Michael Jaeggers - Honeymoon hotel

Finally the finger was in all the way up to the knuckle and his palm was pressing tightly against the cheeks of her buttocks as he began to make tiny circular motions inside with his finger – almost as if he wanted to expand the opening. A moment later, the first finger withdrew. She wanted to pass wind, but held back – much too embarrassed. When the finger returned, it seemed much thicker. Then she realized he was using two fingers. "That hurts," she whimpered slightly, knowing it was a lie but feeling she had to protest anyway.

"Be calm, my love. It can't hurt very much… you'll be fine in a second."

Actually, she thought, it really wasn't painful… but she knew she was being stretched there. She supposed that his two fingers, however, were less in diameter than her evacuations; she remembered as a child having wondered how something so large could come from such a tiny opening.

The two fingers were sawing in concert now. She wiggled her buttocks in the air and she felt her muscles, deep in her belly, milk at the finger. This brought delighted laughter from her husband.

"Wait," he said, "until I get in there… then do it all you want." He took a deep breath, "I knew you were a natural."

Sue's thoughts were jumbled. She knew instinctively that this wasn't right. Yet, at the same time, it was mysteriously exciting. She felt subjugated, completely at the mercy of her husband. She blushed deeply when the pressures became so intense that she farted loudly. The sound was rewarded by a laugh and a hard bite on her right buttocks. His two fingers made circular motions in her rectum; it was being stretched… stretched… stretched. Now she began to feel a compelling urge to have his fingers in there deeper. She pushed back against them, groaning slightly once as she felt his fingernail hang up against a fold of membrane, and tossed her head abandonedly from side to side in rhythm with his finger fucking motions in her rectum.

Then suddenly he withdrew his fingers. She could feel the rubbery elasticlike ring of her asshole clinging to them – reluctant to let them go. And then, out they came with a wet hissing noise like that of a deflating balloon.

She turned her head, disappointed, to find out why he had stopped. He was stroking his penis, and she could see the thick white foreskin moving back and forth over the instrument's head. Then he was between her legs. His hands reached beneath her and cupped her thighs – holding them tightly. She felt him move forward until his penis was pressing against the puckered brown aperture. She suddenly realized that his prick was considerably larger than just two fingers; she wouldn't be able to take it. He should be able to see that! Still, the pressure continued, the prick moving gently, always gently, gradually insinuating its way through the tiny tight opening stretching it wider and wider until finally the head of it was completely in. She was pleasantly surprised, even proud of herself; it hadn't hurt very much at all.

"Try to shit or fart," her husband said.

"Dick!" It was a shock to hear him use language like that.

"Try… it'll go in easier."

Sue pressed down with her abdominal muscles and was relieved to discover that part of the pressure had been removed. It was fine… just fine.

She felt him begin to move in deeper, and all of a sudden – at about the two inch mark – he began to hurt her, terribly. She tried to push forward into the pillow, but his hands held her thighs captive.

"That hurts," she winced, meaning it this time. "It's hurting horribly!"

He paid no attention to her… just continued his inexorable pressure inward.

Now there was genuine pain in the pit of her stomach. Not vaginal pain, but pain from her protesting bowels as the fleshy reaming rod moved deeper and deeper against the normal flow of traffic in the rectum. "It's too big," she whimpered. "Please stop! Oh God, darling, please stop!"

Escape was impossible. She was impaled there like a captured blonde butterfly. He was using her body like a wheelbarrow, his hands holding her thighs, his legs keeping her legs well separated.

"Raise up," he ordered.

It was so painful that she would gladly obey any order, just to relieve the pain. She raised her buttocks a bit, and the prick slid smoothly and deeper into her rectum. It moved quickly until suddenly she felt his pubic hair slap hard against her ass.

"Gaaaggh," she groaned. God, how it hurts! It was simply impossible to think. The pain was even more intense because now she was feeling degraded, abused. The excitement she had felt with his fingers in there had gone – being ripped away by the reality and overpowering presence of that hot, pulsating log lodged in her rectum.

He began moving in and out like a well-oiled piston. Her asshole made gasping, sucking noises with each movement. "Oh… hhh," she gasped with each new thrust inward.

He stopped for a moment, and Sue realized he was panting in delight. He asked, "Do you remember what you did a moment ago with your belly muscles? I want you to do it again."

"I don't… know… what you… mean," she gasped through pain contorted lips, not really remembering.

"Imagine you are standing with your legs spread wide apart. Imagine you have a string attached to your navel; at the end of that string is an apple. Without moving your feet, lift the string. Lift your navel and pull the apple off the ground."

Sue concentrated for a moment, then inhaled deeply and at the same time tightened and lifted her stomach muscles.

"Ahhhh… God!" he shouted, his voice gurgling with glee. "Again. Ahhhhh… Oh, God! Again… and again! Keep doing it, baby."

Each time she lifted the imaginary apple, she was rewarded with a joyous shout and a deeper thrust into her clenching anal passage. He sawed in and out of her asshole – rhythmically – plunging deep into those softer, darker areas of her being which she had never known existed.

Sue had begun to feel a change in her rectum, and this was accomplished by a change in her attitude. She wanted to please her husband. She still felt degraded and helpless, but the mere hopelessness of her position made it all acceptable. She was beginning to experience some masochistic enjoyment from those thrusts, and she knew instinctively that she could enjoy them even more by rearing back to meet his thrusts. She began doing so, and was pleased by his low pitched moan of responding pleasure.

She moved her firm white buttocks in tiny little circles – weaving it in the air like a balloon on the end of its tether. She pulled up imaginary apples by the dozens; she pressed down as though she hadn't shit in a year. His yelps of contagious enjoyment encouraged her. Gradually, she began feeling a weird glow illuminating her inner bowels. It wasn't possible, she thought. Not this way… not this way! Can woman reach a climax this way too? Nerve ends were beginning to telegraph messages, and muscles were beginning to vibrate like steel rails precursing the train.

After a moment's experimentation, she discovered her rectal passage could be tightened two or three times at the apogee of each outward stroke – bringing greater pleasure to her and deeper groans of happiness from him. With the perigee of his inward thrust, she flexed her deepest anal muscle against the head of his cock. "God!" was all he said. She suddenly realized, as she tossed her head wantonly from side to side that she was enjoying this cruel debasement. She also realized, with a rapid catch of breath, that she could cum like this if she worked at it… concentrated on it.

Now, breathing stentoriously, her husband pulled the hot throbbing cock all the way out to the glans, then shoved it desperately in as a prelude to the final act and curtain.

"Ahhhh," she moaned, and there was no longer any pain in her voice, only encouragement and lust.