her tribe’s hunter, the side of the altar dripping with the cum he ejaculated as she screwed him in the ass.
The wide-eyed, virginal teen who had performed her duty with the urn of lubricant always watched attentively, learning from the woman wearing the strapon, and knowing that she would someday take her turn at the altar behind the muscular flanks of one of the tribe’s men.
Sherrie’s contract deadline with the prestigious University Press at Collingswood was fast approaching, but the book would not be complete without a description of this aspect of the aboriginals’ ceremonial practice meant to ensure balçova escort bayan good hunting and fertility. She had finished all but the two chapters devoted to the tribe’s religion. Having lived with the tribe for six months the previous year, she had gathered the necessary data and experienced all facets of life with the tribe in order to write authoritatively about every aspect of the their society except its religion. Though she had witnessed the regular ceremonies in which the women donned strapon phalluses to penetrate—–to fuck–—the men as a ritual offering to their gods, Sherrie knew she had to participate in the ceremony. The women would not speak freely about it with her until she did.
Living half of last year among the aboriginals plus several months the prior year meant she had been accepted by the women to the degree that they had told her they expected her to participate in their ceremony. Knowing the extreme importance of a passable female performance during the act (displaying ignorance in how to give a man a good strapon ass-fucking would instantly brand Sherrie as a failure as a woman and would short-circuit any future discussions about the religious ceremony), Sherrie had deflected the women’s demands that she demonstrate her proficiency in strapon man-fucking. Never having even thought of such a thing, much less done it, she knew she would be terrible at it. Sherrie begged off by saying she was an excellent man-fucker using her own phallus, which was different from theirs and which she had left at her home.
The explanation was the only thing Sherrie could think to tell the women to mollify them. It meant, though, that she would have to make good on her excuse when she returned to the tribe. Only THEN would they share the history of their gods and the evolution of their religious practices from the woman’s perspective.
The doorbell to Sherrie’s townhome rang.
Rushing to the mirror to check her make-up (ridiculous, she knew, because the “sub” would be blindfolded), she satisfied herself as to her presentability: Brown hair brushed and in place hanging to her shoulders (long hair was requisite for the tribe’s women), her tanned face presentable and not overly made up, and the simple short-sleeved blouse and slacks broadcasting a put-together impression that neither accentuated nor hid her trim figure. (Good grief! Why am I worried about this? In a few minutes I’ll be out of my panties, poised behind some guy I’ve never met, and pushing a dildo strapped to my crotch into his asshole!)
She walked to the door.
A tall woman stood there. At her side was a man holding a leather bag that looked something like a gym bag. He was wearing a button-down dress shirt, khaki slacks, and a pair of slip-on shoes. And the blindfold.
Sherrie would soon discover that was all he was wearing. Miss Victoria would tell her that she preferred her toys to refrain from wearing any undergarments.
Domination was definitely NOT anything Sherrie was into. She was not into BDSM or any form of demeaning or humiliating activity. But what was she going to do as a way to find men to “practice on”? Put out an ad for guys who wanted to be ass-fucked to come to her townhome? Finding a domme whom she could pay to bring around her “toys” for the purpose seemed like the only option, especially since she had put off for so long doing this and she now had only two weeks to develop some expertise in the fine art of man-fucking. Still, Sherrie culled through the numerous ads carefully, selecting the only one that included the phrase, “No pain, no BDSM—–just your pleasure at the hands of a woman who knows how to penetrate your soul.”
The implication was clear, though the wording kept “Miss Victoria” well within the strictures of the newspaper’s advertising guidelines.
One upside to Sherrie’s unorthodox solution in the name of academic research was that a woman experienced in this sort of thing would be there to coach her. That was extremely important–—her life with the tribe told her clearly how much the women, and the men, for that matter, expected an outsider to demonstrate competence to earn acceptance into any facet of the tribe’s life. Sherrie had done that in a wide range of activities: weaving skirts, cooking in an open pit, fishing with a line and bone hook, even learning to present an acceptable improvised song of personal accomplishment on more than one occasion when tribe members gathered at night for the evening’s entertainment.
But Sherrie knew she could not fuck a man in the asshole with anything approaching the practiced ability demonstrated by the tribe’s women. She also knew that NOT being able to do this to at least a minimally acceptable degree when witnessed by the women would shut down forever her opportunity to talk with them about this unique religious practice.
Learning was encouraged, expected, and supported among children and teenagers for everything the balçova escort tribe did. Even the virginal 15-year-olds who served as “keepers of the urn” (of lubricant) were cut plenty of slack the first time they participated in the ceremony.
They got better with practice. A performance good enough, as judged by the women, was the thing that earned a teenaged girl the rite of passage to womanhood and the anointing by the eldest woman in the tribe as ready to be taken as a wife.
But an adult woman who could not demonstrate competence as a strapon man-fucker? Such a woman would be humiliated. It would be a long time–—if ever–—until one of the tribe’s men would even approach that kind of woman as a potential mate. Though Sherrie did not care if she were deemed good marriage material by the tribe’s men, the ridicule she would receive from all members of the tribe had to be avoided at all costs. It would immediately eliminate any chance of talking further with the women about their religion.
“This is Andrew,” Miss Victoria said, taking the man’s hand and pulling him inside behind her. “As you can see, I have blindfolded him per our agreement. He does not know where we are, he will never learn who you are, and he understands clearly what will happen here tonight.”
Thank god it was dark outside, Sherrie thought. Neighbors seeing a blindfolded man led from a car to her doorstep would have created complications. (She was thankful for Miss Victoria’s thoughtful suggestion to leave the porch light off.)
Miss Victoria was a statuesque brunette with dyed-black hair (or was it a wig?) and a dazzingly attractive face. She removed her coat to reveal a corset topped with an underwired shelf bra. Noting Sherrie’s look of surprise, she said, “I thought it best to wear my working attire. I am most comfortable this way in the presence of Andrew and the other men who pay me to take my pleasure with their genitals and their assholes.” She smiled. “They occasionally perform well enough to be allowed to roll down the cups of this delightfully inventive bra and suck my nipples.”
Sherrie was already moist with anticipation about the evening’s activities (and scared to death that she WAS excited by all this), but what the woman just said made her own nipples even more taut and aroused.
God—–was it going to be like this all night long?
Sherrie was about to speak, but Miss Victoria reminded her by pressing one finger against Sherrie’s lips. “Andrew understands he does not possess the right to hear your lovely voice, except for any sounds of satisfaction you wish to make as you take him.”
Sherrie had forgotten. Part of the arrangement was that the man would receive no clues as to who Sherrie was. My god! The fall-out from that if he came to the university, making a pest of himself, threatening to say what Sherrie had done. The unavoidable risk of employing Miss Victoria was all the hazardous activity that could be tolerated in this bizarre solution in the name of academic research
Sherrie was not to speak during this session as one means of ensuring that one of the two people now in her living room would never know who she was.
As to Miss Victoria’s discretion and any chances that she might potentially cause embarrassment for Sherrie, well, Miss Victoria was being nicely compensated for this. That certainly meant that she would not risk dissatisfying a client who could approach the local constabulary with made-up charges about the domme. It would not matter if the things a domme’s client would tell the police were true or not; cops liked to assume the worst about sex-industry workers.
Sherrie knew she would never claim her payment to Miss Victoria as a deduction on her 1040 in the “personal expenditure for academic research purposes” category. Somehow, though, she wasn’t too upset about missing the tax savings.
Feeling relatively safe that this “training session” would never be disclosed to anyone given the protections she had put in place, Sherrie had proceeded with her plan. Her agonized rationalizing finally convinced her this was probably the only way she would ever learn to do what she must with a strapon dildo before she returned to the tribe’s women to talk about their religious ceremony.
“You may put down the bag,” Miss Victoria said to the man. “Stay as you are while I talk with the woman who is going to fuck your pretty asshole tonight,” she continued in a non-chalant manner as she stepped to pick up the bag.
What, in the name of academic advancement, have I gotten myself into? wondered Sherrie. A sense of panic started to build within her.
Miss Victoria sensed this. Placing one of her finely manicured hands gently on Sherrie’s arm, she said, “Please relax. I have chosen Andrew because I think he is exactly the kind of male you need for your initiation into the wonderful pleasures of penetrating a man. It’s always good to have practiced on a man before escort balçova you do find your soul mate—–and I can guarantee you that after tonight no man will be a soul mate for you unless he occasionally gets on all fours as Andrew will do and offers up his naked ass for your pleasure and his.”
Miss Victoria opened the bag.
It contained two leather harnesses, a bottle of lube, two thick towels, and two “feeldoe” dildos, one purple, one black. Their unique design, Miss Victoria had told her on the phone, was created by a woman with female pleasure in mind.
Sherrie’s throat went dry.
She had read about this. She had finally given herself permission only last week to find and view a video of a woman using this kind of dildo to fuck a handsome man in his asshole.
She had also allowed herself to masturbate to orgasm each time she viewed the video in the days since.
The feeldoe was the perfect cover for the story she had made up about not participating in the tribal ceremony during her last stay with the tribe. Modern technology would back up her excuse about wanting her own phallus to fuck one of the native men in the ass–—the feeldoe was very different from the intricately fashioned strapon dildos the women used which were made of polished wood. In a process that started with careful carving before sanding the phallus smooth using a cloth into which crushed shells were poured, the women labored intensely as they made their personal man-fucking instruments. Each creation was finished by decorating it with colors and symbols meaningful to the woman and her family and then sealing it with multiple coats of a resin that left it completely smooth yet somehow a bit slippery.
These aboriginal dildos, though, were carved to fit snug against the woman’s crotch and held in place with a kind of harness made of wild pig leather. It was clear to Sherrie that the snug fit would provide delightful sensations as the cupped base of the dildo pressed against the wearer’s clitoris. But the dildos did not include any extensions that went inside the wearer’s vagina.
Sherrie reached out tentatively and touched the feeldoe dildo as Miss Victoria held the bag open.
“I will supervise your fitting while Andrew disrobes,” said the woman, drawing the handles of the bag back together and tilting her head toward a door leading away from the living room and opposite the kitchen. “Your bedroom?”
Sherrie nodded silently.
Miss Victoria smiled. “Very good.” She walked toward the door, looking back to notice Sherrie staring worriedly at Andrew as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t be concerned. He will remain where he stands after he strips. And he knows better than to remove his blindfold.”
Once in her bedroom, Sherrie shut the door and said in a soft voice, “Please forgive me. This is just so foreign to me, so . . . so–-“
The woman set the bag on Sherrie’s bed and interrupted. “I have introduced numerous women to this activity,” she said. “You would be surprised how common it is for ladies to covet this kind of sexual experience. The internet has certainly had an effect on bringing it to the attention of a much wider audience.”
Sherrie remained motionless, afraid of what she was about to do, but turned on beyond all measure that she was going to do it.
Miss Victoria continued. “The number of men eager to experience this continues to rise, also due, no doubt, to the internet.” She smiled. “No matter his introduction to the idea, though, once a man has surrendered his most private opening to soft caresses and gentle penetrations, and experienced the lovely sensations created by deft manipulation of his prostate, he quickly becomes an advocate of the act.” She opened the bag and picked up the purple feeldoe.
“You can keep your blouse and bra on if you wish. You will, of course, have to be nude from the waist down in order to wear the strapon. Be comfortable,” Miss Victoria said, circling the bed, dildo in hand, and glancing at the titles of the books stacked on the nightstand. “My only suggestion is that once you discover how good this end of the dildo”—–and she flicked one finger against the bulbous end of the strangely shaped purple implement—–“feels inside your pussy as you fuck him, you may wish that your breasts were free in order to grab your nipples and tug on them or pinch them as a way to increase your arousal.” She turned back to the bag and drew out the towels, the harnesses, the second dildo, and the lube, depositing each on the bed and laying the purple feeldoe next to them.
The tribe’s women ARE naked except for the phallus they wear during the ceremony, Sherrie thought. She once again rationalized an academic reason for doing something she desperately wanted to do but was afraid to give herself permission for in the absence of a “forced” acceptance that her research required it.
Swallowing hard, she began removing her clothes. She felt ridiculous standing nude from the waist down, and having provided her subconscious with a reason to disrobe completely, she quickly began unbuttoning her blouse.
It will be fantastic to play with my nipples as I fuck him—–this was the message that bubbled up to a point just barely below Sherrie’s conscious awareness.
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