Heather’s Sore Bottom

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Female Domination

During my junior year of college, I shared a house off campus. Over the summer there were just two of us, myself and a graduate student named Heather. She was tall, blonde, and attractive. We got along well and shared meals sometimes, but we never really hung out together. She was several years older than me, she had her work and her friends, and I always assumed that she was too sophisticated to want to spend much time with an undergraduate.

One day Heather asked if I could take her to her doctor’s appointment. She had a soreness that made it uncomfortable for her to sit down. Nothing serious, she was sure, but the doctor had told her it would be best to have someone accompany her. I was more than happy to do it.

She had been in with the doctor for about half an hour when the nurse called me into the examination room. Heather was lying on her stomach on the table. The doctor was a stunning, raven-haired Indian woman who didn’t seem that much older than Heather.

“You are Heather’s roommate?”

“Well, her housemate.”

“Heather has a minor inflammation. It’s nothing serious and it’s not contagious. I’m going to prescribe a corticosteroid cream that should clear it up in within a week or so. But she will need help applying the cream. Is that something you’d be able to help her with?”

“Sure,” I said. “Of course. Whatever I can do.” Heather had her head turned toward us, and I could see she was quite embarrassed. There was a sheet covering her from the waist down. She was wearing her blouse, but I noticed that her jeans were neatly folded on the chair beside the examination table.

“Heather,” asked the doctor, “I’m going to show your roommate how to apply the cream. Is that all right?”

“I guess so,” she said sheepishly.

The doctor lifted back the sheet. Heather was lying there bottomless. No pants and no panties. Her bare butt was on full display, round and pink and pretty. There was nothing she could do about it except blush.

“Heather has an inflammation of the rectum,” said the doctor, matter-of-factly. She had me put on a latex glove and squirted some of the cream onto my finger. She held one of Heather’s butt cheeks out of the way to better reveal the crevice. “Do you see the darker, puckered skin right around the anus? You should spread the cream there first.”

I couldn’t believe it. There was Heather’s asshole, pouting up at me like a little mouth, and the doctor wanted me to touch it with my finger. I’m sure my ears were just as red as Heather’s. This seemed like a huge invasion of her privacy. But, the doctor implied that it was necessary. So I very gently dabbed the darkish, puckered ring of skin with my gloved finger.

“Now you’ll need to spread some cream into the anus itself. The cream will act as a lubricant and should allow your finger to enter smoothly. Heather, you just try to relax.” I didn’t dare look at Heather’s face.

The doctor squirted some more cream, and I put my finger right at the very pink center of her asshole. Her sphincter was closed tight and didn’t want to let me in. The cream made my finger a little slippery, and it kept slipping away from the target. I went back to massaging a tiny circle right around the opening. Finally I was able to get the tip of my finger in.

“That’s right,” said the doctor. “A little deeper now.”

I pushed my finger in deeper. The inside of her ass was soft and warm. It clamped down on my finger like an octopus squeezing it’s prey. I pushed until my finger was in up to the second knuckle. The doctor told me to twist it around and move it in and out to give a good, consistent coating.

“Very good,” said the doctor. “You will need to do this once in the morning and once in the evening for the next two weeks.”

I went back out to the waiting room while Heather got dressed. When she came out, she was still so embarrassed she could barely look at me.

“Just shoot me,” she said when we were in the elevator.

I could only imagine how she must have felt, lying there with her bottom exposed, having to let her undergraduate housemate poke around in it. I didn’t know what to say.

“It was pretty embarrassing for me too. I hope it didn’t hurt.”

“No, it didn’t hurt. Listen, Hector, I truly didn’t know that the doctor would ask you to do that. I think she thought you were my boyfriend.”

“It’s all right. I’m just glad I was able to help.”

“I don’t think I could be any more embarrassed.”

“I’m sorry it’s such a private spot. Would you feel better if you asked one of your other friends to do it?”

“God. What do I ask them? ‘Can you come over and stick your finger up my butt?'”

“Look,” I said. “It probably makes the most sense for me to do it, anyway, since we live together. I really don’t mind doing it. As long as it’s OK with you. I know it’s awkward, but it’s doctor’s orders. I guess it’s one of those things that housemates have to do for each other sometimes. It could just as well be you having to stick your finger up almanbahis my butt.”

She gave me a forced smile.

That evening, I checked in to see how she was doing. I wanted to remind her about the cream. The truth is, I was dying to have another look at her bottom and another chance to touch it. But I didn’t want to appear too eager, so I didn’t say anything.

A while later, she knocked on my door. “I guess it’s time for my treatment,” she said, unenthusiastically.

I waited for her to get ready and then knocked on her door. I had only been in her room a couple of times before. She was laying face down on the bed with the sheet pulled up to her waist, like in the doctor’s office. The box of gloves and the cream were on the bed. I came in and sat down beside her. I put on a glove, then lifted the sheet.

Her butt was just as pretty and rosy as I remembered. But unlike that afternoon, the sensuality of seeing her naked bottom was no longer tempered by the clinical surroundings. We were in her bedroom, in a softer light, without a chaperone. She had pulled her pants and her panties down to mid thigh. Her bottom was smooth and soft. I could see the slit of her vagina between her legs. All this set my cock to humming.

I put cream on my finger and began to rub it around her anus. I could see the pleats where the skin tucked down inside. I put on more cream and tried to probe the hole itself. It was tighter than it had been that afternoon. In fact, it was hard to tell that there was any opening at all. I didn’t want to push too hard for fear of hurting her.

“Is everything OK?” she asked.

“It’s really tight. I can’t get my finger in. Can you relax some more?”

“I’m trying.”

I rested my hand on her buttocks. I wondered if rubbing her there would help her relax, but I was afraid it would only make her more nervous. I began to feel really awkward, less like a therapist and more like a voyeur. I didn’t know what to do.

I realized that all this time I’d been staring at her rear end. I looked up at her face, a bit guiltily. She was looking back at me with a look that was equal parts embarrassment, begrudging acceptance, and frustration. I had to do something.

I made a show of limbering up my wrists and my fingers. “Not to vorry,” I said. “Ve vill not take this sitting down. Ve vill soon get to the bottom of this. Ve vill turn the other cheek. Now vatch closely and I vill pull a rabbit out of your ass.”

It kind of broke the tension. Even though we were alone in her bedroom and she was half exposed, there was no need to take things too seriously.

“No more vise cracks,” she deadpanned. I gave a snort of laughter.

I tried again, and was able to worm my finger in.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. It just makes me feel like I have to go to the bathroom.”

I proceeded to twist my finger and move it in and out like the doctor had said. Her asshole spasmed, and it felt like she was giving my finger a deep tissue massage. It was a strange, intimate, erotic sensation to be within sniffing distance of her most private parts and to have my finger actually inside her, caught up in the warm, insistent embrace of her inner machinery. It was only with reluctance that I finally pulled out.

“Well, there you go,” I said, pulling the sheet back up over her.

She smiled in relief.

“I guess we’ve got to do it again tomorrow morning.” I usually left before she did, and we rarely saw each other in the morning.

“Just wake me up if I’m not up when you’re ready to go, OK?”

Back in my room, my feelings continued to roil. I’d known Heather for a year now. We were part of the same household—almost family, in a way. I certainly would have done whatever I could to help her, whatever it was she needed. But I couldn’t help feeling that I was taking advantage of her, that my solicitude was just an excuse for feeling her up. The doctor had thought I was Heather’s boyfriend. Would she have trusted me to do the treatments if she had known I was just a housemate?

But Heather really did need somebody to help her. And there was at least some kind of supportive relationship between the two of us. If we really had been family, it would have been OK for me to treat her. So perhaps it wasn’t so bad for me to do it as a housemate. As long as I was professional about it. As long as I tried to conscientiously follow the doctor’s instructions. As long as I always made sure to keep Heather’s best interests at the forefront.

And what about my hard on? What about the thrill I got from seeing Heather’s rosy butt crack? What about the arousal I felt when her asshole squeezed down on my finger? Those pleasures seemed to be the unavoidable byproducts of the therapist / patient relationship. There wasn’t really anything I could do about them. Perhaps it was OK to feel those feelings. As long as I didn’t seek them out for their own sake. As long as I kept them to myself. As long as I was clear in my own mind that they carried almanbahis yeni giriş no connotation of desire on Heather’s part, nor any claim on her affection.

When I poked my head in the next morning, Heather was still in bed. “Oh, Hector,” she said sleepily. “Just a sec.” She turned onto her tummy and fiddled a moment under the comforter.

The comforter was cool to the touch, but when I pulled it back Heather was warm and cozy underneath. She was wearing a tee shirt and panties, the panties now pulled down just off her butt. The setting was even more intimate than the night before—the musky, tousled sheets, Heather in her night clothes still half asleep, her luscious bottom uncovered. It was incredibly arousing, and it put my newly vowed professionalism to the test.

I gloved and salved up my finger. Heather’s face was still soft with sleep, her eyes lightly closed. She twitched a little when I touched her. “It’s cold!” I tried to think how I could warm up my hand with the glove still on. “It’s OK,” she murmured. “Just go ahead.”

Her asshole was languorously slack. My finger slid in without resistance, and I had the sense that I could have gotten my whole hand in there. But I stuck to my business. When I was done I gingerly tugged up her panties and re-covered her with the comforter.

She made an effort to open her eyes. “Thanks, Hector. Have a nice day.”

We both got better at it as the week went along. I made a point to run my hands under hot water before going to her room. She became more relaxed. My finger would slip in more and more easily. It got to the point that we could have completed the whole treatment in just a minute or two.

But there was no need to rush. The sessions established a leisurely pace of their own, and we both came to find a cozy little pleasure in them. I liked the intimacy. I liked the tingle I always got in my finger and in my cock. I liked being with Heather. She seemed to enjoy being with me. Sometimes it even seemed that she rather enjoyed my touching her. Sometimes we would chat on for a while after we were done. This also gave a bit of a thrill, because we were both aware that she was still bottomless under the sheet and that I was sitting right beside her on the bed.

One time Heather was waiting in the kitchen when I got home. She had somewhere to go that evening and was glad that I’d come home before she left. I washed my hands and followed her to her room, lingering in the hallway to give her a chance to get ready.

“Just come in,” she said, not bothering to close the door. She took off her shoes and unzipped her shorts. She had her back to me, and slid the shorts down her long, lovely legs. She was wearing lacy panties, nicer than the plain ones she usually wore. She lay down on the bed and pulled the panties down to mid thigh right in front of me. That’s how used to each other we were getting.

My finger entered her easily. Her rectum felt particularly warm and moist.

“Uh oh,” I said.

“What’s the matter?”

“I forgot to put on a glove.” It was my bare finger that the smooth muscles of her anus were caressing.

“Oh,” she cried.

“Don’t worry. My hands are clean. I just washed them.”

“It’s your finger that I’m worried about.”

The fact that I was feeling skin instead of latex was extremely arousing. I so wanted to stay and chat, but when I pulled my finger out Heather wriggled her panties back up and got up from the bed. This time she was facing me. I could just make out the dusky slit of her vagina through the lace as she pulled her shorts up. She looked at me, and I was pretty sure she could tell where I’d been looking. And that I had an erection.

“I’ve really got to run, Hector,” she said, sympathetically. “Thanks so much.”

As much as I tried to be a professional, the sessions were making me very horny. I had to constantly control myself not to touch Heather anywhere other than where I was supposed to. And I confess that I jacked off after a couple of the sessions, although I made a point not to fantasize about her when I did it. Then one day I realized that the sessions were making her horny too.

It was Saturday morning. I was in the kitchen when she walked through from her shower. She was wrapped in a towel, and she was in a friendly, vivacious mood. We chatted and laughed, and then she asked if I could give her her treatment.

“Just come in,” she said leaving her door open. She put her coffee cup down on the desk, then lay down on the bed and unfastened the towel. I couldn’t believe it. She was lying there completely nude. She crossed her arms on the bed and rested the side of her head on them as if she was awaiting a massage. She smiled at me innocently. And really, when I thought about it, she wasn’t revealing that much more than she usually did—just her back and the bottom parts of her legs, parts I could have seen on the beach anyway.

But the total effect was electrifying. Instead of almanbahis giriş just exposing her affected body part, she was completely naked. I could see the broad expanse of her back, the way the swells of her bottom arose from her slender waist and curved to meet the happy creases of her thighs, the way her legs extended down for mile after beautiful mile. Her skin was pink from her shower and still giving off the faintest wisps of steam. There is no way she could not have been aware of the effect she was having on me. There is no way she could not have done it on purpose.

I sat down on the bed beside her. Her naked body was too enticing not to touch. I began to give her a little back rub, up to the base of her neck, massaging her shoulders and the tops of her arms. Then fuller strokes, both hands symmetrically placed, starting well below her waistline, gliding up the small of her back, spreading out on either side of her spine.

“That feels nice,” she cooed, closing her eyes.

I massaged her butt too, kneading each cheek in turn, allowing the side of my hand to go deep into her crack so that I could grasp each buttock in its entirety. Her legs were spread a little open and I could clearly see her vagina. Her pubic hair was light and trim. I came very close to running my hands down between her legs. Perhaps that’s what she wanted. But I had my responsibility to her. I forced myself to focus on the treatment.

This time I forgot the glove on purpose. I squirted a thick line of cream on my finger and applied it slowly around her anus. Heather still had her eyes closed, and when I put my finger up to her, she rocked her asshole gently back against it. She continued rocking and wiggling when I was inside her, so that it was impossible to tell who was massaging whom. I savored the playful pressure, and kept my finger inside her for a lot longer that I needed to. When I finally eased it out, her eyes were still closed, and she was snoring softly. I covered her with the comforter.

I didn’t see her again until that evening. We shared a can of soup. I had found her flirtation that morning very arousing—she had fallen asleep naked with my finger inside her. All this touching was definitely making her as horny as it was making me. I wanted to let her know that I’d been turned on, but at the same time I didn’t want her to think I was taking advantage of her.

“You kind of fell asleep on me this morning,” I said.

She returned my gaze with a blush and a sweet smile. “Yeah. Thanks for covering me up.”

“The two weeks are almost over. I think I’m going to miss our treatment sessions when they’re done.”

“I think I will too,” she said. “To tell you the truth, I kind of like them. I don’t know, my . . . anus . . . is quite sensitive.” She was blushing again. “It feels nice when you touch it. It feels nice when you put your finger inside it. At first the feelings were almost overpowering. But now I just give in to them. I kind of get lost in them.”

She was embarrassed to be telling me this, and that excited me tremendously.

“To tell you the truth, I kind of like giving the treatments,” I said.

“Do you?”

“You have a very lovely bottom. I love looking at it. I love having the chance to touch it and feel it. And, I don’t know, my finger just likes being in soft, tight places.” I could feel my own face flush.

“It’s hard to describe how your finger feels to me. It’s very sensual. Sometimes I try to squeeze down on it.” We were both blushing now.

“I can feel it when you do,” I said.

“Sometimes I get a little aroused,” she continued, her eyes lowered.

“I always get aroused,” I confessed.

“Just from seeing my butt?”

“From seeing it. From touching it. And actually, I can see a lot more than just your butt.”

She reddened even further, from her forehead down to her throat. “I was never sure how much you could see.”

“I try not to pay attention.”

“I still feel so embarrassed every time. Thanks for being such a good friend.”

“I’m just glad I can help.”

“Hector,” she asked, shyly, “have you ever had anal sex?” It was not a proposition, just a question. She wanted to know more about the topic.

“Um, I haven’t had that much sex of any kind, really. But no, not anal sex.”

“Neither have I. I used to think it sounded disgusting. But now I kind of wonder. I mean, I kind of like all those swirling sensations. I get kind of turned on. Your finger seems so big when it’s in me. I wonder what something even bigger would feel like.”

I could think of one simple way to find out. “I could try two fingers.”

“I never thought of that.” She was trying to downplay her excitement. “That would be pretty kinky. “

“We could give it a try.”

“We do have to do a treatment . . .”

She was embarrassed about her eagerness as we headed to her room. She undid her belt and pulled off her jeans, not making any effort to turn from me. She pulled her sweater off over her head, which made her blouse ride up, momentarily exposing her stomach. She put her hands to the waistband of her panties to take them off too, but then thought better of it. She lay down on the bed first and then pulled them down like she usually did.

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